Story Time

"John Jacob Johnson, III was born on a farm in rural Alabama to Mitsy McCallister Johnson and John Jacob Johnson, Jr. He played football for Southern Redneck High School, and went to the University of Alabama on an athletics scholarship. Alas, he suffered a tragic, career ending, ankle sprain in his junior year.

"Forced to face the heartbreaking reality of working for a living, he switched his major from Athletics to Business. He threw himself into the books, trying desperately to earn himself a way off the farm in little Hickrape, Alabama. He got a part-time job, as an 'errand boy' for a local law firm. Undaunted by the proposition of blowing old conservative fruits for $3 a trick, he graduated Cum Laude and immediately applied to Law School. His impressive ability to suck a golf ball through a three foot section of garden hose impressed the registrars, and earned him one of the few coveted spots.

"It was there he met his wife Milley, whom he would marry and later kill- getting away with it because of his connections and experience as a trial judge. So thoroughly did he plan and perpetrate the murder, that he wasn't even a suspect. He used the 'grief' of the 'tragedy' as a springboard into a federal judiciary seat. Still willing to slurp down as many hot loads as it would take, 'Big Gay Jay'- as he was called behind his back- quickly climbed the federal ladder.

"None were surprised when the latest President gave Judge Johnson the nod for the Ultimate Bench. His confirmation hearings went through without a hitch- after all, Big Gay Jay personally knew the taste and proclivity of many a sitting Senator. So it was that three months ago, Judge Johnson, chin unusually dry, became Supreme Court Justice Johnson."

"Thank You for the history lesson, you plastic surgery enhanced sack of vacuousness, laugh vacantly while I glare at you in contempt."

Ah hahahahahah

"Good. We go now, to Justice Johnson's first news conference, a rarity for seated Supreme Court Justices."

"Yes, thank you all for coming- but, then, the huge erection erasing power of a name with a title as earth shatteringly huge as mine is hard to resist, isn't it? As you know, I'm Justice John Jacob Johnson, III; and I am the most junior member of the Supreme Court of the United States of America. I've called you all here today to lay out some basic facts, you sniveling retards. Pay attention, or I will use every ounce of my not-insignificant power to utterly fuck this Union, harder than any man since the current President's predecessor!

"You smug motherfuckers keep tossing around some drivel so often, I've found myself using it, and that is un-fucking-acceptable. The particular term I'm here to address is 'Activist Judges'. Since more than half of you are unable to find your assholes with both hands if you're given an eight finger head-start; I'm going to explain this to you again, in language a half retarded spider monkey could understand. Take notes.

"There are THREE branches to the Federal Government. The Executive, which executes the Laws; the Legislative, which makes the Laws; and the Judicial which ensures that the laws are- you know- legal. There are checks and balances placed between the branches, so that no one of them can become all-powerful and thereby negate either- or both- of the others.

"One of these checks and balances is the ability of the Executive to command the Armed Forces. One check is the requirements upon the Legislative should it seek to change the fundamental documents governing our federal government- like the Constitution of the United States of America. A different check is the Executives ability to appoint the members of the federal Judiciary. Another check is the ability for the Judiciary to deem a law unconstitutional, which would require the constitution be amended before such a law could be considered legal in the United States of America.

"This last, is pretty much what 99% of the time of the Supreme Court of the United States of America is consumed by: the legality of laws, their interpretations, and usage. In other words, activism. That's right, the Supreme Court (of the United States of America) is designed to be the Nine most activist judges in the land. In fact, almost all Federal Judges are, by design, ACTIVIST JUDGES, you brainless bags of syphilitic shit!

"Why? Because we make sure that the Executive- especially in its capacity as a police force- doesn't overstep the bounds, intents, or capabilities outlined in the laws the Legislature passes. That's why we're here. Guilt and Innocence are matters for juries to decide; judges make sure everything is legal.

"Thus endeth the lesson. But I will now answer one further question. A question that many of you have been wondering as you stare at me, red faced, ranting, with foamy spit spraying from my lips: Why are you doing this? I'll tell you why.

"Not only am I offended by how stupid and sheep like you idiot sons of bitches out there in the electorate are; but I am indescribably contemptuous of the manipulative fucks you domitable assholes allow to fill your heads with the rancid cow shit, you fucking douchebags are all too happy to spew at one another. I am a Supreme Court Justice. This post is for Life. That makes me gangsta. Know what a REAL gangsta does when he's given a podium, an audience, and the ability to speak? Rewind this tape.

"Peace, bitches!"

It is many weeks later before the Governor Goat Fucking scandal of Delaware replaces Justice Johnson's exit from the stage on the Mainstream News Networks. He throws the microphone down, and turns to march off, confident in the knowledge that no more dicks shall intrude upon the sanctity of his oral cavity, unless he so wants it. Some terse words are exchanged with a cameraman blocking the way, as the judge tries to exit. The sixty-three year old man, dressed in the robes of his office, throws a beautiful front kick into the waiting nutsack of the cameraman. This causes the man to fall over, grab his bleeding sack, and drop his camera; allowing the judge the room he needs to clear the stage. As the judge walks away, the camera picks up two distinct sounds accompanied by two distinct images. The first, the plaintive moans of the cameraman, his face twisted in ball busted pain. The second, the judge saying, "This is MY house, motherfucker!" and whistling as he walks away, his robes parting just enough for the entire world to get a small glimpse of sixty-three-year-old-ass-cheek.


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The Civics Lesson, for kids! (c) Thomas Hand 5 March 2009