In our current system of lifetime appointments, the Court’s makeup hinges on the health of a few elderly justices. Instead of tying terms to such an arbitrary, morbid factor, why not tie it to something consistent and measurable?
With McTwist limits, justices are only allowed to serve on the Court so long as they can complete the McTwist snowboard trick on any Olympic-quality Halfpipe. Instead of saying, “I bet this nominee might only be alive for another decade,” we’ll start saying, “I bet this nominee will be able to shred a gnarly McTwist for at least another decade! Hell yes!” It’s past time to ensure a stable Court that will stay crunchy for generations to come.
This reform weakens the Court by adding three “Mischief Justices” or “Shadow Justices.” These little troublemakers have several responsibilities, including:
- Giving everyone conflicting dates for proceedings
- Replacing the gavels with rubber gavels (that don’t make noise when struck)
- Giggling inappropriately
- Keeping the other justices up all night with long-winded stories that go nowhere
- Doodling irreverently on drawings by court artists
- Inserting the word “not” in key rulings so as to reverse their meaning
- Leaving mousetraps all over the courtroom floor
- Rubbing their little hands together
- Snickering, chortling
Remove Lifetime Term Limits
By eliminating the lifetime term limit, we could open the door for contributions by dead or undead justices. Necromancers and other agents who can channel dark, unholy magicks could bring back all your favorite historical justices like Earl Warren, Joseph Story, and Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. from behind the thin veil of death. The necromancers would be chosen by a non-partisan group to avoid partisan necromancers who would pack the court with ideologically homogeneous undead flesh.
Chipotle Court (Sponsored)
At Chipotle Mexican Grill, we value your trust above all else. That’s why every dish is made with ingredients you can actually pronounce, and that’s why Chipotle is partnering with the Supreme Court of the United States to bring you a Court you can trust.
Starting Saturday, with every purchase of a bowl, burrito, or salad, you get a chance to nominate the country’s next justice out of a pre-selected pool of top legal minds and Chipotle brand ambassadors. This fall, justice is a dish best served in a salad, burrito, or bowl with brown rice or white rice and optional shredded cheese, sour cream, and salsa.
Originalism, textualism, intentionalism; these theories give weight to intentions and decisions from the past, often at the expense of pressing demands in the present and future. One way to counter this bias towards the past is the Tenet Reform, based on the confusing Christopher Nolan film.
In this proposal, the size of the Court is expanded to eighteen; nine justices traveling forward in time and nine backward. The time-reversed judges can bring texts and precedents from the future to counter the texts and precedents of the past. And they’ll have to talk backwards. And when justices moving forward or backward in time die, they are replaced by justices traveling the same direction through time. Actually, this reform is a total nightmare. Don’t do this one.
The Intentions of the Founders
One day, as the Court adjourns, one of the justices — maybe Justice Breyer — will drop his pen under his desk.
“Hang on, guys,” Breyer will call out to the other justices. “I dropped my pen.” As he goes under his desk, he’ll notice strange engravings. These will be old symbols, lost to time. As he traces a symbol with his finger, an ancient trap door will open under him, and he’ll fall into a secret chamber underneath the Supreme Court with a surprised yelp.
Here, Breyer and the other justices will find a taxidermied eagle with a rolled-up scroll in its mouth. “Could this be The Franklin Scroll?” they’ll ask themselves, already knowing the answer deep in their guts. They’ll unroll the scroll, and someone will say, “It looks like a map of… if I’m not mistaken… Benjamin Franklin’s brain?”
As Court legend has it, if you superimpose Franklin’s brain onto the city of Washington D.C., certain key brain regions line up with the locations of the “key fragments” needed to form the key that unlocks George Washington’s secret ice-grave. Over weeks filled with danger, adventure, and a bit of laughter too, our nine judges find this legend to be true.
At the grave, the justices will find a perfectly preserved Washington frozen in ice. Once thawed, the First President will personally tell them that the Founders, “Never really meant for the Supreme Court to be all ‘fucked up’ and preserve minoritarian preferences for generations against the overwhelming democratic will of the people.”
“Also,” Washington will say just before he jumps back into the ice to return to sleep, “We had always intended for justices to serve only as long as they could still do a, how do you call it now, McTwist. Yes, a McTwist.”
All the justices on the Supreme Court are adults. In “Baby Court” all the justices on the Supreme Court would be babies.