When the Highest Court Becomes the Final Punchline [Narrated]
One-Post-Per-Day Rule (Temporarily) Suspended
I try to keep it to one post a day. Rhythm matters. Boundaries matter.
But so does democracy.
When the Supreme Court drops a week’s worth of rulings that feel like constitutional Mad Libs—fewer rights, more smugness—I make exceptions.
This isn’t just the end of a term. It’s a civic alarm bell wrapped in punchlines that burn.
So here’s my second post of the day. Because when the robe-wearing majority starts handing down decisions that read like satire, sometimes the only reasonable response is satire.
When the Highest Court Becomes the Final Punchline
At this point, it’s no longer a Supreme Court. It’s a Supreme Sketch Comedy Writers’ Room—except the jokes are binding precedent.
Fresh off a term that made even The Onion blink twice, the Court capped it off with rulings that read less like legal reasoning and more like Mad Libs for fascists.
Department of Pre-Existing Conditions
After months of procedural gymnastics, the Court ruled that states can deny Medicaid reimbursements to Planned Parenthood—even for cancer screenings and STI tests—so long as it makes some voters feel morally superior.
Apparently, the right to healthcare now includes the right to deny it to others if it offends your sensibilities. Freedom!
New guiding principle: “Any qualified and willing provider” now means “any provider who’s willing to shame you first.”
Parental Control: Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Edition
In a 6–3 decision, the Court gave parents the right to opt their kids out of any educational material that offends their religious beliefs.
This includes—but is not limited to—books with LGBTQ+ characters, units on evolution, yoga during P.E., and possibly the entire state of California.
Schools are now encouraged to develop Individual Indoctrination Plans™ (IIPs), customized to every guardian’s worldview.
Founding Father Fitness Plan™
To honor “original intent,” the Court declined to intervene in South Carolina’s efforts to restrict birthright citizenship—citing “Congressional overreach” and the Founders’ presumed fondness for powdered wigs and border walls.
In response, a new federal wellness initiative has been proposed:
Walk three miles in shoes with 18th-century buckles. Fight off a pox. Write a sonnet about liberty.
Then we’ll talk about your citizenship.
The Eagle Corps: Protecting Our Purity, One Flash Drive at a Time
Porn sites will now require full ID verification, including a government-issued ID, proof of address, and possibly your most embarrassing Google search.
All in the name of protecting the children—by deputizing Texas as the nation’s bedroom monitor.
Critics say it chills free speech.
Supporters insist: If you’re not ashamed of your viewing habits, what are you even doing online?
Patriot Points™: Loyalty Rewards for the New Republic
Under new federal guidelines, every time you repost a meme about judicial restraint—or voluntarily donate a uterus to the state—you earn Patriot Points™.
These can be redeemed for limited rights, expedited passport renewals, or a small voucher toward your next interstate travel permit.
Reach Gold Status, and you can shadow your local militia during community book bannings.
Bring your own kerosene.
Originalist Dentistry (And Other De-Modernized Services)
The Court is reviewing whether dental regulation is unconstitutional—since the Founders never mentioned teeth cleanings, molar care must fall outside federal jurisdiction.
Your next appointment may involve a chisel, whiskey, and a sermon on personal responsibility.
Smile.
Task Force for Moral Clarity™
An executive order—quietly upheld—permits the formation of a bipartisan Task Force for Moral Clarity. Chaired by Robert F. Kennedy Jr. and an AI trained exclusively on Ayn Rand novels and rage tweets.
First recommendation:
Replace the National Endowment for the Arts with a national franchise of Duck Dynasty Dinner Theaters.
Performance art still allowed, as long as it features taxidermy or a tribute to St. Reagan.
The Quiet Line That Got Me
And yet, beneath the absurdity, one line lodged in my chest and wouldn’t leave:
“Universal injunctions likely exceed the equitable authority that Congress has given to federal courts.”
It’s dull. Clinical.
But that’s how erosion works—not with thunderclaps, but with quiet, repetitive wear.
When even temporary, nationwide protections from unconstitutional harm are dismissed as judicial overreach—we’re not debating freedom anymore.
We’re debating the terms of our surrender.
The Justices now take their summer break, having wrapped a term that was—depending on your worldview—a bold defense of constitutional order, or a bureaucratic fever dream in robes.
As for the rest of us?
We check our Patriot Points.
We schedule our originalist root canal.
And we pray our browser history doesn’t end up in the next amicus brief.