Supreme Court Nominee

I've been quite busy this week. There's been an opening on the Supreme Court. You might have read about it.

Anyway, seems a bunch of crazy liberals have got their panties in a wad over who the President might appoint. The thing is, they don't need to get all stupid about it. I guess they can't help it.

You see, I don't think our President, no matter how much I do like the guy ... who can hate a fellow that loves the Lord, that has strong convictions, that loves his family, that loves his country, that causes Osama bin Laden to piss his pants ...

Like I was saying, despite how much I like the guy, I don't think he's going to appoint the type of judge we need on the Supreme Court.

I don't know this guy's name. Some say it was Judge Roy Bean, but it wasn't. Some say it was Judge Isaac Parker, but it wasn't. The best sources I can find indicate it was a U.S. District Judge in Taos, New Mexico Territory in 1881 that handed this down from the bench:

Jose Manuel Miguel Xavier Gonzales, in a few short weeks it will be spring. The snows of winter will flee away, the ice will vanish, and the air will become soft and balmy. In short, Jose Manuel Miguel Xavier Gonzales, the annual miracle of the years will awaken and come to pass, but you won't be there.

The rivulet will run its soaring course to the sea, the timid desert flowers will put forth their tender shoots, the glorious valleys of this imperial domain will blossom as the rose. Still, you won't be here to see.

From every tree top some wild woods songster will carol his mating song, butterflies will sport in the sunshine, the busy bee will hum happy as it pursues its accustomed vocation, the gentle breeze will tease the tassels of the wild grasses, and all nature, Jose Manuel Miguel Xavier Gonzales, will be glad, but you. You won't be here to enjoy it because I command the Sheriff or some other officer of the country to lead you out to some remote spot, swing you by the neck from a knotting bough of some sturdy oak, and let you hang until you are dead.

And then, Jose Manuel Miguel Xavier Gonzales, I further command that such officer or officers retire quickly from your dangling corpse, that vultures may descend from the heavens upon your filthy body until nothing shall remain but bare, bleached bones of a cold-blooded, copper-colored, blood-thirsty, throat-cutting, chili-eating, sheep-herding, murdering son-of-a-bitch. * * * * * * �

That's MY kind of judge.

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