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Gloria Horton-Young's avatar

The Supreme Court. Oh, Lord, where do we start? What’s your impressions about their little code of ethics. Here’s mine:

In a frenzied hallucination of justice, where the gavel hits like a sledgehammer on the thin ice of moral fortitude, the Supreme Court, that last bastion of unimpeachable virtue, has decided to play dress-up. With the robes already stained in the ink of financial indiscretions, they've now stitched together a nonbinding code of ethics, as if moral rectitude was a Halloween costume that could be worn once and discarded. Ah, the spectacle! Justices Alito and Thomas, those twin pillars of pecuniary perplexity, stand as beacons of this newfound farce, wading through the swamp of scandal with the kind of grace one would expect from an elephant on a tightrope. This code of ethics, looser than the screws in a cheap bourbon bottle, is the Supreme's way of saying, "Trust us," while their pockets jingle with the melody of undisclosed riches. It's a pageantry of accountability, as substantial as a whisper in a hurricane, and yet we're all invited to the masquerade, to pretend that the robes are still white, and the scales aren’t tipped by the weight of gold.

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Rebel Rice's avatar

How do we get the media to call Donald Trump OLD

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