Mister Roberts
When
the Supreme Court disemboweled the 1965 Voting Rights Act last week, it seemed
pretty clear that the Justices had swapped out their black robes for white. You
know, the ones with the hoods. But then, not 24 hours later, they struck down
the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA)—the most significant pro Gay Rights decision
in a generation. The same courthouse steps that played host to angry civil
rights veterans on Tuesday, gave way to ecstatic gay marriage supporters on
Wednesday.
Confused?
This
isn’t the first outbreak of SCOTUS Schizophrenia in Washington DC recently. Back
on January 21, 2010 in Citizens United, the Supreme Court decided (to their
everlasting shame) that when it comes to elections—money is speech and
corporations are people. Not 24 months later they turned around and put their Good
Housekeeping Seal of Approval on the Affordable Care Act---a.k.a. Obamacare.
I
don’t know about you but these folks have my head spinning. We’ve got one
Justice demeaning the right of blacks to vote as the “perpetuation of racial
entitlement,” while another blasts domestic partnerships as “skim milk
marriages.”
Just
when we’re ready to storm the barricades, they throw us a nice big bone. What
are we to make of this Roberts Court—with a single swing vote bouncing back and
forth between the moderate left and the radical right like some supercharged
tennis ball?
Who
is Mr. Justice Roberts? Well, he has three sisters and no brothers. So clearly
he learned to play well in the sandbox at an early age. He was a pretty good
high school wrestler—which is no doubt where he mastered the art of using the
other fella’s weight against him.
He
was first nominated to the DC Circuit Court of Appeals in 1992 by Bush The
Elder but the Senate refused to confirm him. Bush The Younger tried in 2001 and
again the Senate stuffed him. W submitted Roberts’ name in 2003 and the third time was a charm---but I’m guessing congress is probably not his favorite
branch of government.
Two
years later, when Sandra Day O’Connor retired, Bush 43 called Roberts up to the
Majors. No sooner had he been nominated to fill O’Connor’s seat on the Big
Bench when Chief Justice Rehnquist died. Suddenly Roberts—who had clerked for
Rehnquist way back in 1980--found himself being fitted for that robe with the
gold sleeve bars---the one belonging to the Chief Justice.
To
sit on the bench, Roberts took an $800,000 a year pay cut—so he really must
love being a judge. But none of this explains the crazy unpredictability of the
Court over which he presides. Oh, there’s one more thing I forgot to mention. He
also owns a small piece of a cottage in County Limerick, Ireland. Maybe that’s
a clue--the Irish connection. After all, leprechauns love mischief.
I
just can’t figure out—from one day to the next—whether Justice John Roberts is the creature on the
Lucky Charms box, or Leprechaun 2. Stay tuned.
