-Caveat Lector-
It really sounds like Renquist is going insane. Or, maybe he was
insane and now he is going sane. It's hard sometimes to know the
difference
Howard Davis
[EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote:
>
> Has anyone else wondered of late whether Chief Justice Renquist is
> competent to serve? I fear he may be suffering from some underlying
> organic condition, perhaps an incipient brain tumor. The first clue
> was when he showed up for what is, arguably, the most important single
> function of his career -- presiding over the impeachment of the
> President of the United States of America -- wearing four gold bars
> on the shoulders of his black robe: not traditional, but rather, an
> idea inspired by a Gilbert & Sullivan operetta. Is this an appropriate
> occasion for whimsical frippery?
>
> The second clue, which went oddly unpublicized by the major news
> media and could only be seen by those who watched the full, live
> proceedings on C-SPAN, was when he arrived at his station on the
> floor of the U.S. Senate, stood up, and said in a nasally, old-woman's
> voice (evidently an impression of Bette Davis), "Fasten your seatbelts
> gentlemen -- it's going to be a bumpy ride!" The gallery erupted into
> laughter, and I suppose it was amusing, but then, is this really the
> venue for vaudeville?
>
> But if this was not sufficient evidence that the Chief Justice had
> lost all sense of proportion, the proceedings would soon dispel all
> doubt. First of all, he made a point of standing up every 30 minutes,
> ostensibly to stretch his bad back, but I believe to draw attention
> to himself. Each time he did so -- apparently, for C-SPAN soon
> began muting his microphone for television -- he would repeat his
> earlier quip in that same, eerie old woman's voice: "Fasten your
> seatbelts gentlemen, it's going to be a bumpy ride!" At first
> there was scattered tittering, but soon the line became tired even
> to those for whom it had originally been the greatest source of
> amusement. Several Senators became noticeably agitated whenever
> the Chief Justice showed signs of stirring, the whole event turning
> into an ordeal of terror for them.
>
> Toward the end of the day, evidently overcome with ennui, Justice
> Renquist saw fit to remove a pocket comb and, holding up the first
> inch or so of its teeth beneath his nose, he turned, first this
> way and then that, giving the Nazi salute to the assembly. It was
> without doubt the most remarkable spectacle I have ever seen, and
> the sheer mortification and panic it engendered among all present,
> from the politicians to the C-SPAN remote camera operator, gave
> that august body of elder statesmen all the appearance of the
> pandemonium at a carnival freak show.
>
> I suppose that this was all perfectly predictable. I should mention
> that Biff Spiceland (yes, his real name), the CNN weatherman, is an
> old and dear friend of mine. He sent me an email letter three or four
> months back, excitedly remarking that he had just seen the Chief
> Justice of the Supreme Court, William H. Renquist, eating a sandwich
> in the restaurant of a local Washington hotel. I have never been
> much for celebrity gossip and paid little attention, though there
> was one troubling detail which disturbed me briefly.
>
> Spiceland went over to Renquist's table to introduce himself and to
> meet the Chief Justice. Renquist, he related, was busily engaged in
> some sort of complicated transposition of his sandwich ingredients on
> his plate, and evidently not satisfied with his attempts, for he kept
> shaking his head and rearranging them again. He introduced himself,
> to which Renquist gave cursory and noncommital acknowledgment without
> looking up and continued his strange behavior. Overcome by
> curiosity, Biff asked him what he was doing. "I'm segregating.
> This sandwich is against the laws of man and God, and the
> Constitution does not authorize the contrary meddlings of federal
> bureaucrats." Spiceland was speechless. Suddenly Renquist looked
> up, as if noticing him for the first time. "By gad sir, who are you
> and what do you want?" Spiceland quickly excused himself and left
> the restaurant, embarrassed and a little frightened. I told him
> that he should sell his story to the Washington Post, but he
> declined, saying that he feared for his job. He was probably right.
>
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