This summer the goat fucking child molester will return to his New Hampshire abode to spend the remaining years of his existence churning butter and hemming trousers on his front porch step. He'll also be sporting a shotgun just in case another pesky property rights activist tries to steal his precious log cabin or mug him during a morning jog.
The bad news for us is - over the next several months we will be forced to endure the national charade that is selecting, vetting and confirming the next Supreme Court Justice. Get ready for the theatrics - Senators waxing philosophical about the primal importance of an up-or-down vote, interrogating character witnesses about what curse words the candidate used on the playground during middle school, and flaunting homemade pie charts to explain strict constructionism.
Personally, I'd like to see perennial Guys From Area 51 presidential candidate Gus Hall nominated to the Court, but I'd settle for Gary Busey or Ward Churchill. Mainly, I want someone who is going to aggravate ScaThomAlito. Perhaps, a strong woman would be the best prescription for the court. Or one of those circus seals that can bounce a ball on its nose.