Hiding Kavanaugh

THE GREAT REPROBATE, Kavanaugh the lust crazed, will in all likelihood be confirmed by the Senate and placed on the U.S. Supreme Court this weekend, probably and appropriately in the dark of the night, hidden from view, out of the reach of prying cameras, while we the american people concern ourselves with more wholesome less sordid situations such as college football, the baseball playoffs, and some war or other, give or take a few kidnappings and rapes in prime time. The anxiously awaited FBI report evidently contained such shocking information that only one copy was printed up - shocking, the high cost of paper - kept locked behind closed two foot thick steel doors, far beneath ground. Members of the Senate were allowed to read the forty six pages of superficial investing one at a time, escorted by police on duty. Why the secrecy? Does the report contain shockingly revelatory information about Kavanaugh's love life in the hallways and dormitories of academia? Is it excruciatingly boring? Or is this simply the way our republican masters prefer to conduct themselves, below ground, out of sight, like moles? The latter, likely. The smug conservatives in the Senate, frothing at the eminent elevation of one of their degenerate own to the nation's highest court, ensure us that since no corroborating witnesses exist, Kavanaugh could not possibly have tried to rape a girl in high school and again in college, while blind drunk with drink and unbridled lust. As if people who rape other people do so in public, in front of witnesses, with the entire graduating class looking on. Hint to G.O.P.: when raping someone, always make sure that nobody else is around, that nobody can possibly corroborate the event. They should know, these Republicans, they're the experts. Trump, as usual speaking from the dank dumpster of his decayed soul, informs us that since the FBI has investigated Kavanaugh seven times, redundancy has been achieved, proving that the man is free of sin. Unsaid is that if one is subjected to seven sham investigations, which confirm only that one's church attendance has been spotty but marginally acceptable, one will appear to be cleaner than squeaky clean. One hundred truncated investigations, an example being the just completed one, yields no more information, indeed much less, than a single thorough one. Once every generation, it seems, the conservative republicans elevate to the supreme Court a reprobate, and so we are due. Fortunately for proper jurisprudence, Clarence Thomas has literally sat on his duff on the bench for twenty six years without ever speaking a word nor offering anything of value, other than the occasional question or two. If we are fortunate, Brett Kavanaugh will reveal himself to be exactly the same sort of man; one who hides from his past, and from the public eye, from behind the dark blackness of his ill worn judicial robes.