Undercover SCOTUS

How Chief Justice Roberts did his year-end evaluations

2016 was not ending the way Chief Justice Roberts had expected. In the months since Justice Scalia died, the Chief gradually resigned himself to judicial irrelevance. Phoning in dissents. Working as little as possible. But then Donald Trump was elected.

“Jake, what should we do next?” Chief Justice John Roberts asked. Jake was the social media manager the Chief hired when he realized the only way Trump communicated was via Twitter. What if America’s survival depended on the Supreme Court’s ability to engage with an unbalanced president?

“Like, what do you mean?” Jake was busy reading a sports and pop-culture website.

“I was so ready to be in the minority forever,” the Chief said, because he was an elite and therefore assumed Hillary would be elected the next president, and, as such, would control the Supreme Court’s destiny. “And now I don’t even remember what my colleagues look like, let alone how they think about separation of powers,” the Chief said.

Just yesterday the Chief had run into Justice Sotomayor in the elevator bank, and to avoid riding down with her, he lied that he forgot his deodorant in his chambers. In fact, he didn’t even keep deodorant at work anymore. He hadn’t sweat through his shirt since Justice Scalia died in February. What if they made eye contact? What if she brought up the election? He couldn’t bear the thought.

“What about ‘Undercover Boss’?” Jake asked. “My camp friend who I only email when I need a favor is a producer there. I could give him a call?”

“I was thinking more like I should see a therapist or try hot yoga or go back to church?”

“No, this will be perfect.” Jake explained. “On ‘Undercover Boss,’ you can make eye contact with your colleagues, but not vice versa, because you’ll be disguised. You can see what they’re saying when you’re not in the room. See what they act like when they’re being themselves. This is how you move forward. Fuck church.”

Jake was very wise for someone who read sports and pop-culture websites most of the time.

The Chief Justice and an “Undercover Boss” producer knocked on Justice Kagan’s chambers. The Chief had affixed a Ned Flanders moustache onto his face. His hair, typically perfect, was now a Flowbeed mullet.

“Chief Queef,” Justice Kagan teased as she opened her door. She recognized her boss immediately, and often called him this vulgar name to disarm him.

“I’m not the Chief Justice, and don’t call him that. I’m here to interview you about your job. I am a Frontline documentarian.”

Justice Kagan tilted her head like a dog looking at her owner to let her outside to go pee.

“How the hell have you been, boss? I’m on my way out to play bridge with Lindsey Graham, Al Franken, and Rex Tillerson.”

“I would like to interview you about your job as Associate Justice of the Supreme Court.” The Chief pressed on, even though he was pretty sure Justice Kagan knew who he was. “This will only take twenty minutes.”

He ushered the camera crew into Justice Kagan’s chambers. The Chief looked directly into Camera 1. “I am Kyle and I make documentaries for public television. Justice Kagan will walk me through her typical morning.”

“Did you see Justice Sotomayor signed up to bring a Keurig to the holiday party?” Justice Kagan asked the Chief. “You can’t sign up to bring something you already have. That’s like Paul Ryan bragging that his Obamacare replacement is going to cover people without pre-existing conditions. She should’ve brought us some of her mom’s cooking.”

“I think her mom is still in New York?” the Chief accidentally asked.

“I thought you were making a documentary.”

The Chief smirked, because he had been had.

“I was so ready to be in charge after Merrick Garland got here,” Justice Kagan sighed. “I mean, can you imagine? We would’ve ruled that the Voting Rights Act is the most important law of all, that anyone whose vote has been abridged for any reason whatsoever, but especially racism, can vote twice. Felons can vote infinity times.” Justice Kagan winked at the camera.

“What’s going to happen?” The Chief transferred his anxiety about Donald Trump onto someone who absolutely did not vote for him.

“Don’t do this to me. He’s your guy.”

“I know.” The chief removed the Ned Flanders moustache. He tried removing the Flowbeed mullet but it was somehow stitched in so it couldn’t be readily detached.

When the Chief knocked on Justice Alito’s door, he was wearing sweatpants tapered at the ankle and an oversized t-shirt Jake bought from The Life of Pablo tour.

“Justice Alito? I am a millennial here to interview for a job with you.”

“What’s with the camera crew?” Justice Alito asked without looking up from his laptop.

“My generation records everything?”

“That’s true.” Justice Alito said as he scribbled notes onto a Christmas card from Kellyanne Conway. She had included a scratch-off inside, which was gauche and probably illegal. He’d have to check.

“I went to Yale College and then Yale Law,” the Chief began. “I support Calhoun College House not changing its name. We have to draw a line somewhere. A name is a name.”

“You have my attention, son.” Justice Alito put on his glasses. “Oh, Chief Justice. I thought that sounded like you. Why are you wearing five o’clock shadow makeup? And sweatpants?”

“I’m not the Chief Justice. My name is Johnny Manziel.” The Chief broke the fourth wall and made a ‘who knows?’ face directly at the camera.

“I have this dull nagging lower back pain ever since Trump won.” He put ‘won’ in scare quotes. Even though Justice Alito voted for Donald Trump, he never thought it’d actually fucking happen. “I’ve narrowed it down to either diabetes or something really bad.”

“Have you talked to Justice Ginsburg?” the Chief asked, abandoning the charade. “She had back pain after that one term she read all those dissents aloud from the bench.”

“Oh, she hasn’t been in since Trump won,” Justice Alito said. “President Obama set up a germ-free quarantine for her in Bethesda, I read. All she does is drink cashew milk and eat kale and fish oil tablets.”

“Yeah, it’s an odd moment.”

“Like, can we see Manchester by the Sea or not? That’s all I want to know.”

The Chief Justice nodded because he wanted to know the same thing, actually.

“I just want everything back to normal,” they said in unison.

The Chief Justice and a cameraperson, dressed in bright blue and orange tuxedos like Lloyd and Harry from Dumb and Dumber, approached Justice Thomas, who was eating a Chipotle burrito.

“No,” Justice Thomas said to them as he tossed what was left of his burrito into a green recyclable container meant for paper products.

The Chief and the crew reversed course immediately.

“Asshole,” Justice Thomas said to no one, but also to everyone.

The Chief Justice texted Jake, his social media manager, “I don’t know if the producers have much film they can use?”.

“Try it with Justice Kennedy. He is the dumb one, right?” Jake replied.

“Yeah, basically.”

Later that afternoon the Chief sat in Justice Kennedy’s chambers. He wore a wig of long pasty hair, like Tom Cruise in Born on the Fourth of July after he’s left the Marines. He lit a cigarette to help convey that he was in fact a possibly homeless veteran.

“I need a lawyer. I killed a cop.” He gestured his pack of cigarettes to Justice Kennedy, offering him one.

“I only smoke when I drink, but thank you.”

“So can you help a Vietnam vet who is homeless and who killed a cop?”

“I think you’re confused? I am not a law office,” Justice Kennedy explained, as he motioned to the name plate on his desk that read ‘Justice Anthony Kennedy, Swing Justice A.K.A. Most Imp. Justice.’ “And why do you have a camera crew following you? Is this MTV?”

“You’re a lawyer, right? I’m just exercising my right to counsel, which I fought the Viet Cong for.”

“You do have a point. But I think you’d be better served by one of my more pro-defendant colleagues.”

“Before I go, can you tell me what you like or don’t like about working here and how the Chief Justice, your boss, could help make your job easier or better?”

“I mean, my job is basically perfect. Do you know what swing vote means?” Justice Kennedy tapped his name plate. “Now that Trump is president I get to be the swing vote until I die.”

“That’s morbid.” There was something about Justice Kennedy’s sureness of tone that really ticked off the Chief Justice. This was all going terribly. Fucking Jake. The Chief should’ve gone to church.

“Because he will appoint someone to the right of,” Justice Kennedy trailed off as he tried to remember Justice Thomas’s name. “My point is. I will still be the center,” Justice Kennedy continued.

“No, I get it. I get how it works.” The Chief tried to pull off his greasy wig but like the Flowbeed mullet, it was securely stitched in. “I’m the Chief Justice, Justice Kennedy. Jesus Christ.”

Justice Kennedy gasped because the Chief had taken the Lord’s name in vain.

“All those cases I couldn’t convince you to join me, you side with the liberals. And a Born on the Fourth of July costume tricks you? What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck is wrong with our institutions?”

Justice Kennedy fainted due to all the profanity.

Later that afternoon the Chief Justice received an email from the “Undercover Boss” producer. It read:

Believe it or not, but my boss wants to air this episode. Now more than ever, she told me, the American people need to see how dysfunctional their government is. Please review the copy below, which we will roll over the final scenes:

Justice Kagan once a week leads judicial conferences, including nonverbally conveying to Justice Kennedy that he has said enough. She asks Justice Sotomayor to bring her Keurig.

Justice Alito has opted to see Manchester by the Sea. The decision was easy after Justice Ginsburg exhaustedly gave him permission to go see the [expletive deleted] movie.

Justice Thomas befriended the “Undercover Boss” camera crew. They text about how dumb everyone is, including Donald Trump, whom they all voted for, and Justice Kennedy, who was tricked by his boss.

Justice Kennedy continues to enjoy his outsized influence on questions of constitutional law.

The Chief Justice now understands that 2017 will be no better than 2016. Next up: hot yoga until he melts.

Luke Mazur is on Twitter.