A Scalia Poem

Hobson’s Choice between a Mare’s Nest
and a Roundmouth

    ~~ A Scalia Dissent Poem in honor of the Marriage Equality Decision, Love v. Beashar

All hollow as my dissent may prove
before this arsy-varsy ballum rancum
calling itself a court so full of bam and apothecary
in defense of taylors, flaybottomists, and all these knights of the rainbow–
I must dampen the horn colic of mollies and their hoydon friends. 

Shabbaroon perhaps, but making of marriage
other than a true swive between a tickle tail and Miss Laycock
is to take a running smobble at the foundation of all known society.
When the Fourteenth Amendment was ratified in 1868,
every State limited marriage to one man and one woman,
and no one doubted the constitutionality of doing so.

For we are a wide land of isolate and self-contained American families,
the source of all our legitimate passing of taxable property,
soul-rending suburban alienation, and socially destructive disfunction.
By this ruling we take that seat of all our highest values,
values we place far above those of mere and mire of the civitas,
and render it queer as Dick’s hatband.

Even a cup-shot cove and a covey all agog to dock
and playing at his gigambobs has more reason
than the riot of havy cavy gamon and patter
produced by this Kit Cat Club formed by my associates.
The world does not expect logic and precision in poetry
or inspirational pop philosophy; it demands them in the law.
The stuff contained in today’s opinion has to diminish
this Court’s reputation for clear thinking and sober analysis.

With a full quaf of Irish assurance The Court has fetched mettle
and decided for the Nation that a man might wrap
himself in something other than a lawful blanket
and call it marriage. These rantipoles can go quiffing rantum scantum,
while their rammish morts might mow all the money
and tuzzy-nuzzy they can find, but you’ve windmills in the head
if you think this doesn’t all come to rumpus and disorder.

This Ominum Gatherum will be Job’s comfort to our good families
as the galimanfrey of a ruling comports with the people’s will
but is followed quick by one that wiffles away  their understanding,
leaving them not only at the mercy of quidnung social engineering,
but at the mercy of a scapegrace collection of screw jaws
who think their packthread so rum they might take a Trickum Legis
and by it erase good and all the sovereignty of the several states.
The opinion is couched in a style that is as pretentious
as its content is egotistic.

The Law should rather assure all the righteous
men singing black psalms, be they nazy flogging cullies,
either lobcocked or docked smack smooth,
but they are still men assured place by fear of force and tradition.

Who ever thought that intimacy and spirituality
(whatever that means) were freedoms? And if intimacy is,
one would think Freedom of Intimacy is abridged
rather than expanded by marriage. Ask the nearest hippie.
Expression, sure enough, is a freedom,
but anyone  in a long-lasting marriage 
will attest that  that happy state constricts,
rather than expands,
what one can prudently say.

But this lot of sauce boxes think consistency of practice
more fair than the voice of a local vote! Today’s decree says
my Ruler, and the Ruler of 320 million Americans coast-to-coast,
is a majority of the nine lawyers on the Supreme Court.
Tantony pig, I’m sure I bear the bell, rounded by prime and prinking
silent flutes and tu quoques. I can only cry in the dark my davy
in prayer that one day, before the reign of Queen Dick,
the people will find a way to replace this feckless and defiant court.

* Liberal borrowing from  The 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, Fwd. Max Harris, London, Bibliophile Books, 1984.

* Passages hi-jacked from Scalia’s dissent in Love v. Beashar are sourced from Mother Jones.

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