By Mr. Curmudgeon
When Sen. Patrick Leahy (D-Vt), chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee, asked President Obama’s Supreme Court nominee Elena Kagan her views on the Constitution, she declined to answer, saying it would be inappropriate to discuss how she might rule in future cases. She was being disingenuous. She just didn’t want to show her cards.
And I wouldn’t expect any better questions from the usual group of tongue-tied Beltway Republican Senate committee members either. So let me make a few of simple suggestions to the befuddled GOPers on the committee. Ask these simple questions: “First, do you believe the Constitution is a ‘living document?’ Second, do you believe words as defined, say, in Webster’s Dictionary have specific meanings, or are they alive and kicking as well?”
We all know, of course, that Obama would not have nominated Kagan if she were, as they say, a “strict constructionist” or believed in “original intent.” That’s soooo 18th Century.
Since the days of Franklin Roosevelt, nominees to the Supreme Court (including some by Republican presidents) have breathed new life – Doctor Frankenstein-like – into the Constitution.
The beautiful thing about a living Constitution is that it conveniently does away with the messy and time-consuming amendment process. Why bother submitting an abortion amendment to the fifty state legislatures for ratification when you can simply declare, “Hey, this living Constitution spontaneously grew another cherished right…and right before my eyes. We can kill the unborn! Where, you ask, did Thomas Jefferson write that exactly? Why, by the penumbras…next to the emanations, of course.”
That’s why the dictionary question is such a good follow-up.
Senator Curmudgeon to Elena Kagan:
Ms. Kagan, you are seated at an upscale Washington restaurant and order the filet mignon, medium rare, and a glass of their finest Cabernet Sauvignon.
Twenty minutes later, the waiter brings you a hot dog and a warm bottle of Bud. “This isn’t what I ordered,” you insist. “Yes it is,” the waiter shoots back indignantly, “we pride ourselves in having the best living menu in the city, ma’am.”
“Hey, pal,” you say, “filet mignon is the small end of the tenderloin, carved from the ribcage of a bovine beast. And warm Bud is not superior Bordeaux!”
“It is today, ma’am,” maintains the waiter. “Chef Maurice…at least I think that’s what he’s calling himself today…believes the menu must change with the times. Enjoy your filet mignon.”
Here’s my last question, Ms. Kagan: do you ask for your money back or do you accept Chef Maurice’s redefinition of the hot dog and a warm bottle of domestic brew?
Her answer will show whether America is getting judicial filet mignon or just another deconstructionist, black-robed, liberal weenie.
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