On THE **Federal** Judge — What, is an origin-A-list?

Reflection from November 9th, 2013 @ Age 32

RE:  A lawyer who sees arguments that ain’ nobody never **seen** before, and translates those arguments down into writing so as to PRESERVE, the **spirit** of the Constitution of THE United States of America—a.k.a. an attorney who, also, **comprehends** the meaning behind the word SPIRIT ;oD

9:03pm

I’ll elaborate more soon, but, later; when I don’t have the Alabama game blaring in my ear—but, rest assured, that…

Shit

Wait—hold on…

Ahh yes, rest assured—no, no…

Don’t, rest assured—let’s see…

Hmm…

Okay…

It has occurred to me, that, I need to strengthen my “core”.  You know what I mean?

I mean, if you have a strong “core”, then, it’s easy to branch out to all the other limbs—and, make them very strong, too.  But, without a strong core—it doesn’t matter how very strong any one limb may, or may not, be…

Without a strong “core”, you are nothing.

I need to strengthen my core.  I talked to Clark today, about it, at the gym—so, that was a good start.  And I wrote a really, really good TCOB post, last night—so, that was another good start.  And, I have a rockin speech started for this coming Wednesday’s Ohio House of Representatives H.B. 104 hearing—but, even still

I need to strengthen my core—and, I need to do so, QUICKLY.  Except, I’m not yet, quite—exactly sure, how

So, anyways, just to let you know—that’s what I’ll be working on, over here, for the next several days…

I don’t know why I felt so compelled to sit down and tell you—now, that I’m sitting here wondering so…

But, I did; so, I rest assured—that it is important, somehow.  I’ma get to work…

I’ll figure it out…

I know I can

;0)

THE SCENE is in Hell at the annual dinner of the Tempters’ Training College for young Devils.  The Principal, Dr Slubgob, has just proposed the health of the guests.  Screwtape, who is the guest of honour, rises to reply:

Mr Principal, your Imminence, your Disgraces, my Thorns, Shadies, and Gentledevils:  It is customary on these occasions for the speaker to address himself chiefly to those among you who have just graduated and who will very soon be posted to official Tempterships on Earth.  It is a custom I willingly obey.  I well remember with what trepidation I awaited my own first appointment.  I hope, and believe, that each one of you has the same uneasiness tonight.  Your career is before you.  Hell expects and demands that it should be—as Mine was—one of unbroken success.  If it is not, you know what awaits you.

I have no wish to reduce the wholesome and realistic element of terror, the unremitting anxiety, which must act as the lash and spur to your endeavours.  How often you will envy the humans their faculty of sleep!  Yet at the same time I would wish to put before you a moderately encouraging view of the strategical situation as a whole.

Your dreaded Principal has included in a speech full of points something like an apology for the banquet which he has set before us.  Well, gentledevils, no one blames him.  But it would be vain to deny that the human souls on whose anguish we have been feasting tonight were of pretty poor quality.  Not all the most skilful cookery of our tormentors could make them better than insipid.

Oh to get one’s teeth again into a Farinata, Henry VIII, or even a Hitler!  There was real crackling there; something to crunch; a rage, an egotism, a cruelty only just less robust than our own.  It put up a delicious resistance to being devoured.  It warmed your innards when you’d got it down.

Instead of this, what have we had tonight?  There was a municipal authority with Graft sauce.  But personally I could not detect in him the flavour of a really passionate and brutal avarice such as delighted one in the great tycoons of the last century.  Was he not unmistakably a Little Man—a creature of the petty rake-off pocketed with a petty joke in private and denied with the stalest platitudes in his public utterances—a grubby little nonentity who had drifted into corruption, only just realising that he was corrupt, and chiefly because everyone else did it?  Then there was the lukewarm Casserole of Adulterers.  Could you find in it any trace of a fully inflamed, defiant, rebellious, insatiable lust?  I couldn’t.  They all tasted to me like under-sexed morons who had blundered or trickled into the wrong beds in automatic response to sexy advertisements, or to make themselves feel modern and emancipated, or to reassure themselves about their virility or their ‘normalcy’, or even because they had nothing else to do.  Frankly, to me who have tasted Messalina and Casanova, they were nauseating.  The Trade Unionist garnished with Claptrap was perhaps a shade better.  He had done some real harm.  He had, not quite unknowingly, worked for bloodshed, famine, and the extinction of liberty.  Yes, in a way.  But what a way!  He thought of those ultimate objectives so little.  Toeing the party line, self-importance, and above all mere routine, were what really dominated his life.

But now comes the point.  Gastronomically, all this is deplorable.  But I hope none of us puts gastronomy first.  Is it not, in another and far more serious way, full of hope and promise?

Consider, first, the mere quantity.  The quality may be wretched; but we never had souls (of a sort) in more abundance.

And then the triumph.  We are tempted to say that such souls—or such residual puddles of what once was soul—are hardly worth damning.  Yes, but the Enemy (for whatever inscrutable and perverse reason) thought them worth trying to save.  Believe me, He did.

You youngsters who have not yet been on active service have no idea with what labour, with what delicate skill, each of these miserable creatures was finally captured.

The difficulty lay in their very smallness and flabbiness.  Here were vermin so muddled in mind, so passively responsive to environment, that it was very hard to raise them to that level of clarity and deliberateness at which mortal sin becomes possible.  To raise them just enough; but not that fatal millimetre of ‘too much’.  For then, of course, all would possibly have been lost.  They might have seen; they might have repented.  On the other hand, if they had been raised too little, they would very possibly have qualified for Limbo, as creatures suitable neither for Heaven nor for Hell; things that, having failed to make the grade, are allowed to sink into a more or less contented sub-humanity forever.

C.S. Lewis

SCREWTAPE PROPOSES A TOAST

London Circa 1961

15 thoughts on “On THE **Federal** Judge — What, is an origin-A-list?

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