Take notes. There are two  Americas. The rich tribe. And the poor tribe. Nothing of significance in between. The senate is the rich guys. They never go down without a blood feud. The House of Representatives is also with the rich guys. They do go down regularly. The bottom is never bottom enough. The Supreme Court is not a tribe either of substance or authority. There are two kinds of justices. The rich kind with their fingers in our face. And the rich kind with their fingers in our face. I would gleefully clap with joy if the justices had to go out into the real world and find a real job. I dare you to go out into the street right now. Take your bullhorn and ask the public one question: Who Thinks We Need These Rich Guys.

No one.

They are expendable. And they have a lot of help. A lot of help. They have minions who fetch books, coffee, and wash the dishes with soap. No rich guy sees himself or herself as expendable. What is it these people do. Beyond the free rides and the camping trips and the best, only the best, health care money can buy. Giving Speeches. But do people listen. We smile because we would like to give a few of those ourselves clocking in at 50K per speech. I want an RV, too. And flags. Little flags that their wives wave back and forth, back and forth. Guess who writes their speeches. Go over to your SCOTUS window. Open it. Put your head out there and scream: “We Need More Money, We Need A Raise.” Listen up. You do not need a raise. You need validity.