Justice Thomas has Very Dear Friends

 

The owlish device of Bohemian Grove says" Weaving spiders come not here" and this is the crux of the story--weaving spiders be everywhere when a Supreme Court Justice is accepting hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of gifts from politically involved billionaires.  Why, yes, that story was from 2011. Clarence Thomas has told on himself when he admits his dear friendship with Harlan Crow has been for something on the order of 25 plus years, when he has been on SCOTUS for nearly 32 years. 

Did he get endeared by this very good friend after having become a SCOTUS? and wouldn't any one of you find the lavishing of multi-million-dollar trips and so on very endearing? Of course, you are dear friends--now. 

Now, where this stands in the current court, where a leak was probably covered up, shouldn't we worry? Don't we respect this court though, all warts and blemishes aside?

No. We know Justice Roberts has potential conflicts of interest. Amy Coney Barret has conflicts of interest. It lends a lot of credence to Thomas' excuse: I consulted with other jurists and was told this would fly. The current situation on the court is because there never was a standard, and eventually, the idea of maintaining one seemed quaint. But just because something is status quo doesn't mean it's acceptable.

Thomas and his very activist wife (whose household contributions Thomas has also not reported previously), who participated in the attempt to overturn a presidential election, aren't actually above suspicion about their actions. Maybe the more so because of the current Justices, Thomas is one who has previously decided an entire election. 

Now, Thomas has assured us that he isn't the kind to be swayed by the temptations of his wealthy friends, that he prefers the simple pleasures of the RV parks, the Walmart parking lots. And sure, I can envision that:

Clarence Thomas leaned against his fig tree, chewing on a straw in the evening air to keep his mouth occupied while Ginni sat on the steps, tuning up her dulcimer. There were evenings like this, under the big sky, when it seemed like the problems of the world were falling away from them and only now existed, where God was good and life was simple, and the struggles and the contentions of it all were a thousand miles below them. 

Life was good and the night air and the tree and the dulcimer were enough, but then Ginnie shot Clarence a look, and though he was a thousand miles away from the earth, he snapped back.

"We can travel light on this trip."

And sure they could. Sure they could. Because where they were going, they could always get what they needed when they got there.

"We will," he responded. And they both laughed, faintly.

Because they both knew on this trip, their dear friends would always, always provide. And between them, the fig tree and vine, there was none to make them afraid, with friends like these. Everything was provided. Everything at all.

It's very Steinbeck in its way. The Grapes of Graft. 

I'd love a path to throw the rascals out. Here's an obvious start.