Forget the Necessary and Proper Clause, We Need an IDGARA Amendment to the Constitution

I would like to propose an amendment to the Constitution.

It would, of course, be a mere formality. It would, however, make constitutional the excesses, overreaches, violations, and abuses regularly visited by government actors upon the People, upon individuals, and upon States.

The Amendment would be styled, The I Don't Give a Rat's Ass Amendment, and it would read as follows:

Whenever this Amendment shall have been ratified by three fourths of the States, or whenever any government officials needs or desires to pretend that it shall have been so ratified, then this Amendment shall be part and parcel of the Constitution, and shall amend and modify each and every letter, word, clause, sentence, paragraph, portion, provision, Article and part thereof, so that, as amended, every provision of the Constitution shall be understood to read, 'If I care what the Constitution says, then and only then will I abide by its terms; when, however, I find the terms and provisions of the Constitution inconvenient, obstructive, or unhelpful, then I don't give a Rat's Ass what it says, and that's perfectly permissible."

In writing on the Law, Thomas Aquinas suggested that positive law, law enacted by man, should be limited in terms and scope and number, and should comport itself to the conduct of men (as consistent with God's law). The I Don't Give a Rat's Ass Amendment does just that. It avoids the niceties and restrictions that so often are merely forms and shadows, and too often observed in their breach.

If you read in these words a criticism limited to Democrats, then you misunderstand the temper of my criticism.

John Roberts has twice deployed the essential power of the I Don't Give a Rat's Ass principle in sustaining the Obamacare Act against constitutional challenges. Lest you forget, Roberts is a hopeful monster of Republican creation.

Anthony Kennedy has three times deployed the essential power of the I Don't Give a Rat's Ass principle as he causally but casually pushed America toward acceptance of a Supreme Court ruling holding that the framers of the Fourteenth Amendment intended to prohibit limitations on marriage that discriminate against same-sex couples.

George W. Bush deployed the I Don't Give a Rat's Ass principle in signing the Bipartisan Campaign Reform Act of 2002 into law despite his stated conclusion that several provisions of the law were, in his judgment, unconstitutional. He deployed that same principle with his grotesque enlargements of Clinton era surveillance programs when he pushed for, and signed into law, the PATRIOT Act.

Of course, it isn't just Presidents and Supreme Court justices that handily rely upon and invoke the essentials of the I Don't Give a Rat's Ass principle.

Too often, Congress enacts laws of uncertain constitutionality, leaving to the Courts the performance of its own separate duty to judge whether bills presented for consideration satisfy constitutional norms.

The FCC has reared its ugly head to seize the Internet, a medium of communication, and appears intent on deciding how private persons and organization use that medium to communicate. That the Constitution prohibits any law abridging the freedom of speech and of the press simply elicits from Net Neutrality Commissioners an entirely unsurprising "I Don't Give a Rat's Ass."

I hope that you will consider adding your voice to mine.

It is time to relieve beleaguered elected officials and agents of government of the shameful task of pretense, the arduous artifices of obfuscation, bound up in being required to pretend that they care what the Constitution says.

With the "I Don't Give a Rat's Ass Amendment" then we truly can advance to an open, honest, government in the sunshine.

Can the Giant be Roused? Slumber versus Rigor Mortis

There are wonderful visual images in literature, in Gulliver's Travels, for example, the image of Gulliver, as the Lilliputians called him, a "man-mountain," being restrained by the smallest of strands and pegs. Popular culture also offers stunning visuals, the "Final Destination" series of movies has the recurring theme of a morgue, and in the first outing, the director takes us inside the morgue where a body is on the slab being prepared for embalming.  Oddly, literature and popular culture depend on the image of the human body in repose to set stories into action, to create tensions, and the like.  Fortunately, these are stories.  They entertain, they can amaze, inspire, and even startle or frighten.  Who avoids a vague unease when presented, by Edgar Allen Poe or a modern director, with the reality of having been buried alive?

When we write, when we create, we reflect the image of God, or at least, we can reflect it.

God is a writer. He has written in stone, as the story of the Ten Commandments tells us, and He writes in hearts, as the testimony of His grace tell us.

When we write, we can reflect His image in us. I think that is certainly the case with the writing of JRR Tolkien, whose The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings are suffused with a distinctly Christian and Catholic theology. The long struggle between good and evil plays out in the story. Death and Resurrection do too. Redemption and forgiveness are there. Agape defines the fellowship of the Ring.

Today, though, I've been in a conversation with friends about our Nation. That conversation puts me, again, in mind of how I see the Nation in which we now find ourselves. I'm including this short video link from youtube.

You'll understand me better if you watch it, and understand that I see America, particularly, and Western Civilization generally, as Theoden, and the culture of the last six or seven decades as Grimma Wormtongue, bathing us in despair, self-loathing, and a willing acceptance of our own end.

Obama and his sycophants are not, necessarily Grimma, at least not alone. The gospel of doubt, of fear, of self-loathing, is preached in academia, has fed generations of college students who, in turn, became America's teacher corps. That same gospel is then replicated as efficiently as the production of RNA and DNA in a cell in schools the Nation over.

You can hear the whisper of it. "You aren't an exceptional nation. In fact, you're a tired, old thing, worn from years of taking more burdens on than anyone should have done. You've had your day on the stage, and what do you have to show for your ham-fisted attempts after all, except the loathing of France, the mocking of Russia, and the shadow of China on your heels?"

For my Republican friends, you should mark this point. 

We do not need a technical Republican. We do not need an efficient manager. We need a wind of inspiration. A voice, a clarion, waking us sensibly both to the present danger of our despair and to the bright possibilities of returning to the track where we so vigorously trod before, a path into a future filled with new mornings and bright days. This means, unfortunately for some of you, that we do not need Romney, and we do not need Bush. Neither has the voice. Neither embodies the message. Even among the proven, successful governors, it will not be enough that we select the best governor of the most productive State, unless that governor has that prophetic voice that echoes Reagan's in message and impact.

We need our own Gandalf.

Can the Giant be Roused? Slumber versus Rigor Mortis

There are wonderful visual images in literature, in Gulliver's Travels, for example, the image of Gulliver, as the Lilliputians called him, a "man-mountain," being restrained by the smallest of strands and pegs. Popular culture also offers stunning visuals, the "Final Destination" series of movies has the recurring theme of a morgue, and in the first outing, the director takes us inside the morgue where a body is on the slab being prepared for embalming.  Oddly, literature and popular culture depend on the image of the human body in repose to set stories into action, to create tensions, and the like.  Fortunately, these are stories.  They entertain, they can amaze, inspire, and even startle or frighten.  Who avoids a vague unease when presented, by Edgar Allen Poe or a modern director, with the reality of having been buried alive?

When we write, when we create, we reflect the image of God, or at least, we can reflect it.

God is a writer. He has written in stone, as the story of the Ten Commandments tells us, and He writes in hearts, as the testimony of His grace tell us.

When we write, we can reflect His image in us. I think that is certainly the case with the writing of JRR Tolkien, whose The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings are suffused with a distinctly Christian and Catholic theology. The long struggle between good and evil plays out in the story. Death and Resurrection do too. Redemption and forgiveness are there. Agape defines the fellowship of the Ring.

Today, though, I've been in a conversation with friends about our Nation. That conversation puts me, again, in mind of how I see the Nation in which we now find ourselves. I'm including this short video link from youtube.

You'll understand me better if you watch it, and understand that I see America, particularly, and Western Civilization generally, as Theoden, and the culture of the last six or seven decades as Grimma Wormtongue, bathing us in despair, self-loathing, and a willing acceptance of our own end.

Obama and his sycophants are not, necessarily Grimma, at least not alone. The gospel of doubt, of fear, of self-loathing, is preached in academia, has fed generations of college students who, in turn, became America's teacher corps. That same gospel is then replicated as efficiently as the production of RNA and DNA in a cell in schools the Nation over.

You can hear the whisper of it. "You aren't an exceptional nation. In fact, you're a tired, old thing, worn from years of taking more burdens on than anyone should have done. You've had your day on the stage, and what do you have to show for your ham-fisted attempts after all, except the loathing of France, the mocking of Russia, and the shadow of China on your heels?"

For my Republican friends, you should mark this point. 

We do not need a technical Republican. We do not need an efficient manager. We need a wind of inspiration. A voice, a clarion, waking us sensibly both to the present danger of our despair and to the bright possibilities of returning to the track where we so vigorously trod before, a path into a future filled with new mornings and bright days. This means, unfortunately for some of you, that we do not need Romney, and we do not need Bush. Neither has the voice. Neither embodies the message. Even among the proven, successful governors, it will not be enough that we select the best governor of the most productive State, unless that governor has that prophetic voice that echoes Reagan's in message and impact.

We need our own Gandalf.