The Roberts Hearing Drinking Game
COBURN: Right. I'm not asking you about legal significance. Would you agree that the opposite of being dead is being alive?
ROBERTS: Yes.
While I prefer to leave such metaphysical debate to philosophers or at least post-midnight televangelists, I must admit it is comforting to know that, should he be forced, Roberts could probably do very well on the verbal portion of the SATs. Still, I can't help but wonder when the most exciting question concerning the potential appointment of a CJ of SCOTUS is who's the bitch and who's the butch in his secret Gay Homosexual affair with David Souter. I mean, having Roberts' evasive willy bobbing and weaving through his colon is really the only excuse Souter could possibly have for not saying something about Rehnquist's passing.
And even then, he would still have his hands free.
Anyway, to combat the mind-numbing ass-kissery that is the whole of this process, I've decided to turn it into a drinking game. The rules are simple:
1. Drink whenever the soft ball lobbed at Roberts' eerily expressionless head is on par with a question shot at Brad Pitt by Tigerbeat.
3. Drink whenever Laura Bush calls Hurricane KATRINA something other than KATRINA (although this could pretty much be its own drinking game at this point). It's Hurricane KATRINA, you dumb, vaccuous, murdering, bitch of a terrible mother. I know you're not good with names, but make a damn effort.
Just three rules and you can leave the last one out if you like having a functional liver. Play this game and see the hearing Ted Kennedy sees.
Mind you, there are no winners in this game. Everybody loses.
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