Neil Gorsuch is distinctly not dead. However, his legacy of The Fed takes up enough of my time and sanity that I must question his inadvertent influence on my life. I’m becoming intrigued about who Neil is—and isn’t that a spooky thought?
Instead of working on my archeology presentation, I’m reading through his Wikipedia page and scrolling on Oyez. I’m having violent flashbacks to high school, all centered around my constitutional law competition team. I’ve learned more today about the extent to which our civil rights are threatened and protected than in any class I’ve ever taken… and I’m an American Studies major.
The scariest part about this whole thing, though, is that when I look at myself in the mirror, I see him—staring right back at me. For every Fed that leaves my fingertips, I see him, a bright-eyed student, passing out his pamphlets. Time traveling, supernatural forces (and my basic human empathy) aside, he too was once just a student at Columbia contributing to The Fed. Perhaps, if given the tools (Adobe InDesign) he, too, would spend many a night hyper-fixating on the layout of the next print edition.
And so as I lay here writing this—alone in my bed, surrounded by dark, shivering after my recurring nightmare—a singularly horrifying thought possesses me.
Am I doomed to the life of a Supreme Court justice?
