'Indiana Jones and the Corrupt Court' | Opinion
Indiana Jones was not thinking of yet another new adventure when he lined up his putt on the ninth green of Bethesda Golf Course when a figure from the past came running up to him. It was Key Huy Quan, recent Oscar winner for "Everything Everywhere All at Once."
“Short Round!” exclaimed Jones. “I haven’t seen you since the 'Temple of Doom.' What have you been doing, buddy?”
“Well, a movie about an interdimensional rupture in a laundromat, and people with hot dog fingers,” Quan responded.
“What did I tell you about staying away from the hypnotic potions?” chided Jones.
“Indy,” replied Quan, “I know you are retired, but you look great.”
“CGI,” replied Jones. “Same thing that will make me sink this putt.” He does.
Quan grabs Jones’ golf bag. “No more time for games. The country is in peril and needs you desperately.”
“Let me get my whip and my hat,” declared Jones. “Where are we going now? Deepest recesses of the Congo? Nepalese opium dens? Haunted artifacts in a desert kingdom?”
“No,” said Quan. “It’s on First Street, right next to the Capitol and the Library of Congress.”
“Good God!” blurted Jones. “You’re talking about the Supreme Court.”
“Yes,” explained Quan. “It has become a corrupt and evil court that threatens us all.”
“OK,” muttered Jones as he pondered his next steps. “We could dig our way through an old cemetery, slide down an abandoned water tunnel, and blast our way out via the library annex.”
“Or we could just take the Metro,” suggested Quan.
“Have it your way,” shrugged Jones.
Quan and Jones arrive at the court and are ushered into a waiting room. A bored secretary seems to be ignoring them. Jones cracks his whip against the ceiling. “We must see Chief Justice Roberts immediately,” he bellows.
“Gone fishing,” she states, “the term just ended.”
“What about Alito or Thomas?” asked Quan.
“On some billionaire’s yacht or plane by now,” surmised the secretary.
“We need to shine the light of truth on them. Their faces might melt,” declared Jones.
“Others have tried,” noted the secretary, barely looking up from filing her nails. “Nothing has worked yet. You think I like them gutting abortion rights, or making college admissions tougher for struggling kids, getting rid of college debt relief, or allowing people to discriminate against gay people? I hate my job, but it’s a job.”
Quan tugs at Jones’ shirt. “Indy, I have another idea where we can go. It’s just by the Farragut West Metro Station and we still have money left on our transit cards.”
We next see Quan and Jones at a balcony overlooking a sumptuous luncheon of the Federalist Society. A group of old white men are laughing and celebrating. One of them stands and raises a champagne glass. “Gentlemen, to our best court session yet in rolling back rights by decades, and retaining forever the privileges we so rightly enjoy.”
The others applaud. One declares, “To Kegs Kavanaugh and Coke Can Thomas, may they never learn what we call them when they’re not here.” The group chuckles and drinks.
Another one toasts, “Let us thank Mitch McConnell for blocking Obama and giving us Justice Gorsuch.”
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Jones suddenly hears someone behind him. “Indy,” whispers Karen Allen as Marion Ravenwood, “once again late to the party.”
“Marion,” whispers Jones, “what’s going on here?”
“I’ve been watching this group since last year when the court stripped away women’s reproductive rights. This is the evil cabal we should have been fighting much sooner,” she lamented.
Waiters bring out plates of steaks for the Federalist luncheon guests.
“Steaks,” sighs Jones. “Why did it have to be steaks?”
“Do, you hate steaks, Indy?” asks Quan.
“No, Calista has me on a restrictive diet,” explained Jones.
“Hey,” interrupts Ravenwood. “Let’s stay focused. I have an idea. Why doesn’t the president simply add more and better justices?”
“There’s nothing in the Constitution that says nine,” noted Quan. “We could have 13 to match the number of appeals courts.”
“I heard the president say he won’t do it. Too much politicizing the court,” said Jones.
“It’s politicized now!” yells Ravenwood. Her blurt draws the attention of the Federalist Society luncheon guests, who motion to security guards to clear the balcony. Ravenwood, Quan and Jones dash for the exit. Jones yells to Ravenwood as they run. “There’s only one answer now, Marion, and that’s voting. Lots of voting for better people, so this never can happen again.”
Mark Harmon is a professor of journalism and media at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville.
This article originally appeared on Knoxville News Sentinel: Opinion: 'Indiana Jones and the Corrupt Court'
