And when I’ve assembled all the necessary evidence of criminality, I, from the pistachio-eating comfort of my Kook Law Containment Field right in the middle of the station house, will invite that poor little turd, that has-been of jurisdictions, that sclerotic old whore of a yesterday’s-news little nothing of a limp-noodle “jurisdiction,” the United States, to hitch up its pants and enforce its own laws.
And obviously that will never occur.
Who knew that killing a jurisdiction could be so easy? All you have to do is make a loud fuss, say lots and lots of intemperate things, get escorted right on schedule into the inner sanctum, and then yank out cables and watch the sparks fly.
I am having the absolute time of my life methodically powering down that idiot jurisdiction.