Obey “God,” Kill Ginsberg
You inch closer to Ginsburg with the pillow. She’s sleeping like a baby. Just as you’re about cover her face, she’s awakened by a commercial for Carnival Cruise. Her eyes widen at the sight of the pillow, she pivots on the bed and delivers a roundhouse kick that lifts you off your feet. She leaps to her feet, kicks you in the gut and follows up with a karate chop to the back, which knocks you to the ground. Dumbfounded, you collapse into her closet where her Supreme Court robe hangs, just back from the cleaners.Â
“I’ve been taking aikido for six years at the JCC,” says Ginsburg. “You’re fucking with the wrong Supreme Court Justice!”
She follows you into the closet, takes her robe off its wire hanger and unwinds its steel coils. She presses the wire against your throat and begins to choke you. Harder and harder, she pulls until you start to lose air.
“Your death begins at my conception” are the last words you hear before you lose consciousness.
(Want another shot at presidential glory? Start over.)