👨‍⚖️"Supreme Enablers" Edition

Once upon a time, the Supreme Court was considered a co-equal branch of government. Now, it seems to have rebranded as the Executive Branch’s most obedient intern, filing unsigned emergency rulings and rubber-stamping whatever happens to fall off the White House legal wish list.

In recent months, the Court has granted President Trump’s administration a flawless 15-for-15 record on emergency applications—faster than a Vegas slot machine but with higher stakes. Most of these rulings arrive unsigned, unreasoned, and under cover of night via the infamous "shadow docket," which now functions less like a judicial mechanism and more like a magical executive eraser for inconvenient laws.

While lower federal courts attempt to do their jobs—despite being lied to, defied, and ignored by the executive branch—the Supreme Court appears to have adopted a new role: referee of those lower courts, making sure they don’t get too uppity with this whole “checks and balances” thing.

The Court's logic? If they rule against the executive, the president might just ignore them anyway—so better to preemptively give him what he wants. Institutional preservation through total submission: it's not cowardice, it's "strategic deference."

This deference is especially apparent in recent rulings that have greenlit the dismantling of federal agencies, allowed deportations to countries with zero connection to the deportees, and upheld laws barring transgender minors from receiving medical care—while simultaneously defending the right of parents to shield their kids from storybooks with too many rainbows. Apparently, parental rights are sacred—unless those parents are trying to help their trans kids, in which case the legislature knows best.

Even more troubling, the Court is now flirting with Trump’s push to erase birthright citizenship, using legal gymnastics so brazen that Loving v. Virginia is probably spinning in its grave. And if you’re wondering whether newborns can lawyer up individually to challenge their status as citizens—don’t worry, the Court may soon let you know. Or not. Depends on how shadowy the docket gets.

The real fear? The Supreme Court is no longer a brake on executive power but an enabler of it, nodding politely as Trump pushes boundaries and redraws the Overton window with a Sharpie. From denying medical rights to trans teens, to allowing the president to threaten celebrities’ citizenship over late-night impersonations, the bar for “constitutional” has dropped to ankle level (not unlike Epstein’s pants).

The eyes of the nation, including the Court's, are adjusting to the darkness. And if this is what judicial “restraint” looks like, then restraint now seems indistinguishable from retreat. After all, a court that’s too afraid to call lawlessness by its name isn’t really a court anymore—it’s just a very expensive rubber stamp in robes.

Mike Luckovich - Creators

Jack Ohman - Tribune Content Agency

Lee Judge - King Features

Walt Handelsman - Tribune Content Agency

Drew Sheneman - Tribune Content Agency

Rob Rogers - Andrews McMeel

Michael Ramirez - Creators

Bill Bramhall - Tribune Content Agency

Nick Anderson - Tribune Content Agency

The Trump administration has decided that if at first you don’t succeed in proving voter fraud, try again—this time with a clipboard, a court order, and a guy who used to work for Lauren Boebert. In a bold revival of the 2020 “stop the steal” world tour, federal officials are now quietly leaning on states to hand over voter rolls and maybe, just maybe, let them “take a quick peek” inside some voting machines—purely for election integrity purposes, of course.

In Colorado, where Trump lost by double digits, clerks have been getting calls from a man named Jeff Small, who claims he’s working with the White House on a “timely election project.” Translation: the administration would like access to sensitive equipment typically reserved for people with actual security clearance and jobs that aren’t labeled “former Boebert chief of staff.” Unsurprisingly, most clerks responded with variations of “absolutely not,” “that’s illegal,” and “go jump in the Gulf of Mexico”—a time-honored bipartisan response to weird federal election fishing expeditions.

Meanwhile, the Justice Department is requesting voter data from at least nine states—Democratic and Republican alike—as part of what critics fear is an effort to build a national voter database just in time for the 2026 midterms. The DOJ insists it’s just making sure voter rolls are tidy, but election officials are worried it’s less about maintenance and more about creating a centralized “who to disenfranchise next” list.

Some of the questions being asked include things like, “Why hasn’t Alaska purged anyone for mental incompetence?”—which, coming from the administration that made “inject bleach” a public health talking point, is a little too on the nose.

Election officials from both parties are alarmed. Republican clerks in Colorado flatly refused to allow machine inspections, citing security concerns and the minor detail that such access would be wildly illegal. One even got a follow-up call from Homeland Security asking if they could "test" the voting equipment for “gaps”—because soothing public trust requires surprise audits from uninvited federal agents.

Legal experts and privacy advocates are warning that the administration’s plan—whatever it actually is—could result in a massive, insecure database of 174 million voter records. Because if there’s one thing America loves, it’s handing over all its sensitive information to a government currently obsessed with imaginary voter fraud.

As for Trump? He’s still publicly fuming about the “Rigged and Stolen Election of 2020,” which apparently requires fresh data, more lawsuits, and another round of “investigations” into why people with Hispanic last names dared to vote.

So buckle up, America. The federal government is here to help—whether you asked for it or not.