Three days worth of fines could imperil
Alabama’s annual Montgomery Rickets Festival

Judge Roy Moore is facing fines and jail:

Moore was to be a central figure in a hearing before U.S. District Judge Myron Thompson on Friday, though it was not clear whether the chief justice would attend. He is the subject of a motion filed Wednesday by an attorney for the plaintiffs in the case asking Thompson to hold him in contempt for defying Thompson’s deadline of Thursday 12:01 a.m. to remove the monument from the public viewing area of the court building.

The judge has threatened to impose $5,000-a-day fines against the state if Moore left the monument in the rotunda. But after the eight associate justices of the Alabama high court ordered the marker to be removed, he could elect to punish Moore instead of the state taxpayers.

A state judicial inquiry board also was scheduled to hear accusations that Moore violated his oath by defying Thompson’s order. If the board finds that the complaint has merit, it will forward the matter to a judicial court and Moore would be automatically suspended until a decision is reached.

Meanwhile here’s a profile of Moore by Joe Maxwell sent in by reader Kevin, that is so canine in it’s worship of him, that it wins this week’s covetted Lingua D’Ubaldi. Sample exerpts:

Thomas Jefferson once used the metaphor in a letter. Then the United States Supreme Court dropped it—”wall of separation between church and state”—into a religion-in-school ruling on Feb. 10, 1947.

“I was born on the next day,” Roy Moore, chief justice of the Alabama Supreme Court, states, pausing for effect, his eyes like two pieces of dark, cold coal.


Leaning back in his chair, Justice Moore twirls pince-nez between fingers that once pulled the trigger in Vietnam, where his college roommate died. Costly conflict is not new to this native Alabamian, who finds meaning far beyond “duty, honor, country”—his West Point school’s motto—in the absolute God of the Bible.

“God is, will be, and has been,” the still-fit West Point 56-year-old sighs.

His maroon tie, white shirt buttons, and gold belt buckle strike a straight military line, more even than the tilted scales of justice behind him. Though nationally his message is loud and divisive, at least within his chambers, all is quiet, orderly—almost reverential. Then a Ten Commandment clock—one of many Decalogue devices in his chambers—strikes noon.

“Holy, Holy, Holy” … The rock table clock clanks out an entire verse of the hymn.

Justice Moore grins peevishly and points beside the clock to a worn green Living Bible with gold-leaf inscription: “Chief Justice Warren Earl Burger”—another gift.

For Justice Moore, words—especially of Scripture—are legally vital, keys to good or bad law, to be handled like prized power tools. He speaks in musical machine-gun spurts, followed by cavernous quiets, as if he is reloading; then another rat-a-tat-tat into the heart of some “vain thought,” a quote from Romans 1 he uses to sum up the problems of today’s judicial system.

The good folks at the Onion must be in awe of Maxwell. He is either craptastic or suckillicious, I can’t make up my mind.



Yeah. Like I would tell you....