The Impotent Satyr

The internet--mainly QAnon, guzzler of the biggest conspiracies the interwebs can conceive--has claimed that Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg is dead. After undergoing a surgery that removed cancerous growths from her lung, the 85-year-old Justice has been reportedly working from home while recovery persists.

But that's only half the truth.

RBG is coming back, and she's coming back hard. "Working from home" has been her code phrase for tenderizing the dead animals hanging in fellow Justice Sonia Sotomayer's walk-in freezer, with her fists. Her left hook is so mean that it sent a pig carcass flying across the room into another pig carcass where they merged into one mega swine.

But why all this training?

Because she's sick and tired of these rumors falsely claiming she's deceased; and she knows you started that rumor, and she's coming for you. You're already dead--you just don't know it yet.

You're on a crowded subway. It's your stop. You go to step onto the platform but your legs won't move. Your lungs explode. You didn't feel it, but RBG was on that same transit. She punched you with supersonic speed three minutes ago and your body has just realized it.

You're walking up the stairs to the Philadelphia Museum of Art when a grey blur springs past you. Blood gushes out of your mouth just before your heart explodes; your body crumples like a wad of paper under Ginsburg's heel.

You arrive home from a long day of spreading lies about RBG only to find her standing in your kitchen with the blender out. Before you can take one last glance at your onlooking children, she's snatched your eyes from their sockets, dropped them in the blender, and gulped them down. All you hear is a loud belch ahead of your nose protruding out the back of your head.

You think you're safe? No--Ruth is coming to abort your ass.