PHILADELPHIA – Every so often, you’ll hear some prick on your television say something like “This is not what the Founding Fathers envisioned when they wrote the Constitution” or “Thomas Jefferson must be spinning in his grave right now over this court’s ruling,” or “All men are created equal? Were those Founding Fathers a bunch of opium-addled, slave-fucking hypocrites, or what?”
Implicit in such statements is the assumption the person whose face is making noises at the moment has some actual insight into the mental state of people who died so long ago they never encountered a question or controversy remotely like the one being discussed, whether the conversation is about internet porn, genetic engineering, or the ethics of using flying robots to shoot Hellfire missiles into Pakistani wedding parties on the off chance the best man might be a terrorist.
Of course, in reality no mere pundit can reliably speak for the Founding Fathers, no matter how many history books they’ve read (or written), any more than I can tell you how an 18[SUP]th[/SUP] Century satirist would go about making fun of the Twitter phenomenon just because I do so all the time myself.
Fortunately, there are those who can speak to the Founding Fathers and subsequently relay their opinions, attitudes and fashion advice to the modern masses. I’m speaking, of course, of the specialized manner of confirmed, verified and paid-by-the-minute psychic known as a necromancer — a person who communicates with the dead.
A lot of people confuse necromancers with necrophiles — people who have sex with the dead. Granted, there is some crossover between the two populations, but you can easily spot the necromancers who are also necrophiles, because instead of talking to your dead relatives during your paid sessions, necrophiliac psychics spend the whole time trying to pick up on the ghost of Audrey Hepburn.
At any rate, after growing weary of the ongoing debate about whether the Founding Fathers would approve of extending First Amendment protection to porn, I recently retained the services of renowned necromancer and psychic medium Edward Smythe to explore the question directly and get the answer straight from the extensively decomposed horse’s mouth.
Below is the transcript of my session with Smythe, who successfully reached the spirits of several Founding Fathers during a midnight session over the weekend of May 16.
Edward Smythe: Spirits, I am Edward Smythe, and I am known to you. We have spoken before, you will remember, back when Dick Morris was working on The American Revolution Reconsidered.
Unidentified Spirit: Oh, Christ. You again? What do you want this time, a referral to a dentist who makes wooden dentures?
Smythe: Identify yourself, oh spirit, so my guest, the honorable scribe Ben Suroeste, may take down your name for the record.
Unidentified Spirit: This is George Washington — but you already know that you ill-mannered putz, because you’ve interrupted our weekly Saturday night poker game many times before, despite being asked to limit your contacts to the accepted Founding Father Séance hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 3-5 p.m. Eastern.
Smythe: George Washington, what other spirits are with you at this hour?
George Washington: For the moment, I’m joined by Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton and John Adams — but John is all-in on this hand, and he’s very obviously bluffing as usual, so he’s liable to walk out in a vicious, poverty-driven rage at any moment.
John Adams: Fuck you, George, you smug, card-catching, no-talent prick. Are you calling, folding, or what?
Thomas Jefferson: Stop bogarting that joint, Ben. Some others among us would like to get a buzz on while we’re all still dead, you know.
Ben Franklin: [Coughs] Yeah, yeah, yeah. Maybe if you knew how to roll them a bit better, these blunts wouldn’t develop runs all the time, forcing me to repair and reignite them whenever one is passed my way, Tommy.
Smythe: Spirits, forgive us the interruption, but the scribe Suroeste has asked me to pose an important question to you.
Washington: Oh sure, I’ll bet it’s important — just like it was so damn urgent for Doris Kearns Goodwin to know how I went about washing my powdered wig and whether any mercury solvents were involved the time you just had to bug us right in the middle of season five finale of The Walking Dead.
Adams: Cut the crap and cut to the chase, Necro Boy. What’s the fucking question, already?
Smythe: The scribe Suroeste would like to know, when you wrote the First Amendment, did you intend for its protections to extend to pornography and other indecencies, or are you offended by such and believe them to be criminal?
Jefferson: Seriously? That’s the question?
Smythe: Yes, oh spirit, the question is about porn.
Jefferson: Remind me: Doesn’t the First Amendment include the words “Congress shall make no law?”
Smythe: Yes, but—
Adams: But what? You need us to draw you a fucking map? We said “no law.” What part of that is hard to understand? Do you 21[SUP]st[/SUP] Century types also have trouble adding small numerical sums to create slightly larger numerical sums?
Franklin: Actually they do, Tommy. They aren’t too swift with language anymore, either. Ironically, a whole generation of them can’t even say or spell the entire word “failure,” for example.
Smythe: So, that’s a definite and resounding “yes” on the First Amendment and porn question, then?
Jefferson: Fuck me, he does need a map.
Washington: Well, I’m not sure it’s such a simple question, really.
Franklin: Really? What, you don’t like depictions of butt-fucking or something? Does it offend your precious little Christian sensibilities?
Smythe: Forgive me, honored spirit Ben Franklin, but did they even have depictions of anal sex in your time?
Franklin: Jesus, you really are a retard, aren’t you? Have you ever heard of the Kama Sutra, numbnuts? Nobody ever told you about Shunga? I’ll have you know my personal porn collection was every bit as large and varied as what you modern folk “download” these days, only much higher quality, involving fewer incidents of men ejaculating in women’s faces and, admittedly, a lot less approving of interracial action.
Washington: I’ll have you know, unlike my randy, electricity-obsessed friend here, I never once defiled my eyes with pornographic images.
[Guffaws of from the other Founding Spirits.]
Franklin: Oh shit, that’s just too fucking funny. Please don’t say that again, George. I might laugh until my beer-ravaged liver explodes.
Washington: You dare question my integrity, Franklin? Has the laudanum finally warped your judgment completely?
Adams: Oh, lighten up, George. They’ve already written the history books, and everybody knows you’re on the record as someone who “cannot tell a lie” — just like we didn’t catch you using a stray ace of spades as a coaster for your mug during last week’s game.
Thomas Jefferson: What say you, Alexander? You’ve been pretty quiet over there.
Alexander Hamilton: I have asked you many times, Tom: Please call me ‘Alexan-dra.’
Franklin: Shit, here we go again with the “I’m a woman trapped in a Founding Father’s body” thing….
Alexandra Hamilton: If you could stop being brutishly insensitive to the feelings of others for one moment, Ben, I do have something to say here.
Franklin: Oh, by all means, Alexandra. Please do edify us, Mister — excuse me — Miss Ten Dollar Bill.
Hamilton: As the most Constitutionally literate member of this weekly celestial poker game, I must I say I concur with my colleagues in the general sense. Porn, whatever one may think of it as an ethical or moral proposition, clearly does represent a manner of expression, and as such it clearly should be protected under the First Amendment. But….
Washington: But what, Alex?
Hamilton: But, I do wish the porn industry was more inclusive, more accepting of otherness, less racist and sexist in its marketing and content production and far less misogynistic in general.
Franklin: Here, here — agreed! Shall we all hold hands and sing “Kumbaya” now, or can we get back to taking all of John’s money?
Adams: Like you fare any better, you balding bastard. Shit, if George hadn’t relented on letting you pay down your marker with chunks of hash, you’d still be trying to worm your way back in to John Jay’s backgammon parties.
Washington: Do you have everything you need from us, Eddie Bill, or Tommy John, or whatever your stupid name is? Is the great scribe Sudafed hereby satisfied, or must we waste more valuable poker time responding to your inane queries?
Smythe: Yes, honored spirits, the scribe Suroeste indicates he is indeed satisfied. Please return to your ethereal realm to carry on in your spiritual deeds.
Franklin: Great! You know we’re always happy to help — or maybe I just say so to spare my friend George here from having to let loose with yet another fib.
[More laughter, followed by an audible click and the celestial dial tone.]
So there you go folks: The straight dope on the First Amendment and porn, directly from the Founding Fathers themselves.
Tune in next time when Smythe and I get together with various deceased members of the Kennedy clan to talk about gun control, the perils of driving under the influence and whether John really got to play hide the shillelagh with Marilyn Monroe back in the day.
