#RV 3 COMING NOVEMBER BITCH!!!!

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Of Dust and Ashes (Chapter 17)

Happy Friday! Did y’all miss me last week? Oh yeah- I made a thing. 

There isn’t much to say before this chapter. I want to thank @winterisakiller for keeping me grounded and listening to me complain about how hard writing is. Also, for keeping me from killing all the characters. A river of blood, she has prevented. And on the other side of the coin, I’m thanking @tnystrk-exe who encourages me to not back down from the darkness that is this world. 

Chapter warnings: A minor PTSD event and hunting. 

Lord knows I run on Ko-Fi. Check out the Masterlist for prior chapters!

Chapter 17- A Birthday With no Cake

November 7th,  15 weeks post Decimation

Her breath froze in her chest as the world felt like it shattered around her. Deanna’s vision seemed to close in, focusing on the single point where the date was displayed on the phone’s screen. Even after the screen went black, she stood there frozen.  

The world ticked on around her. With robotic movements, she pulled the pan off the bread and turned off the stove. She wouldn’t remember later but she put the lid on the pot. Her knees wobbled as she walked backward, not even noticing the ache in her ankle as she flopped down on the dinette bench.  

That’s where Clint found her some time later. The blanket was bunched against her chest and her whole body was curled around it. Her sobs rocked through her body and he was at a loss over what could have caused them. Looking around, he saw a loaf of bread that looked damn near perfect and the smell of stew- far better than out of the can- was heavy in the air.  

“Dinner smells good, Babe.” He said.

It was a dumb thing to say, he knew it even as the words left his mouth. But what else was there to say? He knelt in front of her, wrapping his hands around her ankles. He sat, rubbing his thumb along the ridge of bone under the fabric. After waiting for a moment and giving her the chance to acknowledge him, he realized she wasn’t going to.

With a soft grip, he pulled her legs down, uncurling her. He was mindful of her ankle as he set each foot on either side of his legs. She didn’t fight him as he slowly moved her limbs. His hands moved up, strong fingers rubbing her thighs. He hooked her hair behind her ears as she moved the blanket to her face, hiding in it even as she continued sobbing.  

“What is it?”  

“He should be here.” She croaked out. The words were almost lost in her watery sobs.

“Who?” Clint’s mind was reeling, working overtime to try and figure out what could be happening as it became clear she wasn’t in a condition to answer. On the table was the stuffed fox, largely discarded at the moment. All her pain and desperation was centered on the blanket. “Frankie?”  

“Birth-birthday.”

“It’s Frankie’s Birthday?” Clint asked, glancing back at his phone. It was the only thing that was keeping track of the date in the RV before giving her his full attention. “Hey, hey- I know it hurts.”

She rocked forward, starting to lean into him. She seemed to melt into him, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. There was no shame in it. Clint leaned back, falling on his ass lightly and bracing his back against the counter. She slipped off the bench and into his lap in a limp puddle, clinging to him.  

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly to him. There wasn’t anything he could say to make it better. It was useless to try. If they were lucky, in a little while the sobs would ease, she would calm and while the sadness would remain- it would always remain- they could begin to move on.

“I’m sorry.” She whimpered.

“It’s fine, Babe.” He rubbed her back as she slowly calmed. “Just breath. I know it hurts.”

“I’m sorry.” Leaning back, she looked at him and Clint hated himself for how beautiful he found her. He hooked some hair behind her ear instead of telling her so.

“Don’t- There isn’t anything to be sorry for.” He whispered.  

“You’re not breaking down, crying over the littlest things.”  

“I’ll have my turn. It’s just a matter of time, I’m sure.” He was silent for a moment. "It's not a little thing, anyway."  

She sniffled as he helped her to her feet, leading her to sit again on the dinette bench. “You have it so together.”

“I really don’t. I put on a good front, I know. I smile and laugh and act like I’m okay. But honestly, I can hardly spend any time in the house alone.”

“Right.”

“Right.” He said, though she gave him a look that showed doubt. “I’m telling the truth! Anyway, sit. Let me bowl up- you’ll feel a bit better after you eat. And after we eat- we can welcome Tony and his ladies to the chicken coop.”

He was right. After she nibbled at the food for a while, she began to feet a bit better. It didn’t take the hurt away, but once she calmed down it was a duller ache. She clutched the blanket in her lap, even as she finished her bowl. It was halfway through the bowl that she began to feel the pangs of hunger resurface.  

She didn’t want to eat, not really. But she did eat a second bowl and another slice of bread. Each bite was taken with robotic movements as they ate in silence. When the bowls were again empty, Clint made quick work of putting up the remaining stew. The remnants of the bread were stowed away in the breadbox that now sat on the dining table.  

The chickens settled into their coop quickly and by the end of the second week, the hens had begun laying. When Clint went into town to source chicken feed, Deanna came with.

It was the first time she had left the property since Clint had brought her there. It felt strange leaving. As soon as they passed through the gate surrounding the land, she felt on edge and exposed. The weight of Clint’s hand settled over hers, fingers weaving their way between hers.  

Looking at him, he offered her a smile. It wasn’t that wide grin he had been giving and she was thankful for it. It was an honest smile, small and reassuring. Only when she let the tension from her shoulders fall, did he bring her knuckles to his lips.

“It will be fine.”  

“I know.” She said, though she still worried.  

They each had a gun, loaded and at the ready in case they encountered other people. Trust walked around in the back of the truck, unworried as it rocked over the dirt road. The radio scanned the airwaves, finding very little of anything. On the AM channels there was some government broadcasts filling the airwaves. They were all prerecorded and playing on loop to remind anyone hearing that they are a part of the United States of America. As Americans they were expected to act like with honor.

It was just talk, according to Clint. He’d been out almost many times in the last few weeks and hadn’t seen any sign of the world righting itself. When Deanna pressed him for more information, he admitted that the last time he had spoken to Natasha that the government was still in shambles.  

The President of the United States did survive the decimation but most of the first family were believed to be dusted. Many high level politicians were still unaccounted for, leaving the House and Senate incomplete. The Vice President had also made it out of the Decimation but died a few weeks later due to what had appeared to be a heart attack.

The government was struggling to locate and consolidate all the surviving members of the high ranks. The military was as fractured as the rest of the government with members at all ranks having gone either to dust or just plain missing. They were hardly managing to maintain control over the eastern coast where a majority of the American population had been located. While the promises of aid to the rest of the country kept coming, nothing had materialized yet and likely wouldn't for a while still. Martial Law was technically in effect but there simply wasn't enough resources to execute and enforce it.  

It was hard to think about what it would be like once the government did take control again. It seemed like something far off, if it would ever happen at all. What would that mean for her? Who even would be the owner of the house she had left behind? Would she be charged for past mortgage payments?

“You’re worrying.” Clint announced.  

“Am not.”  

“About what?” It was clear that he wasn’t going to let it go. It was one of the many things she found endearing about him, though sometimes it did drive her up the wall.  

“Dumb shit.” The look he gave her as they turned onto what had once been a main road made it clear he was fishing for a proper answer. “Mortgage payments.”  

He laughed, “If the world ever rights itself enough for anyone to give a shit about your mortgage- I’ll pay it.”  

“Have you lost your mind.”

“Hey- I can afford it! And it’s not like I’ll be putting anyone through college now.” His joke fell flat the moment he made it. He tried, but it was still too soon for both of them. Perhaps it would always be too soon.

“Yeah.” She whispered and they fell into silence for a good while.  

~~~~~<3

“Is that a turkey?” Deanna had never actually seen a wild turkey before. Sure, she knew what they looked like, in theory but seeing one in person was different. Especially just meandering down the highway after they had spent three hours driving around rural back roads looking for them.  

“Son of a bitch, it is.” Clint quickly pulled the truck over, not daring to get too close and scare it away. “Trust, keep that barker turned off.” He pointed at the dog in the back seat in warning.  

Trust only cocked his head at them before laying down. Poor dog was tired. It had been a long afternoon of running around and exploring and now he wanted nothing but a nap.  

Slowly, Clint and Deanna slipped out of the truck. They left the doors open. The one turkey was joined by a second and a smaller third.  

“Gun or bow?” Deanna asked, having snagged the bow and a few arrows on her way out. Clint had his own bow over his shoulder.  

“Bow. Gun would scare them even more if I miss.”

"You never miss. That's your thing." She chuckled as he crouched down, placing his arrow and began to draw the string back before looking at her and changing his mind.

“What?” She didn’t like how he was looking at her.  

“Get into position and take aim. You try and get it.” He whispered.  

“I’m not going to hit it.” She harshly whispered back. “And then they’ll all run and we won’t have turkey.”

“Have some faith in yourself, wont you?” She rolled her eyes at him, “Plus, if you miss, I’ll probably be able to shoot it before it gets away. Maybe.”

“See! Even you think I could miss.”  

“It’s just in case. I want turkey, dammit. I think you can do it.”

“If you want turkey, you shoot it.”  

“Or you can shoot it and we can have turkey.”  

“Jesus Christ.” She didn’t want to do this. Shooting a target was one thing and while she was getting better, she was no marksman like him. She’d only make a fool of herself in front of him. Still, she took position. “This is a shitty idea. Why do you want me to do it?”

“I’m testing you.” He hummed. There was something he had learned about people a long time ago. He’d taught more than a few people archery while in the circus and there were three types of students. The first type learned well and could hit a target easy.  

The second type… well, they learned but it was slow going. They thought too much. They worried too much and with a target, they had all the time in the world to worry. But give them a time limit and real world consequences, they all of a sudden managed to pull talent out of their ass. It was fascinating and frustrating to teach these type of people.

There was a third type- the simply untalented who would always just be okay. The question was, what type was she? Now was as good of a time to find out than any other. And the pressure of a turkey dinner was far better than nothing. In truth, he could easily take all three turkeys down should she miss her shot but that didn’t matter, she didn’t need to know that they were going to have a turkey or three without a doubt. It was that doubt, that pressure he was counting on, after all.  

Her form was better. She didn’t have a wrist guard on or any gear for that matter but she didn’t seem to notice after the initial worry. He watched as she nocked her arrow. Tension rolled of her in waves as her shoulders squared.

He watched as the world fell away around her. There was a focus in her form that wasn’t there when she was taking aim at the shed wall. Determination burned in her eyes and yet, he was sure she didn’t realize it.  

She stood, a woman frozen once she had drawn the string back. The arrow rested right above where her hand curled around the bow. The wind blew, carrying dust and grass across the road. It lifted and rustled through her brown waves but otherwise, she remained frozen. A deep breath was calmly pulled in through her nose. Her lips parted and he watched the slight fog of her breath slip between them. Careful, measured and controlled. As the last wisp of breath left her lungs, she released the arrow.

It sailed through the air, aim truer than he had honestly expected. There was a yelp as the string hit her wrist and she dropped the bow but he paid it no mind. He was far too focused on the arrow.  

It took only an instant but it was done. She had hit her mark with deadly precision he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t instant kill. The bird made it a few steps with the arrow lodged through it’s chest before it collapsed.  

The other two birds were quick to panic. Clint didn’t give them a chance to go far. In a blink of an eye, he sent arrows through the heads of both other turkeys. That would keep them fed for a while yet.

As the feathers settled, she stood motionless. “Did you get them?”

“Two of them.” Clint smiled.  

“But there are three...”  

“There are.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You hit your target.” Clint grabbed her hand and dragged her behind him.

“I hit it?” She asked only to have Clint grin at her. “Holy shit, I hit it!”  

She was stunned as he first showed her the two smaller turkeys that he had taken down. Each had an arrow through the skull. It was a clean shot and a quick kill. She nodded when he pointed out that those two he shot before he held up the third one. It was the largest of the three birds and the arrow was lodged in it’s chest, tip extending out of the other side.  

“I did that.”

“Yeah.” He set the bird aside and wrapped her up in his arms. “You did. You just needed a push.”

“How did I do that?” She mumbled into his shoulder even as he rocked her in his arms. “I can hardly hit the target on the barn.”

“You’re overthinking it when we practice. Trying too hard and getting caught up in your head, probably.” He held her out to him and there was an excitement that radiated off of him. He was like a giddy child. “Who would have guessed it? You’re a fucking natural shot!”  

“I did it. Holy shit, I did it.” His excitement was rubbing off on her and a smile slowly blossomed.

“You’re a natural!” Clint announced as he started dancing to music in his head, pulling her with him as he swayed and spun. In a smooth movement, he pulled her closer again and leaned down. Before she could think about it, his warm lips were on hers.

It was a sweet kiss, innocent and chaste. While they had flirted a lot over the last few weeks, what they had felt like friendship more often than not. This was the way with Clint Barton, it was hot and cold. He’d call her ‘Babe’ and offer intimate little touches during the days. He would hold her at night but that was more often than not as far as thing went.  

It wasn’t often that he kissed her. Yet, she lived for these moments. She knew what she needed to do. She needed to let him lead whatever it was they had but at the moment, she wasn’t thinking about that.

“I did it!” She was all but bouncing in his arms as he danced them around on the dusty road. They were feeding off each other’s excitement. “We can have turkey and dressing!”

“And sweet potatoes!” Clint added, just as excited as she was.  

“And sweet potatoes!” She agreed, throwing her arms up and around his neck.  

She pulled herself to him as the wind gusted around them. His arms wrapped tighter around her. There was an unspoken weight that was lifted off of them. It was something neither of them could explain yet having turkeys, knowing they would have something that could almost be a normal thanksgiving dinner was a great comfort.  

She kissed him again without thinking but he didn’t seem to mind. Maybe it was the excitement but it felt like they were the only ones left in the world. It felt like the Decimation and the families they used to have was a lifetime ago.  

“If we swing to the east before heading home, there’s a pretty decent sized town. Maybe we can find some cranberry sauce or marshmallow fluff?” Clint suggested as he finally pulled himself from her.

With turkeys stored in the cooler in the back, they were on the move again. It was a minor miracle when they stopped at a truck stop for fuel and Clint was able to get the generator behind the shop running. The pump accepted his credit card as if life was normal.  

Inside the shop, Deanna found the shop shelves fairly stocked. The cash register had been broken into and emptied but she didn’t pay that any mind. If someone thought they could benefit from money more than overpriced boxes of dressing and food, by all means.  

She took her time, loading up a hand basket with as much as she could carry and hauling it outside. They made slow and steady work loading as much food as they could from the store into the truck. Trust ended up sitting cramped on the back seat as the truck bed was taken over.

~~~~~<3

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Tag list is always open as is the ask box. 

[meiluka-enthusiast]

Curtain Call part 3

--Thursday, November 1st, 20XX--

--Luka--

All of us get up early to pack the next morning. Although we aren't leaving until after lunch, we need to make sure everything is shipshape.

Asuka and Hinata are renting us a bus for transportation. We have to pack canned or nonperishable foods to eat, since we won't be staying in any hotels and won't have enough money to always eat out.

I get my suitcase from its place in the closet and look at the packing list I have on my phone. Choosing outfits is easy, it's deciding what extra things to bring for entertainment that's hard.

Once I finish packing, I head downstairs for breakfast. The others are already there, except Meiko. For some reason I feel uncomfortable when she's not around. Maybe it's because I trust her more than the others. We grew up together, went through the same things.

I sit down at the table and run my fingers silently over my earrings. One memory of Meiko that I always recall is the first time we escaped from our captor. I remember running after her in the rain to an abandoned summer camp that she used to go to when it was in business. She stopped in front of one of the burnt-up cabins and I remember how much she cried. She always said that camp was the only place she felt safe.

I am torn away from my thoughts as I feel someone cover my eyes and chuckle. I can tell by his stronger voice who he is. "Good morning, Gakupo." I say as he takes his hands away. His eyes seem to smile in the morning sunlight coming through the window.

"Did you sleep well?" He sets a cup of coffee in front of me and takes a seat beside me.

"Yeah, I slept well. You?" I sip the coffee and close my eyes.

"Snug as a bug in a rug," he chuckles and then walks off into the kitchen.

As I look off into the hallway, I feel my face go red. Even in her old T-shirt and athletic shorts, Meiko is beautiful.

"Morning, everyone. Morning, Luka." She places a soft kiss on my cheek and then plops into the chair beside mine with a grin. "What's poppin'?"

I hear Miki laugh from the kitchen. "Meiko, nobody says that anymore!" Daina calls. I can't help but laugh along with them. Even Flower, who usually looks like she wants to kill us, is smiling.

Everyone seems to be dressed in a casual way, or in their own quirky sense of style. Flower is wearing a white blouse and grey shorts with suspenders from one of her songs. Dex is wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a band tee. Daina and Miki are matching, both wearing a teal top and white cutoff shorts. SeeU and Piko are wearing their usual outfits. Kaito is wearing a navy blue T-shirt and brown pants, Gakupo is wearing a gray shirt and jeans, and I'm wearing a pastel green tunic and black leggings.

Breakfast is quieter than normal, as everyone is thinking about what they're doing. Dex, Miki, Daina and Flower are staying home because apparently they get bad travel anxiety and would rather chill than tour. The rest of us are leaving this afternoon, excited.

As soon as we finish breakfast, Asuka and Hinata knock at the door. Meiko stands up and lets them in quickly.

"Good morning, everyone! Before we begin loading up, I have an important announcement!" Asuka calls. "Dex, Daina, Flower, Miki. You four are leaving Curtain Call."

The four of them grinned and stood. Dex cleared his throat. "Sorry guys, I just don't think we're cut out for music." He smirked a bit and led the other three out of the house.

I frowned. Dex seemed...mean. It was quite surprising, as he had always been at least okay to all of us. I guess he was tired of who we were...but, I mean, why quit being a Vocaloid? Then again, he was never too interested in singing.

If they had just been going to join the normal Vocaloids, I bet SeeU would have gone with them. The only reason she's still in Curtain Call is because Piko needs her. Part of me is disgusted at that, but I shouldn't be...because I feel the same way about Meiko as Piko does about SeeU.

"Luka! Quit staring into space like that!" SeeU giggled. I looked up, taken away from my thoughts, and sighed.

"May I be excused?" I spoke quietly, standing up and picking up my plate.

"Go ahead." Gakupo smiled at me. "I'll put your dishes in the sink."

I nodded and went out of there, into my small bedroom. I opened my suitcase and double-checked that I had everything I needed. Once I was sure, I zipped my suitcase and took out my backpack. All I needed was my cards, some books, and my coloring/sketch book.

It didn't take long to finish packing. I sighed and curled up on my bed, looking at the photo on the nightstand. It was a photo of me and Meiko when we were little, petting a kitten we'd found in the park.

There's a knock on the door and Asuka pokes her head in. "Hey, Luka. Everything okay?" She comes in and sits down by me.

I nod. "Everything's fine. I just needed to finish packing."

"Okay then. Can I load your stuff in the RV?"

"You rented an RV?"

"It belongs to Hinata's parents."

I shrug. "Go ahead. I'm coming out anyway." She nods and picks up my bags, carrying them out of the room. I follow a bit later, messing with the black-and-teal bracelet on my wrist.

"Everyone ready to go?" Hinata calls from the door to the garage.

"Ready!" I call. The four of us head outside and get in Asuka's van. Hinata will be driving his car behind us, with the RV in tow. Kaito will be going with him to help with navigation. The only one still missing is Meiko.

I turn back to the house just in time to see her exit. She looks beautiful. Her earrings were golden in the sun. She's dressed now, wearing a white tunic with black leggings and a rose pin in her hair.

As she locks the door, she grins at all of us and runs to join us by the van. Seating arrangement was done easily. Gakupo sat in front with Asuka, Piko and SeeU in the back, and Meiko sat in the middle with me.

As Asuka put the van in drive, I felt a wave of anxiety. I had people that I needed to see. Or did I?

No. I didn't. Not since a few years ago. And hopefully never again.

I never wanted to do anything like that. I never wanted Meiko or Gakupo to do it either.

I hate what we've been through. I hate it desperately. I know Meiko does too, because she'll talk to herself about it. She tends to talk to herself often, more so when she's mad. I feel bad for her, because she has such strong emotions and doesn't know how to express them. I don't know how to express myself either, so I just keep quiet.

I hear the others having a conversation about friendships. Talking about the benefits and drawbacks of things, or past friendships.

All of a sudden, Meiko turns and snaps at them. "Friendships are overrated and stupid. And even when you do have someone you really trust, when you really need them they'll fucking betray you."

Everyone turned to her. "Shut up Meiko, we were just talking. You didn't need to ruin it by being such a bitch." SeeU hissed.

"Fuck off, ASSHOLE," Meiko shot back.

"G-Guys, let's not fight..." Piko murmured.

"I agree with Piko," I say softly. It brings everyone back to silence.

-----

That night, I lie awake on the pullout couch in the RV. Meiko snores softly next to me.

I just can't sleep. Maybe I'm nervous about our first performance tomorrow...or maybe I'm scared our group will fall apart. I sigh and try to clear my mind, rolling over and turning my back to Meiko. I'm tired of being clingy and shy...weak.

Maybe I can be stronger, just maybe...

[duaneodavila]

Matthew Whitaker Applied To Be A Judge With A Ridiculous Collection Of Nonsense And Football

Former Tight End Matt Whitaker

Back in 2010, Pretending Attorney General Matthew Whitaker attempted to snag himself an Iowa judgeship. Specifically, Whitaker was aiming for the Iowa Supreme Court, presumably so he could do his part in blocking marriage equality, which at the time had just been authorized by a unanimous Iowa high court opinion. He even waxes philosophic at the end of his application about how the Court has “wandered beyond its constitutional authority” and cites John Roberts lying about how judges are just umpires.

The real story here though isn’t that a right-wing operative wanted to crash a gay-friendly state court, but that his application is so laughably bad. It’s just a complete mess. The good people over at American Bridge have uncovered Whitaker’s application to be considered for the Iowa Supreme Court and… wow. If you wondered why career DOJ personnel are so concerned about Whitaker wielding any significant measure of power in his new quasi-job, this application will set you straight.

5. State the periods of your military service, if any, including active duty, reserves or other status. Give the date, branch of service, your rank or rating and your present status.

I did not have the honor of serving in the United States Military and it is one of the greatest regrets in my life.

Thank you for your lip service.

The purpose of this question is to offer a little bit of affirmative action for veterans — an “all else equal” accommodation for those who gave their service. This chud feels so deeply the entitlement of a mediocre man that he can’t even stomach the idea that a veteran might have an advantage in this job and just needs to spout off that he’s basically “service adjacent” because he enjoys the Expendables and bitching about black people expressing opinions about police brutality.

And I never get these “oh, I wanted to and I regret it” conservatives. Like, some people aren’t physically cut out for it, but when a Power 5 Conference Tight End says this stuff… No. You don’t regret it because if you cared enough you could have absolutely done it. You just wanted to go to law school more and that’s cool, but don’t come at us with this chickenhawkshit. While there are undocumented migrants and gay folks and trans Americans enlisting in the Armed Forces and getting hassled by this administration you now serve, no one should have any patience for this preening.

As one might imagine, the bulk of the application focuses on the applicant’s legal experience. It asks for a rundown of positions held and clerkship information before including the classic “any other relevant particulars.” Seasoned applicants know this is the catch-all for that very, very short spiel about how you served as a mediator a ton while working at your last firm and that gave you insight into the adjudication process that isn’t immediately clear from your résumé or something.

But, you know, it’s a question that requires actually accomplishing something “particularly relevant” to answer. So instead, Hoss decides to treat the poor bureaucrat reading these applications to a rambling eight-paragraph biography — written in the third person for some f**king reason — about everything that’s happened to him since birth. It’s the Tristram Shandy of Suck.

Unsurprisingly, the fact that he played football plays a starring role. FOUR of the eight paragraphs mention football. For example:

Matt received an athletic scholarship from Coach Hayden Fry and the University of Iowa. At Iowa, Matt played in 35 consecutive games during his Sophomore, Junior and Senior years, letting all 3 years he played. Matt was a three-time academic all-Big Ten selection and an academic all-American his senior year. Matt played in two-post season bowl games including the 1991 Rose Bowl.

Weird flex in a judicial application but whatever.

And it doesn’t stop! When asked how his appointment would “enhance the court,” he gets right into it again:

As you can see from my resume, I graduated from undergraduate at Iowa in three and one half years while playing on the Iowa football team. My senior season of football was my first full year of law school and I already had completed my first year of coursework toward my MBA. As recent (sic) as this fall, I was practicing law full time and also teaching a business law class for the University of Iowa in their Executive MBA program. I would bring this strong Iowa work ethic to the Court.

He taught one class? As someone who has lived in Iowa, I find the idea that an adjunct gig represents a “strong Iowa work ethic” offensive.

By the way, this cannot be overstated: MATT WHITAKER HAD ALREADY SERVED AS U.S. ATTORNEY AT THIS POINT. This application is the very definition of why less is more. Just say, “Greetings, state judicial nominating folks… I was appointed by the president and confirmed by the Senate to represent the United States of America in federal court and now I want this job,” and there’s almost no way he doesn’t get fast-tracked. Instead, he goes on this Desperado jag that only makes him sound like he has no facility for discussing the legal profession. When asked to describe the character of his legal experience…

Overall, the character of my legal experience is broad and diverse. I have represented government, business and individuals in both litigation and transactions. This broad and diverse experience would be a tremendous asset for me with the Court’s unique position in the legal system.

“Unique” is one way to describe the court’s role in the legal system. This wouldn’t be an impressive application to serve as a judicial intern, let alone a judge. And it just never stops. When asked to describe three significant matters, he threw in an RV dealership breach of contract action he’s handled that “settled confidentially.” It ultimately resulted in $26,000 in damages. That’s the big case Whitaker chose to include. Forget “Acting Attorney General” this guy sounds like he’s only an Acting Attorney.

Have you ever held public office other than judicial office? If so, give details, including the office involved, whether elected or appointed, and the length of your service, giving dates.

I was appointed United States Attorney for the Southern District of Iowa on June 14, 2004 and served until November 24, 2009.

That’s an acceptable answer. It’s exactly the approach he needed to take with this whole application. Is that the end of his answer? Absolutely not.

As members of the Commission may know, my two immediate predecessors as the appointed United States Attorney for the Southern District of Iowa currently serve as judges…

Dude, play a little hard to get. Is this, mercifully, the end of his answer? Oh dear reader, you know all too well it’s not:

Also, two of my former colleagues as United States Attorneys have been appointed to their respective state’s Supreme Courts…

Jon Favreau’s character from Swingers thinks leaving this message is uncomfortable. It’s actually astounding he never says, “You know who else played football? BYRON MOTHERF**KIN’ WHITE. Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!”

And now he purports to be the nation’s top law enforcement authority. He’s already counseling the White House on policy stances he picked up off the back of a cereal box somewhere along the line. It’s the new American Dream, folks. If you apply yourself to social climbing in enough of a cloying, often embarrassing way, there’s no limit to the jobs you can illegally occupy.

By the way, did you know Whitaker played football?

(Full application on the next page.)

Joe Patrice is a senior editor at Above the Law and co-host of Thinking Like A Lawyer. Feel free to email any tips, questions, or comments. Follow him on Twitter if you’re interested in law, politics, and a healthy dose of college sports news.