If a jurisdiction falls in an empty theater and no one sees it, did the jurisdiction fall?

That is, what’s it matter if I construct constitutional crises whereby the jurisdiction dies if no one notices? Jurisdictions are legal constructs. They exist inside the mind. Fax machines and walkie talkies and letterhead do not a jurisdiction make; I know plenty of organizations with those things and those organizations are not jurisdictions. So the mere possession of the tools common to jurisdictions does not confer jurisdiction upon an organization.

And all earthly jurisdictions in the history of mankind have died. No one claims that jurisdictions are immortal. Show me one instance of an immortal jurisdiction. So the habitual enjoyment of jurisdiction is not, itself, a defense in the assertion of it because the presumption that an entity continues to possess jurisdiction implies that the jurisdiction will be alive tomorrow merely because it is alive today. That is the definition of immortality, which we’ve agreed is a quality inapplicable to earthly jurisdictions, as evidenced by the lack of a single instance of it in all of human history. Therefore, the jurist must always remain mindful that a jurisdiction may cease to exist at any given moment. Jurisdiction is born, contested, and resolved anew at each legal instant. And that is why jurisdiction is not wisely assumed. And since legal systems definitionally aspire to perfect rationality, like a computer, that means that jurisdiction cannot be assumed. Jurisdiction is in an unknown state which must be verified each time an operation is to be performed using that jurisdiction.

No one here in my theater would argue with a straight face that any person aspiring to even the barest modicum of decency would feel obligated to countenance the kook utterances of the entity seated at Washington. That is the very definition of lacking jurisdiction. That’s the litmus test. If decent, law-abiding people laugh at you when you try to speak, that means that you lack jurisdiction. Birds of a feather flock together. A man is judged by the company he keeps. So if that man would not tolerate an association lest his reputation suffer an injury, that means that the entity lacks jurisdiction. How could the entity claim the power to command when no decent person would be seen in public acquiescing to those commands? When a moral injury occurs merely by countenancing an utterance, that means, by definition, that the utterance cannot even theoretically constitute a law. And only jurisdictions have laws. So no matter how you slice it, the entity seated at Washington is not a jurisdiction. It is an assemblage of people using property abandoned in place.

The entity once known as the United States government is dead. I killed it. All I had to do was to gather my evidence and present my case before a jury. It was a slam dunk.

But the one thing I did not yet have was a full theater. If you kill a jurisdiction and no one sees it, did it die?

And that is why I needed my show to become part of the legal record. I used that entity’s own unlawful surveillance apparatus to kill it. And that is why you are here in my theater. My target audience are here because I required their presence at the murder of the century. My theater is a murder scene. Strictly speaking, I suppose the action would be an act of philanthropy, a mercy killing, an instance of justifiable regicide. But “My theater is a murder scene” makes for better copy on the movie poster.

After all the outrages visited upon me by that heap of trash over the past decade, I cannot even convey to you in words the pleasure I took in pushing an ice pick into that idiot jurisdiction’s head right here in front of you. I walked right up to that outrage, that bully, that murderous, raping, torturing psychopath and I pressed the point of that pick to its temple and with the heel of my hand I inexorably pushed it in.

It was fun. And I hope you enjoyed the show. I specialize in crowd pleasers. I hope you fully appreciate what you’ve witnessed over the past five years. It’s like accidentally seeing Jimi Hendrix play at Woodstock. You picked the right show to sit in on.

And I would very much like it if you people would start buying your tickets so that I can proceed to the next stage of my career. No one alleges that my act would play in television or film. So the ticket-based revenue model is the only model that works. That is why you must buy your tickets. There simply are no other options available to me.

And yes, I well understand what I have wrought. The collapse of the United States government will eclipse by orders of magnitude that of the Soviet Union. It’ll be messy. But it had to be done. You have no idea to what ends the owners of that command jurisdiction intended to put it.

Since I consider it immoral to destroy a thing without providing a replacement of equal or greater value, you should know that I consider it my moral obligation to clean up the mess. You break it, you buy it.

That may sound audacious to you, but audacity is my middle name. And no one ever got anywhere by thinking small. So I will create a new federal jurisdiction for you, one that is the model of justice and benevolence that this world so needs.

And now I know what that second book in the adventure series is about. I will create a jurisdiction for you, employing the moral authority assembled within that competing legal construct, my principality, United Sovereigns of America.

Legal constructs exist inside the mind. Why should that construct we’ve fashioned together here in my theater not manifest itself physically?

Let’s call it the audience participation part of the show.


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