Q: Who is the intended audience of the Book?

A: This is a very hard book, intended principally for the philosophically, politically and intellectually curious. It is for jurisprudence fans, political scientists, politicians, lawyers, judges, sociologists, and certainly, philosophers. Above all, it is for the patient scholar. It is for those who have the eyes to see, the ears to hear, and the minds to contemplate. It is not for those who lack the patience to read it, nor for those who are reckless or hasty with ideas and generalizations; crucially, it is not for the illogical or emotional. It has been designed to be insufferable to such people, and thus by its very structure, it filters them out.

Q: Why was the book originally entitled The Kangaroo Court?

A: The title encapsulated the message of the book in shortest possible phrase. It at once posed the central question of the book and supplied the answer. Only with this title could one actually read the title and not need to read the book. What is a Kangaroo Court? A court which is unjust. Are any courts just? What is justice, anyhow? A Kangaroo Court is impossible if there is no such thing as justice, thus the title answers the question it raises: there is such a thing as justice, and this justice may be entirely divorced from legality and political forms. Thus, the title immediately makes two points, first that there is an absolute justice, and second, that justice is not the rule of the strongest or mere legality. Third, the title invites a critical question, namely, which court is being called a kangaroo court? Is it the United States Supreme Court? Or is it the court which speaks in the book? The court in the book often acts very unlike a court. On the other hand, much criticism is leveled at the United States Supreme Court. This is a constant tension in the book which is designed to keep the question as to true justice alive and inflamed throughout the work. The title invites the reader to take up this question in the most serious manner possible. Also, the aboriginal etymology of the word Kangaroo restates the central question of the book. Look it up. The title can also be seen as forming an example of harmonic constitutional analysis, being a blend of oligarchy and judicial power, a combination of functional and per-capita separations of power. So, those who think the former title was trite, self-deprecating or too whimsical have not used their minds enough, they must dig deeper.

Q: Why is the book written in the style of a legal opinion?

A: The format accomplishes two important objectives. First, it provides a dramatic vehicle which restates the points made in the text. The main themes of the book are depicted figuratively by the setting, characters, and organization of the case. Second, it provides a dialectical vehicle through which each issue can be raised, tested, and resolved, in favor of one party, the other party, or in a third way, as the court pleases. The parties to the case represent schools of political thought which can thus be vindicated, condemned or abandoned. The characters intermittently become the mouthpieces of various groups from sundry eras, thus the similarity, or even incompatibility, between such theories can be highlighted. The format also adds the human element back into the treatise, and this human realm is the natural environment for political questions. The antagonism and competition inherent in the legal case format also reflects a point made throughout the book, namely that competition permeates all aspects of life and justice.

Q: Why is this ‘judicial opinion’ unlike real judicial opinions? Why does the court allow the parties to interrupt its opinion with various objections, as would never happen in a real court opinion, and why does the court stray into highly philosophical and esoteric discussions, since no real court would do such? Courts don’t really write opinions like this. Isn’t this just a sham?

A: The question seems to be, isn’t this just a Kangaroo Court? Is the court behaving as a court should? Is the court obeying its own descriptions of the proper boundaries of judicial power? Isn’t it violating its own pronouncements even as it enunciates them? To shallow thinkers, the imperfections of the opinion will merely seem to be the mistakes of an author who doesn’t really know how courts act or write. Deeper thinkers will understand that these procedural defects are intentional devices designed to elicit questions and highlight the main points of the book, to revive and refine the central question as to what is the ideal system of justice. For those who dig deep, they will find in these defects an aquifer of ideas restating the issues which the prose maps out in more pedantic terms.

Q: Why is the language so archaic and stilted? Isn’t this an example of a writer who can’t write?

A: Like every aspect of the book, the vernacular was chosen with the utmost care. It is intended to make several points. First, it emphasizes the antiquity of the basic ideas upon which the theory of the book rests. Second, it implies that truth is timeless and not a mere artifact of contemporary times. Third, the language chosen is that of an era which most sympathetic to the book’s message. The era in which the ideas of capitalism, rationalism, utilitarianism, constitutionalism, and political liberty flourished used this permutation of the English language. It was the era of the founding of the United States and the decades thereafter. This grammar supplies a constant, blatant hint as to the final outcome of each issue and the overall case itself. Within one or two pages, the language itself betrays all the likely points to be made in the rest of the book. A philologist or historian might grasp this immediately, and thus, the language is yet another manner of making and restating the central points of the book. Some may say the language is old, but it is actually young, younger than current English, and it retains a certain candor and power lost to the language as it grew old, in the twenty-first century.

Q: Won’t the sales and popularity of the book suffer because of this archaic language?

A: Readability will suffer only among English speakers, and only among those of the current and subsequent few generations. Translations of the book into other languages will render the book modern in terms of the foreign languages, unless the translator intentionally antiquates the translation in order to simulate the effect I have sought. Moreover, no English speaker who reads this book in three hundred years will much care if the English is Nineteenth-century or Twentieth century dialect. They will both seem equally awkward, much as nobody cares today whether the older Latin of Cicero is awkward compared to the newer of Marcus Aurelius. To most, they are both just ancient Latin, and one day this will be just ancient English. Essentially, this question of popularity is strictly an issue for twenty-first century average American readers. They will perhaps be confused, which is acceptable, as they are not the primary audience. The true audience will have the intellectual stamina and sharpness to look into the language and extract the messages which it contains. The book will make less money, but there is money enough already; the book is a gift to mankind. Or perhaps a scolding. But it is not for money.

Q: Why does the book spend so much time right at the beginning with such seemingly unimportant and unrelated subjects as the nature of language and the absolute existence of things? This seems so boring and off the subject.

A: The resolution of these issues makes all the actual political questions fall neatly into place. Again, the outcome of the case is a foregone conclusion once the idea of relativism is refuted. These issues are the foundation to thought itself, and they solve more problems down the line than most people think. Once they are put out of the way, there is far less to argue about later. Many issues obtain a clearer focus, and several are eliminated altogether. Also, these issues are classically the first which need to be understood before any further thought can be undertaken. Rumor has it that the Plato’s Academy bore the sign ‘none shall enter but that have studied Geometry first.’ Likewise, the logical works of Aristotle are traditionally placed before his other writings. They are always studied first, because they are the tools of thought itself. It may be boring, but only to those who lack the stamina and desire to get to the bottom of the subject at hand. It may seem irrelevant, but only to the beginner. Also, these passages act as a crucial filter preventing unwanted readers from accessing the ideas of the book. Zealots, illogical, bigoted, and over-emotional people will put the book down rather than wade through such abstract and exacting sections. This is a great benefit, for once written, a book never stops speaking. The only defense against being twisted and mis-used by idiots is to write in such a way that idiots never read the book. If these sections bothered you, this is a message. If you didn’t make it through these sections, it is a stronger message; this political theory isn’t meant for you. You are not welcome.

Q: Why doesn’t the book address women’s issues and women’s rights?

A: The entire book is about women’s rights. The Petitioner is a woman, with whom and on whose behalf the court devises its entire political theory. It is with her concerns that the court is exclusively interested. The better question is what happened to male issues, and the implied answer is that these would be answered no differently than for women, for neither the court, nor Petitioner, nor respondent suggests that there is or should be a different justice for different sexes. Women’s rights turn out to be human rights.

Q: The Petitioner does not discuss human rights, but merely her own. How, then, can she represent all people?

A: Justice is depicted in classical art as Themis, a woman blindfolded and holding a scale. The statue of liberty in New York is a woman holding aloft a great torch. Here, justice is depicted as a girl who loved her brother. Liberty is a lady in many contexts. Justice for all comes from justice for the minority and the individual, especially the vulnerable, powerless, and oppressed. She is such a person. In this sense, the work is about the most powerful nation on earth trying to destroy lady justice.

Q: Why is the book unfinished? It ends in a colon.

A: The book is finished. The subject is unfinished.

Q: Why does Respondent argue essentially against himself when discussing Plato’s objection to war preparation? Is this a mistake by the author?

A: Nothing is accidental or a mistake. Find the hidden meaning in everything. The Respondent is learning, and has been learning throughout the case. Respondent is growing more, approaching subjects in more philosophical ways than before, willing to genuinely believe in some of the philosophical points it earlier denied so strenuously. It is more a philosopher now, whereas it was willing to say anything to win earlier. Respondent is more interested in truth here than its own innocence. It is seeking justice, perhaps for the first time in the case, not merely victory.

Q: The book speaks of the writings of Socrates, but he never wrote anything. Doesn’t this mean the author made a mistake?

A: Nothing is a mistake. Find the secret meaning everywhere. Who said this and why? Respondent said it. It shows that they are at once beginning to be interested and persuaded by ancient philosophy, and that they are still rank amateurs at it, whereas they totally disdained philosophy earlier.

Q: Why are some quotations actually widely separated parts of books, grafted together so as to appear to be a connected quote from the author? This takes words so out of context that one cannot trust them, and readers must have constant recourse to the original texts quoted in order to get an exact quotation.

A: That is why the quotes are often built that way. The more forcefully to make a point, and the more forcefully to constrain careful thinkers to refer the originals and read them in their entirety. There is also the constant question of the legitimacy of the court lingering in the background. Is it a Kangaroo Court? Does it know what it is talking about?

Q: Why is there a grammatical or usage mistake in Respondent’s request for leniency in the section regarding Harrington’s separation of legislative tasks? Did the author make a mistake?

A: Nothing is an accident. The Respondent shows their lack of knowledge and perhaps even sincerity by calling Aristotle a ‘theory’ instead of a person. But their plea, by mentioning Aristotle at all, shows a growing willingness to accept and condone ancient political theory, demonstrating the philosophical growth of Respondent thus far in the case. Earlier, they utterly despised Aristotle. Why is their growth important? It illustrates the point that the exercise engaged in by the Court is not idle but productive of actual reform and improvement in government. It is the principal punishment meted out to Respondent, namely to learn, which is the appropriate punishment for all ignorance.

Q: Why does the court take a whole page to discuss an aspect of Petitioner’s claim it deems irrelevant? The court does this by comparing Aristotle’s equal protection with Marx’s class-based jurisprudence, concluding that America’s jurisprudence is not what Marx termed a jurisprudence for the bourgeoisie class.

A: If it is in the book, then it is not irrelevant, regardless of what the court says. The court is ringing a bell and then piously claiming to have un-rung it, which is impossible. The court is, in this way, able to make a point which is not at issue in the case: several lessons are thereby made at once. 1. This may be a Kangaroo court. 2. It may be playing fast and loose with justice in this instance. 3. Marxism ought not to be used as a bogeyman to scare people into a conclusion, as in an argumentum ad communism, the argument that something is wrong simply because somehow similar to communism. 4. Marx was wrong that American jurisprudence is class-based, and so are the critical legal studies theorists.

Q: Why does the author believe naively in myths like Romulus and Remus’ founding of Rome? He writes like these are true, although nobody honestly believes in them anymore. Is he stupid?

A: Everything is there for a reason. Nothing is accidental. Did the author claim the myth was true or does the court, as a fictitious character do so? Why is a fictitious court willing to lend credence to a fictitious founding of Rome? Are they worried about undermining their own source of existence? Are they interested in the archeological truth, or scientific truth, or are they interested in the truth of the principle they are illustrating and willing therefore to use whatever illustration is apt and productive of knowledge? Why does the veracity of the myth not matter to the court? Why is it not challenged by Respondent? What is the author saying by leaving it unchallenged?

Q: The Author cites the Case United States v. Dred Scott. Everyone knows this was not the name of the case. It was Dred Scott v. Sandford. Why does the author make this mistake or lie?

A: The Dred Scott decision demonstrates by ironic reversal the point the court is making. Dred Scott was deemed not a person within the meaning of the constitution, and hence had no standing in court. Likewise, the court teases, the United States is not a ‘government’ within the meaning of the constitution and hence has no standing in court. It is a sharp ridicule of the Respondent since it reminds them of their former toleration and protection of slavery, but it is merely a jest since the court almost certainly does not condone the Dred Scott outcome, and would not seriously analogize with it. As for the change of the name Sandford to United States, this makes the point that a prosecutorial party to a case may be misstated, and it should upset those who realize it. If this upset you, then so should the misuse of the name United States. And if you did not see the deeper meaning of the misstatement, you must read more carefully before getting upset or assuming the author is wrong.

Q: What is the message implicit in Petitioner’s penalty requiring her to suggest a name for the Federal Government? Why does the Government have to pay for this?

A: This penalty touches on four ideas, first free speech, second, the non-relativity of names, third, the nature of punishment, and fourth, the irony of name-calling. The people must never be made to pay for their freedom of speech or rights of petition. Penalties which require speech or petition are no exception. Naming is absolute; the Petitioner must carve reality at the joints, so to speak, in order to Name the American Federal Government. This is a highly reflective exercise. It requires her to understand America first. Thus, the punishment is to learn, as Plato suggests. Also, on a somewhat more superficial level, there is the irony regarding name-calling. Is she going to name it or call it names? What does it deserve to be called, considering its treatment of her? Will she call it the Kangaroo State? What is she justified in calling it?

Q: Why does the author use the obtuse expression ‘the dawn of the twenty-first century casts its rosy fingers over yet another millennium…’? This seems like a desperate and bad attempt to be poetic.

A: This expression is from Homer, and Homeric scholars will greet it like an old friend. It remakes the point in the sentence: three thousand years have not changed the fact that there is no global government. The period of time demarcated by the rosy fingers expression is three-thousand years, insofar as Homer writes of events which took place just over one thousand B.C., give or take a hundred years or two. The phrase is a reward to those who are well read. If you thought this was mere poetic license, you are not as well read as you could be, nor are you as good a reader as you could be.

Q: Why does the court blast the U.N. for under-representing large nations and then cite as an example of Security Council injustice the power of the most populous nation on Earth, China?

A: It is an irony the court intentionally presents. This is the ultimate example of under-representing people: the most populous nation on Earth is a tyranny at present, or an oligarchy at least, and the voice of its people has no role in U.N. policy whatsoever.

Q: The court sometimes claims that it mentioned something earlier, like its citation of Sydney’s ‘the best nation is that which best prepares for war’, and Machiavelli’s ‘good laws are useless apart from good arms.’ In fact, these do not occur earlier in the text. Is this a mistake?

A: Nothing is a mistake. Find the meaning in everything. This suggests that the court may be familiar with Sydney because he appealed to it himself when he was sentenced to death, and Machiavelli, when he was jailed. Or perhaps the court has ruled on such issues before.

Q: When discussing whether the best state is that which best prepares for war, why does respondent withdraw its own objection and cite Craig in support of what it formerly denied?

A: Respondent is learning, and no longer looks to winning the case at all costs, but rather looks to the truth. They are still unable to think entirely for themselves, however, and hence cite Craig rather than doing their own thinking.

Q: The court fails to address religion in any meaningful way, though they almost launch into a theological investigation and are stopped by the litigants from proceeding. Does this mean the author is an atheist?

A: This failure of the court to address theology symbolizes the separation between church and state; this is a book about an ideal government, and ideal governments do not espouse religious doctrine. Therefore, the court does not broach the subject.

Q: When discussing the question “what is the good life”, the court analogizes life to ‘knife’. This seems like a petty rhyme and is annoying. Why does the author do this?

A: It is a good rhyme, for man is partly a being that intellectually cuts. His mind makes distinctions. This is his way. But he also mentally combines, or blends. To emphasize this duality of humanity, the court uses another example, the loom. A loom pairs or recombines things. Thus, the meaning of life is that man parts and pairs. This is actually the answer to the meaning of life, even though the court professes to pass over the question altogether in the next section. Taken as a whole, the answer to the meaning of life is given merely by asking the question, for asking the question is the meaning of life. The court cannot pass over this topic even if it tries, for it has already demonstrated the meaning of life by asking the question ‘what is justice?’ Like Sun Tsu, the court has won the battle before it arrives at the battlefield. It need not even fight the battle, and this is why the court passes over the question.

Q: Why does the author’s literary voice change from time to time? Does this mean he is unstable or amateur?

A: The voice changes in order to emphasize various points. For example, when discussing Gibbon’s characterization of the Christian constitution, the author’s voice slips into that of Gibbon. This is an unmistakable hint that the author agrees with Gibbon.

Q: Why is it relevant to point out that the Harmonic constitution reunites Aristotle’s twofold division of social justice into political and particular justice? This seems trivial.

A: This is pointed out not only because of the important implications the unity has for Aristotelian scholars, but also because the union itself solves the case of Antigone, which underlies the book, bringing together the lawful and the right, or just.

Q: There are so many instances where the author adopts definitions and makes points which are contradicted by the vast majority of people’s opinions. For instance, democracy is defined as the rule of all the people, but this is not what the vast majority mean by democracy. Why does the author not accede to the common meanings and argue about points currently being debated instead of being contrary and off the subject of contemporary inquiry?

A: Contemporary majority opinion is wrong, and contemporary political theory is largely off the subject. The author does not give a damn about the opinion of the masses, and even less the masses of specialists. This point is manifest in the use of the courtroom as a setting for the work. The court is the realm of the aristocratic rule of the few; it is not a democratic forum where the majority opinion holds sway. This point is reinforced throughout the work, especially in the sections regarding the nature of opinions compared to truth and the shortcomings of democracy. The opinion of the masses is irrelevant to truth, and the gravamen of public political discussion is the product of myopic specialists without a knowledge of the whole. Both are not worth respecting if one intends to discover and relate the truth regarding political philosophy.

Q: Why does the book misquote itself? Early in the book, the genius of Republics is said to revolve around the fact that that “without both consent and wisdom, there can be no enduring legitimate sovereignty in any political context.” Later, however, the book quotes this earlier passage, but gets it backwards, “without both wisdom and consent,…” Why must we readers endure such sloppiness?

A: The two ingredients of the quote are reversed, or flipped, in order to emphasize the fact that the same point has been derived from the opposite reasonings: in the discussion of the Republic, the point was made on the material plane of practical institutions, whereas in the later section it is derived from the metaphysical plane of theoretical legitimacy. As the physical and metaphysical proofs are opposite in some respect, but yet say the same thing, the quote needed to be made opposite in some respect and yet say the same thing. Thus, A and B is flipped and becomes B and A. It is not a mistaken quote. Do you still think its sloppy?

Q: Why does the author choose such mundane examples, (frustratingly and insultingly plain examples) as, “An individual will know far better than anyone else what value he or she personally attaches to a particular knife, these eyeglasses, or that lamp.” Why put adults through such an insulting thing as to read about knives, glasses and lamps?

A: The knife cuts reality at the joints. Eyeglasses let one ‘see’ in the metaphorical sense, so long as there is light, which is the lamp. This sentence means, each individual knows what value he attaches to wisdom. The whole section is about wisdom, so the examples chosen reflect that topic and represent the three things necessary to wisdom: the talent, the mind, and the truth.

Q: The author states that one “is” one’s effects, and then equates this with property. What is the point in teasing the readers with the multiple meanings of the word effect?

A: One’s identity is intrinsically rooted in both meanings of the word effect, namely the consequential results of action, and second, property. Therefore, the word game is intended not to confuse, but rather underscore the relation between property, control, and identity.

Q: Why does the court state that it will exercise some leniency on the Respondent because the doctrine of governmental immunity has been adopted? After all, the respondent never asked for or suggested such.

A: It is an issue raised by the court and the leniency is a sui-sponte gift. This underscores the role of the court as a seeker of justice, not merely a technocratic handler of pleadings. But it also raises troublesome questions regarding standing and the adversarial model of adjudication, which again hints at the possibility that this may be a kangaroo court.

Q: Did the Court attack or defend Christianity in the section regarding funerary ceremonies?

A: The court defended it by attacking it; the author attacked it by defending it. It was a scythian defense, which potentially opens the court up to a charge of injustice in light of its pronouncements regarding the morality of methods of waging war.

Q: The court states that a global government will arise only from a global threat. The book, on the other hand, seems clearly to be pressing for a global government based on its federal harmonic constitution. Does this not support an inference that the book is seeking to create a global threat?

A: No, unless the reader understands the ideas to be a threat. If the ideal of the federal harmonic constitution is so threatening that it impels states to confederate, they will best do so according to that very ideal. But this is no the type of threat to which the court refers. Moreover, the court need not create such a threat, since it believes the crisis is latent in the human condition and will arise naturally with time. It does not seek to create the threat, nor does it long for one. It merely establishes a manner of dealing successfully with it when it materializes.

Q: The book proposes the age-old question, ‘what is justice.’ But how, at last, does it answer that question?

A: The question is ‘what is justice.’ The book’s answer is: Right. That’s justice. This is because the question is a system, it implies the need to construct a mechanism, a constitution, for sifting and dealing with the issues of human political life. Constitutional justice is a system which thinks about justice, one which takes into account the various opinions regarding justice, according to the appropriate weight of each. It is a system of who rules, how they rule, and where. The harmonic constitution is the physical embodiment of a nation correctly thinking about justice. That is why the answer to the question ‘what is justice’ is ‘Indeed.’

Q: In Sophocles’ story, Antigone committed suicide. She did not appeal her predicament to anyone. How, then, is the book analogous to Antigone’s situation, since in it, Antigone appeals, wins, and as a result does not die?

A: There are several ways to look at this. First, Antigone appealed her death sentence to god in Sophocles’ play, to a higher authority, truth itself. In this sense, her appeal in the Kangaroo Court is similar. Second, Antigone probably is dead in the Kangaroo Court. The Book is a present tense recount of a past case. Third, Antigone was rendered immortal by Sophocles’ play, so in at least one sense she did not lose or die in his play. Fifth, Sophocles’ play and America On Trial are works of imaginary fiction, about imaginary characters, which not being real, by definition cannot either live or die, regardless of what is done with them on paper. There are many other ways besides these to show the unity of meaning behind the apparent death on the one hand and the continued life on the other.

Q: If the harmonic constitution can be called cubic, why not do so instead of using the strange term harmonic?

A: It calls forth the idea more precisely than would references to cubic, as this latter term is one of spatial extension whereas harmonic is one of interrelationship. We do not avoid the term cubic merely because the six basic constitutions, the three pure and three corrupt, equal the number six, the number of man, and the number of ‘the beast’ according to the Christians. Were we to call the constitution cubic, six parts made into a cube, 63, this would be 666, and subject to unwarranted criticism from ecclesiastical circles. But this is actually immaterial.

Q: Why use the device of dramatic depiction in an era of free speech? Ancients often used esoteric writings and dramatic settings to conceal dangerous points of view from censors yet permit their true audience to receive their message. We have no censors in our society today. Why not, then, just write a treatise, stating directly what is here hidden and woven into the riddles and folds of a fictitious court case?

A: Two reasons. First, as said above, these ideas are not for all audiences. The dramatic devices provide a filter which shuts out readers who are not ready for these ideas. Second, the dramatic and esoteric elements will help the work to survive a future age of censorship and to penetrate regions where censorship yet remains. It is in such times and conditions that the message of this work is most needed. They need the esoteric element more than free peoples need naked clarity. The greater good is served in this way. Moreover, the use of esoteric elements could imply that an age of censorship indeed exists in some form already, or that it might be impending. It also exercises and empowers the mind, augmenting national power and the efficacy of the democratic element of whatever peoples read this book.

Q: What is the purpose of the strange jurisdictional test, requiring consent to five logical propositions?

A: The court cannot discuss questions of justice without the consent of the parties to the principles of logic. The court is an organ of truth-finding. For this reason, logic is the sole foundation of the court’s jurisdiction. It is the requirement for all truth, and hence, the requirement for justice. Legend recites that Plato’s Academy bore an entrance plaque that read, “Let no one unversed in Geometry come under my roof.” This is that threshold. This is the door beyond which justice may be found. Moreover, the jurisdiction of the court is twofold, requiring consent, and logic, i.e. rationality and wisdom. This mirrors the twin pillars of ancient and modern political legitimacy, the former based on wisdom, the latter, on consent. As the harmonic constitution unites these two forms of legitimacy, the jurisdictional test of the Court symbolizes this unity, a unity requisite for justice. There must be both consent and wisdom.

Q: The Court in the book often seems guilty of breaching the rules it advocates. It would especially seem to be usurping some kind of legislative power. What does this mean or is it a mistake the author makes?

A: The incongruity between the court’s admonitions, teachings and doings highlights several key points made in the book. First, it reiterates the basic lesson of human nature, that humans are prone to error and corruption, even the wisest. Second, it suggests a lack of proper separation of powers operating on the court. It should raise the question as to why the court is able to act this way. Is there no Kangaroo Legislature and Executive somewhere? No offsetting power to check their insolence? The crucial role of the separation of powers is thereby underlined by the court’s loose conduct. Finally, as persons, the court’s behavior dramatizes the difference between the rule of law and that of men.

Q: The court asserts that “the definition of the whole can be manipulated so as to clothe adjudications in legislative costume, but such is trickery, and the manipulative parties XE "Political Parties" XE "Parties, Political" will not be so easily able to redefine the past as to make it appear to be the future, or describe the future so as to deceive people into thinking it the past.” But the court seems to be very legislative throughout the case. How can this contradiction be?

A: The court engages in just such trickery. It redefines the past to make it appear to be the future. This is also hinted at by the tense of grammar used to cite and quote thinkers of the past, and also hinted at in the setting of the case, a present publication of a past matter, the past matter being written in present tense, as if a real-time narrative rather than a report or recapitulation. But this may not be trickery after all, since jumbling the time frame does not eliminate temporal existence, but rather stretches it out, making the point that the ideas are timeless, that principles of justice are timeless, and the court is citing truth, not making law. Thus, the court is not engaging in trickery after all, but rather reminding cleverly that law is not justice, power is not justice, that truth is not opinion, that truth is tense-less.

Q: What is the hidden symbolism in the expression used early in the book, “The search [for justice] would be quick indeed if one were able to opine that justice was a purple sheet and be right XE "Right, The" by virtue XE "Virtue" of the fact that it is a purple sheet for him.”

A: This is a hint that justice requires freedom, liberty, and a retreat from monarchy and the rule of man. Purple is the color that conveys the hint. Purple is the traditional color of royalty. Kings, Consuls, and Emperors wore purple, the expensive Phoenician purple. In Rome, ‘the purple’ meant the crown, or the office of Emperor. Plato makes a similar symbolic point in the Republic when discussing dying fabrics such that the color stays fast, the purple stays in. There it is a message about sovereignty. Here it is about tyranny.

Q: Why does the author choose Greek drama as the underlying factual structure of the case? Didn’t Plato criticize the poets and playwrights? Why does the author pay them such a compliment by using Antigone? Why not a Platonic story?

A: The form of Sophocles’ dramas underscores the separation of powers theme in the book. In Sophocles’ plays, there is a protagonist, he is the monarchic element; then there are the lesser characters, they are the aristocratic element: and finally there is the chorus, the democratic element. The Greek drama thus analogizes the mixed constitution and is therefore the proper format to convey a political theory highlighting the separation of powers. It also highlights the fractal essence of ideal politics; a political drama built of smaller political dramas. Thus the drama of the court, Petitioner, respondent, and amicii is made up of the dramas of Antigone of Plato. The Republic and Antigone are like member-states in the fractal federation of the Kangaroo Court. Moreover, they are elucidated with many myths from ancient history. Each one yet a smaller level of the drama fractal. The myth of the Horatii, of Romulus, these are dramas within dramas within a drama. This is why Greek drama had to be the format.

Q: Isn’t there a biological reason for originally naming the Book the Kangaroo Court?

A: Yes, the Kangaroo carries her young in a pouch. In this sense, the court is a creative agent nurturing the future of its children. The nurturing court. In the best Platonic sense, it does not truly penalize, but rather it raises, it educates, which is the appropriate penalty for all who have been proven not to know.

Q: Why does the Author single out Heisenberg for criticism when there are so many other greater scientists?

A: It is not only his uncertainty principle, but the relation between his relativistic science and his idealistic support of Nazism, that the court is criticizing by singling him out. He organized Hitler’s atomic bomb project. The court thinks it necessary to highlight in this way the ultimate connection between relativism and political slavery; a Nazi scientist who came up with the uncertainty principle and tried to give Hitler atomic weaponry. The court is even more interested in showing this relativism in the sciences, especially the Nazi sciences. Were goodness relative, Nazism could not be bad, nor could science in the service of Nazism. Singling out Heisenberg accomplishes a second purpose, as well. It shows that science is highly political, not a-moral, as the court will go on to discuss. This section thus pre-states the conclusions in the next several chapters. A deep reader will know before reading the next chapters what the court’s opinion will and must be regarding the supposedly amoral characterization of the sciences. The section also esoterically resolves in advance many points about democracy, equality, economics and social organization which are made explicitly later in the book. Only criticizing this particular scientist makes all these points on all these levels.

Q: The book contains politics, economics, philosophy, theoretical physics, fractal geometry, and ancient history. Certainly, there are only a few persons in the world who can understand all this. What is the point in writing a book which only a handful of people in the world can even understand?

A: Such a book is like the Arthurian myth of the sword in the stone. It is not for everyone to draw the sword, only the ones chosen for power: the leaders who have sufficient character and responsibility, those with the requisite wisdom. All others will fail by design. They will avoid the sword, or tug at it in vain from greed or lust for power. Those unworthy persons who dive into this book in order to advance their lust for power will be unable to grasp its message, by design. They will be unable to draw the sword from the stone.

Q: The book constantly whispers and reminds of Cervantes’ Don Quixote. Why and how does it do so?

A: This connection is one of the most prominent and esoteric in the book. First, there is the original title. When in prison, Cervantes was subjected to a kangaroo court of fellow prisoners who decided the merit of his book. This is a literary parallel. It is also an explicit intersection between Plato’s allegory of the cave and this book’s posture in contemporary society. As was Cervantes’, this book will be judged largely by unworthy and incompetent people. This revives the question as to who is the Kangaroo Court. The author is hinting strongly that it may be the readers themselves. Second, there is this book’s impossible search for the ideal of justice, exactly Don Quixote’s quest, complete with its conservative antiquarianism and near-lunatic suggestions. Third, the book features a star-crossed weakling taking on an impossible goal; Petitioner on death row tries to defeat and restructure the United States of America. Respondent is portrayed as a windmill, a system. Petitioner as the jouster. The court says time and again that justice is a matter of system, and justice is the interplay of the individual and the system, the interplay between the jouster and the windmill. Respondent windmill is a monster, but actually not a monster, rather an intricate and productive machine perhaps in need of repair. But it must be seen as a monster in order for the ideal of justice to become clear and attainable. The court is another Quixote, striving to attain an impossible ideal, a Utopia, and it is itself a dream, just an imaginary court. The author is thus walking reverently in Cervantes’ footsteps. They both made a similar literary voyage to the same destination. Finally, there is the format of the book. It is fiction. A dream. Without a guiding dream, we die. This is why the book could not have adequately been written as a treatise or textbook. If it had been, then it would not be a dream. There would be no dream, and the search for justice would be dead. All of this consciously echoes Cervantes.

Q: The author makes a mistake when he refers to a Confederate Republic of Germany. No such state has ever existed.

A: Really? Didn’t it? Consider the argument it makes to the court. Did such a Germany ever exist? Nazi Germany did, but the court perhaps considers them unmentionable. Or is it that the court is hinting that the current German regime shares some attributes with this unmentionable state? After all, the fictitious Germany is an ally of respondent and is interested in racist eugenics like the Nazis. Is it a little of both? Such reasoning should lead the reader to realize that the author shows what gene manipulation could be by showing what present day Germany could be. The author introduces an imaginary contemporary Germany by hinting at what Germany tried to be in the past. By merging the past and present Germanys into a new hybrid, the author has performed by analogy the same kind of gene manipulation at issue, making his point over again by subtle symbolism.

Q: Why does the author begin each section with the word ‘That’? It sounds so archaic.

A: It is because each section is a proposition. Implied before each ‘that’ is a qualifier, as is ‘We are now going to opine that…’ But it could be any qualifier, and the author is silent on this. It could be ‘It is true that…’ or ‘It could be argued that…’ In this manner the author adheres to the idea expressed in the book that truth is not opinion, and the sections emerge as more intellectually provocative explorations than political sermon.

Q: Why does the author stoop to making a sex joke in the section on sex as a political subject?

A: The author intends to supply a hidden message that sexual theory is part of constitutional theory, and that where federations are concerned, and families too, size does matter. So ‘enormous size’ jokes are apropos.

Q: Why does the Author include a petty trivia test at the end of the book? Many of the questions seem rote and unimportant.

A: The test is included to prove a point: not even the author passes this little test. Teachers who use this test, or similar tests, are idiots.

Q: What is the ridiculous blues music section about and why does the author bother to make such an inane point?

A: The court cannot directly address the issue of black slavery since it is not part of the Petitioner’s claims. But the court raises its ghost, its horrible legacy, in this manner. It is a hint about the past injustice of Respondent’s system, though such is not strictly at issue in the case. The author is also making an important point about blues music. Some readers will see only this surface point. Others will understand the deeper indictment of black slavery in the context of the Court’s analysis of justice.

Q: Does the court represent the author’s opinion?

A: The book represents the author’s unfinished argument with himself over the issues it addresses. No character represents the author.

Q: Why is the Petitioner’s real name, Antigone, not used in the book?

A: Safeguarding the popular element requires eliminating undue concentrations of political goodwill in aristocratic family names. What does this suggest about her political activities prior to arrest?

Q: Why are there so many errors and typos in the book?

A: The author is an individual; there was no editor or peer review. The entire project was the product of one person. The typos thus exemplify the major theme of the book, namely that un-separated powers are inept. There were no checks and balances employed in the effort, and it is therefore filled with typos by design.

Q: Does Petitioner’s victory mean that the people, the ‘democratic element,’ wins the case?

A: No. Petitioner is not of the people exclusively. She is an aristocrat in that she is part of a powerful circle of those influencing the state. She is part of the monarchic element in that she is of the Executive’s family, and she is part of the people in that she is not part of the government itself. She is a hybrid, a mixture, representing the elements of the harmonic constitution. The harmonic constitution wins the case, at least at this level.

Q: Why does the United States not appeal the judgment in this case?

A: The Respondent does not appeal because it would be impossible. There is no appeal beyond logic. This is truly the highest court. Instead, they challenge the court within the framework of logic by bringing a new action against the court based on the court’s own ideals.

Q: In the section regarding Holocaust denial and illegal ideas, the book cites Descartes, but no citation is given. Why is this omitted?

A: Descartes is teased. Descartes “isn’t.” According to Descartes’ own maxim, the court needn’t concede his existence, and it doesn’t.

Q: In the section regarding the opposition of legislation and adjudication, why does the court get the corrective matter correct but not the legislative? Is this the author’s carelessness?

A: The court gets legislation wrong because it is a court and intrinsically cannot fully understand legislation. This is a symbolic way to underscore what the court has been saying. It shows a deeper level of logical undercurrent in the book.

Q: In the context of Employment regulations, the court blasts what it calls oppressive guilds and licensing schemes. How can the court argue that these be entirely dispensed with?

A: This raises a question symbolically: Who licensed this court? Do its judges have to be members of some guild or bar? A full renunciation of guilds would render courts even more unjust than otherwise and undermine their legitimacy. Therefore, the court carefully restricts its treatment of the matter to capitalism, but on the symbolic plane, the author shows that moderation is required in this regard. The Respondent is invited to raise just this objection in due time. If they do, they will be admitting defeat in many other arguments they have advanced in the case thus far. The court has thus laid a trap for Respondent.

Q: The court recites the assassinations of Kings Romulus and Numa while lauding the Roman monarchy as ‘more or less orderly’, as if assassination is acceptable to the rule of law. How can the court take this stance? Does the court like assassination?

A: Assassination of Kings is fine with the court, as it tends to promote the rule of law. They have already clarified their disdain for overly monarchic systems. Here, they praise what little rule of law existed in early Rome, and yet silently applaud the murder of even Rome’s good kings. The court already announced that it thinks all kings should be assassinated. It cites Diderot’s maxim, that “Mankind will never be free until the last king is strangled in the entrails of the last priest. Tyrannicide is precisely what the Court is promoting when it advocates excellence within the rule of man. As usual, the court’s most bold and direct point of view is found in the dramatic and esoteric layers of the book. On the surface, the text advocates only skillful corruption. In the deeper, esoteric, layers of the passage, the court is encouraging Tyrannicide.