The charismatic yet visionless enigma left behind his ultimate potion: a supreme court aptly named Concoct. Its first ruling? That the king should not only rule but live forever.
When the throne passed to the meticulous and methodical one, it became clear—this inherited Concoct was a poisoned chalice. Within 2.8 years, confusion reigned as jurisprudence was discarded and earlier rulings were overturned without shame.
One ruling upheld blatant illegality, citing “time-lapse” as an excuse. Another, in the case of Mal Angst’s qualifications, flip-flopped spectacularly. The burden of proof was bizarrely placed on individuals already double-vetted by institutions too incompetent to distinguish electoral from examination matters.
The kingdom endured legally impoverished judgments, devoid of intellect, delivered in cryptic statements like
“We find merit in the first preliminary issue. Given our position, the second issue falls away.”
Even the most ordinary subjects questioned how justice could be sustained with such warped logic.
As blunders piled up, both 1.8 and 2.8 camps realized the bitter truth—we had the wrong Concoct! Yet the real dilemma remained: how to get a new Concoct without compromising judicial independence?
Some proposed a Direct People’s Property (DPP) model, using vox pops and Peel Latto—half black, half white—while others suggested advertising in Wines of the Kingdom and Daily Snail for fresh, untainted judges.
But here’s the real question: If a poisoned concoction expires, does it lose its poison? And if we brew a new one, will it dance to the tune of its concocter? Nipano tuli!
When the throne passed to the meticulous and methodical one, it became clear—this inherited Concoct was a poisoned chalice. Within 2.8 years, confusion reigned as jurisprudence was discarded and earlier rulings were overturned without shame.
One ruling upheld blatant illegality, citing “time-lapse” as an excuse. Another, in the case of Mal Angst’s qualifications, flip-flopped spectacularly. The burden of proof was bizarrely placed on individuals already double-vetted by institutions too incompetent to distinguish electoral from examination matters.
The kingdom endured legally impoverished judgments, devoid of intellect, delivered in cryptic statements like
“We find merit in the first preliminary issue. Given our position, the second issue falls away.”
Even the most ordinary subjects questioned how justice could be sustained with such warped logic.
As blunders piled up, both 1.8 and 2.8 camps realized the bitter truth—we had the wrong Concoct! Yet the real dilemma remained: how to get a new Concoct without compromising judicial independence?
Some proposed a Direct People’s Property (DPP) model, using vox pops and Peel Latto—half black, half white—while others suggested advertising in Wines of the Kingdom and Daily Snail for fresh, untainted judges.
But here’s the real question: If a poisoned concoction expires, does it lose its poison? And if we brew a new one, will it dance to the tune of its concocter? Nipano tuli!
