Antonin Scalia and Sherlock Holmes are stuck in Cabin in a Snowstorm and forced to have a deep conversation.

"The blizzard, Holmes, is a stark reminder that nature's laws are immutable, unlike some justices' interpretations of them," Scalia boomed, adjusting his spectacles.

"Indeed, Scalia, the storm, like a legal precedent, may appear chaotic, but follows a predictable pattern if one observes closely," Holmes replied, puffing his pipe.

"Predictable, you say? Bah! Some argue the Constitution is a living document, adapting to unpredictable whims," Scalia scoffed.

"Living, perhaps, but its bones, the foundational principles, remain unyielding, much like the skeletal structure beneath a living organism," Holmes countered, his eyes gleaming.

"Precisely! Originalism, Holmes, is the bedrock against judicial activism, a bulwark against the tempest of subjective interpretation!" Scalia declared, pounding his fist on the table.

"Yet, even bedrock can be eroded, Scalia, by persistent, subtle forces; one must be vigilant against the slow creep of unintended consequences," Holmes mused.

"Consequences be damned! Intent matters! The Founders' intent, not some modern sociological fancy!" Scalia retorted, his voice rising.

"But intent, Scalia, can be obscured by the mists of time, necessitating a careful examination of context, circumstance, and available evidence," Holmes observed, calmly.

"Evidence, shmevidence! The text is the law! Clear and unambiguous, if one is willing to see it without the fog of ideology," Scalia thundered.

"Ah, Scalia, but even the clearest text can be interpreted in a multitude of ways, depending on the observer's preconceived notions, a human flaw, I'm afraid, quite impossible to legislate away."