Antonin Scalia and Stanley Kubrick are stuck in Museum Exhibit Malfunction and forced to have a deep conversation.

"This absurd tableau, trapped as we are amidst the detritus of modern 'art', is an affront to reason," Scalia boomed, gesturing with disdain at a pile of discarded tires.

Kubrick, eyes narrowed, replied, "Affront, perhaps, but also a reflection of man's inherent chaos, amplified and projected onto a canvas of self-deception."

"Nonsense, Stanley! The Constitution, like a well-crafted screenplay, provides structure and meaning, a bulwark against such relativistic drivel," Scalia retorted.

"But the Constitution, Justice, is interpreted, re-shot, if you will, by each generation, subject to the subjective lens of the director," Kubrick countered, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Scalia scoffed. "Originalism, my dear man, is the director's cut, untainted by the whims of fashion or the delusions of progressives!"

Kubrick paused, stroking his chin. "And yet, even the director's cut can be manipulated, re-contextualized, its meaning forever fluid in the viewer's mind."

"That's nihilism dressed up as intellectualism! Law, like good storytelling, must have inherent meaning, or it descends into anarchy!" Scalia thundered.

"Anarchy, Antonin, is merely a blank slate, a canvas upon which we project our deepest fears and desires, the ultimate cinematic experiment," Kubrick mused.

Scalia sighed, rubbing his temples. "Good heavens, Stanley, you're as maddeningly obtuse as a dissenting opinion in *Roe*!"

"And you, Justice, are as rigidly dogmatic as a HAL 9000 convinced of its own infallibility," Kubrick finished, a glint in his eye.