Clarence Thomas Finally Decides To Just Say The Quiet Part Out Loud, Announces He’s Starting An OnlyFans For Lobbyists
WASHINGTON, D.C. — In a move that shocked absolutely no one who has been paying even a modicum of attention to the highest court in the land, Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas announced today that he is officially launching a premium subscription service. But don’t worry, it’s not for those tacky, low-rent photos of feet or whatever the kids are into these days. No, this is a bespoke, high-end content platform specifically designed for billionaires, Republican mega-donors, and anyone who has ever paid for a private jet ride to a yacht party in the South Pacific.
“I’ve been doing this for free for decades, and frankly, I’m tired of the hustle,” Thomas said in a press release that was definitely not written by a PR firm paid for by Harlan Crow. “The American people deserve transparency. And by transparency, I mean I deserve a direct, monetized pipeline to the people who are literally buying my rulings. Let’s call it... ‘Justice for a Price, Volume 2: Now With More Crypto.’”
The new service, cheekily titled “Thomas’s Treasures,” promises exclusive, unfiltered access to the Justice’s thoughts on everything from the legality of insider trading (spoiler: he thinks it’s fine if you’re a friend of the court) to his hot takes on whether the Constitution technically allows you to accept a free RV. Subscribers can choose from three tiers.
The first tier, “The Amicus Brief,” costs a cool $50,000 a year and gets you a weekly newsletter where Thomas explains why your tax loophole is actually a sacred founding principle. The second tier, “The Ginni Special,” is a premium package for $500,000 that includes a signed copy of his wife’s Jan 6 text messages (just kidding, those were deleted, but he’ll send you a handwritten apology from a hotel in Indonesia). The top tier, “The Crow’s Nest,” is a completely undisclosed amount that grants you a direct line to Thomas’s chambers, a free trip to his next secret luxury vacation, and the legal right to call him “Clarence” while you’re both wearing bathrobes on a superyacht.
“Honestly, I don’t see the issue,” Thomas said, fielding questions from a reporter he definitely accepted a free Rolex from. “The Framers intended for the Supreme Court to be a branch of government that is completely above reproach, but they also didn’t explicitly say I couldn’t monetize my influence in a subscription-based model. Checkmate, libs.”
Legal ethics experts, a group that has been reduced to a collective puddle of tears and screaming over the past six years, were predictably apoplectic. “This is it. This is the end of the road,” said Professor Elaine Hartley of the University of Chicago. “We’ve had the secret gifts, the failure to recuse himself from cases involving his wife’s political activism, the literal billionaires buying his vote one vacation at a time. But a subscription service? That’s just... it’s so gauche. At least have the decency to pretend you’re not a corrupt hack. He’s literally turning his robe into a cash register. I’m not even mad. I’m impressed by the sheer audacity.”
The internet, predictably, had a field day. The announcement was met with a tidal wave of memes, including one where Thomas’s face is photoshopped onto a “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” poster with the tagline “Honey, I Shrunk My Integrity.” Another viral post featured a screenshot of the Supreme Court’s official ethics code (which is famously non-binding) with a red circle around the word “none.” Reddit’s r/wallstreetbets even started a thread about shorting the dollar because “if this guy can sell his influence, the market is officially a joke.”
But Thomas isn’t just stopping at subscriptions. In a shocking twist that feels like a fever dream, he also announced a partnership with the NFT marketplace OpenSea. He’s releasing a limited series of digital tokens called “Clarence’s Clauses.” Each NFT is a poorly photoshopped image of him holding a copy of the Constitution with a speech bubble that says “This is fine.” The most expensive one, titled “The Dobbs Decision: A Retrospective,” is literally just a JPEG of a dumpster fire. It sold out in 12 seconds.
“This is the free market at work,” Thomas argued, ignoring the fact that the free market is supposed to be regulated by the very body he’s sitting on. “I am providing a service. If you want my legal opinion on whether your company can pollute a river, you used to have to bribe me with a secret trip to a mountain retreat. Now you can just click ‘subscribe’ and get the same result without the awkward small talk. It’s efficiency, people.”
Of course, the ethical implications are staggering. Legal scholars are pointing out that this is an even more explicit violation of the 1978 Ethics in Government Act than anything he’s done before. But Thomas, who has the skin of a rhinoceros and the moral compass of a crashed GPS, doesn’t seem to care. “I’m a Supreme Court Justice. I’m appointed for life. What are they going to do, impeach me? For having a side hustle? Please. The only way I’m leaving this bench is if they find a dead body in my RV, and even then, I’d probably rule that the body was technically a ‘gift’ and therefore tax-exempt.”
As of press time, the Supreme Court’s official press secretary issued a statement saying, “The Chief Justice has no comment, but he did ask if he could get a referral code for the ‘Crow’s Nest’ tier.”
Final Thoughts
After decades of watching Clarence Thomas operate from the bench, it’s clear that his jurisprudence is less about constitutional originalism and more about a deeply personal, almost visceral, reaction to the institutions he believes have failed him. His silence during oral arguments isn’t judicial restraint; it’s a form of quiet defiance, a refusal to engage with a legal establishment he has long held in contempt. In the end, Thomas may be remembered less for the doctrines he shaped and more for how he weaponized a lifetime appointment to settle old scores against a world he felt never truly welcomed him.