Scalia or Breyer?

Dahlia Lithwick reminds me how effortlessly she brings legal and constitutional writing to vivid, insightful life:

When you're sitting close enough to see that Supreme Court justices actually wear socks, their differences are stark. From the moment he takes the stage, Justice Breyer looks outward. He shifts in his seat constantly to catch the eye of the moderator, ABC's Jan Crawford Greenburg, and then to make eye contact with individual audience members. When Scalia speaks, Breyer nods and bobs. Justice Scalia turns inward, folding up his arms and gazing raptly into the middle distance. As Breyer speaks, Scalia first smirks, then giggles, then sort of erupts with a rebuttal, usually aimed right at the tips of his shoes. Where Breyer is ever striving to connect to the world, Scalia is happiest in his head. Throughout the debate, Breyer continues to measure, aloud, whether he and Scalia are "making progress." Scalia laughs that Breyer's hopes for the evening are too high.

Scalia is charming and—as ever—riotously funny. For each time Breyer says his own constitutional approach is "complicated" or "hard," Scalia retorts that his is "easy as pie" and a "piece of cake." And if this debate mirrors a marketplace of ideas, Breyer will make the sale through the earnest personal connection of a Wal-Mart greeter, while Scalia opts for the aloof certainty of the Tiffany's salesman: "Sure, you can buy some other, cheaper constitutional theory, but really. Ew."