• Collection of the Supreme Court of the United States, via Wikimedia Commons

A certain corner of the internet is having a real "DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD" moment right now over the death of Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, known for his deeply unpleasant hardline conservative opinions on abortion and LGBT rights, among other things. But while I'm excited at the prospect of another Obama appointment to the Court of Courts, and I definitely laughed at this tweet, has no one else remembered that Scalia was one of Our Lady of Truth and Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg's "best buddies"?

While I struggle to feel sad that someone who wanted to overturn Roe v. Wade is no longer a Supreme Court Justice, I'm sad that RBG lost a friend. Two things can be true! And what a friendship it was!

RBG and Scalia's friendship was transcendent. Despite being ideologically opposed, Ginsburg and Scalia were close. Their families had an ongoing New Year's Eve tradition. They once rode an elephant together, and joked about what it meant that Scalia got to sit in front. It's the kind of unlikely friendship that buddy-comedy gold is made of. If Scalia and his conservative SCOTUS ilk (Roberts, Alito, etc.) were like a Cerberus with the heads of only Stadtler and Waldorf, Ginsburg and Scalia were the Court's Rust Cohle and Marty Hart.

Here's the full text of Ginsburg's statement on Scalia's death, posted on the Supreme Court's website yesterday. The opera thing is sort of an inside joke—Scalia and Ginsburg were both big fans (emphasis mine):

Toward the end of the opera Scalia/Ginsburg, tenor Scalia and soprano Ginsburg sing a duet: “We are different, we are one,” different in our interpretation of written texts, one in our reverence for the Constitution and the institution we serve. From our years together at the D.C. Circuit, we were best buddies. We disagreed now and then, but when I wrote for the Court and received a Scalia dissent, the opinion ultimately released was notably better than my initial circulation. Justice Scalia nailed all the weak spots—the “applesauce” and “argle bargle”—and gave me just what I needed to strengthen the majority opinion. He was a jurist of captivating brilliance and wit, with a rare talent to make even the most sober judge laugh. The press referred to his “energetic fervor,” “astringent intellect,” “peppery prose,” “acumen,” and “affability,” all apt descriptions. He was eminently quotable, his pungent opinions so clearly stated that his words never slipped from the reader’s grasp.

Justice Scalia once described as the peak of his days on the bench an evening at the Opera Ball when he joined two Washington National Opera tenors at the piano for a medley of songs. He called it the famous Three Tenors performance. He was, indeed, a magnificent performer. It was my great good fortune to have known him as working colleague and treasured friend.

As rumors circulate about who will replace Scalia on our country's fanciest bench—and Mitch McConnell has a tantrum about how judicial appointments work—here's something else to remember: When asked at what point enough women will be on the Supreme Court, Ginsburg's response has always been "When there are nine."

Take it away, notorious RBG: