I’m not always a fan of John Roberts’ split-the-difference jurisprudence on matters like Obamacare. But last night, after 15 wearying hours of back-and-forth on the Senate floor over the rules that will govern Trump’s impeachment trial—not even the impeachment itself!—Roberts’ fatherly scolding felt like a message from the rest of us. Knock it off, he told Trump’s lawyers and House managers, and start acting like adults:

Roberts’ scolding was reminiscent of the slapdowns regularly issued by speakers of the British parliament (though without the “I AM NOT FAIN TO ACCEPT THY LOQUACIOUS INTERLOCUTIONS, GOOD SIR!!” theatrics that John Bercow brought to that body). But perhaps it’s more apt to think of Roberts as America’s dad. For a glorious split second, he made it feel like every frothing, vituperative Twitter edgelord was about to get the belt. Indeed, Roberts last night was in possession of something rare in America today: respected and legitimate authority, unchallenged in the culture war.

Roberts is right that trials don’t typically resort to harsh language. Though the Senate generally has a long tradition of members slagging each other off. Everyone recalls that Congressman Preston Brooks attacked Senator Charles Sumner with a cane; what’s less remembered is that the assault was preceded by a windy and vitriolic speech by Sumner that called Senator Stephen Douglas a “noise-some, squat, and nameless animal…not a proper model for an American senator” and charged that Senator Andrew Butler had taken “a mistress…the harlot, Slavery.” That kind of thing was not so uncommon in “the world’s greatest deliberative body,” especially during the fraught 1850s.

Of course, given what soon followed, that’s cold comfort. So good on Roberts for raising his hand—and good on the senators for applauding him once he was done. That leaves only one question: why does no one ever use the word “pettifogging” anymore? It has to be the most elegant synonym for “BS-ing” in the English language.