This is what George Mitchell will miss out on, now that he has turned his back on the Supreme Court of the United States:

Back in 1989, an English teacher at the Central Maine Technical College in Auburn arranged a meeting with an 18-year-old student. He got her alone and kissed her.

The college fired him. He sued.

Why? Not because he disputed kissing the young woman — the smooch was stipulated.

Not because it was his first offense — he admitted to sexual relationships with two adult students at another college. He had been accused of sexual harassment by a fourth student.

No, Donald C. Winston, the teacher, argued that the Maine Technical College System had illegally discriminated against him because he has a disease — permanent sexual addiction.

A state judge who first encountered the case did not find that the desire to kiss an 18-year-old provided Winston with any special protection under the law, and threw out the lawsuit.

Winston appealed. The state supreme court tossed it out. He appealed again, to the highest court in the land.

On Monday, the Supreme Court tossed it out again, without comment. (That, in my mind, was the injustice — if there was ever a case that deserved a Scalia scalding or a Rhenquist rant, this is it.)

The my-addiction-made-me-do-it argument was already reeling here in Maine. Two weeks ago, the state supreme court ruled on the appeal of two Portland-area residents who had been convicted of possessing heroin.

This couple, James and Sandra Hart, admitted to possessing heroin. They had to, they argued; they were addicts. If they didn’t get their fix, it would be harmful to their health.

The supreme court responded that the Legislature understood that heroin was addictive when it outlawed the drug. In fact, that was probably why the Legislature outlawed heroin in the first place. From that, the court surmised that the Legislature did not mean to exempt people who got themselves hooked.

In other words, just because you break a law over and over again does not mean that you accrue any frequent offender points that you can redeem for a free ride some day.

That is bad news for a friend of mine who speeds. Every day. Very fast. She hops in her station wagon, a crazed look in her eye. She stamps on the gas pedal. The station wagon begins to shudder, the engine whines and the valves clatter like a crazed tap dancer — and that’s just getting out of the driveway.

She has not been caught yet, but I figured when she did, I would defend her.

JUDGE: You may call your first witness.

ME: Yes, Your Honor, I would like to call Dr. Richard X. Pert. Rich, what is your opinion of my client?

PERT: She’s sick.

ME: Very sick?

PERT: She has an extreme case of Manic Pedal Depression, compounded by a compulsive need for road dominance and a deep-seated driver-behavior disorder. She is, I’m afraid, addicted to speeding.

ME: And how did she fall prey to that addiction?

PERT: I believe that years in the employment of individuals obsessed with time, particularly the time of her arrival in the workplace, have left her with a chronic feeling of chronological inadequacy. Further, I believe that repressed memory therapy might reveal some very interesting emotional trauma from her childhood, perhaps scars left by her parents’ refusal to buy her a faster bicycle.

ME: And, therefore, it is not she who should pay the state, but the state that should pay her, to compensate for preventing her from fulfilling her emotional needs?

JUDGE: Mr. Kloehn, you’re out of order.

PERT: Yes, with additional compensation for a long course of therapy.

ME: Thousands? Hundreds of thousands?

JUDGE: Mr. Kloehn, if you don’t control yourself, I’ll have you sanctioned for misconduct.

ME: MILLIONS, Doctor? Mightn’t such pain and deprivation be worth MILLIONS to my client, with a third going to her LAWYER?

JUDGE: Mr. Kloehn, I’ll have you disbarred!

ME: You can’t, Your Honor — I’m not barred in the first place. But I am certain that I can launch a career with this case — WORTH TENS OF MILLIONS, DOCTOR? AND TREBLE LEGAL FEES? AND …

JUDGE: (Throwing gavel at me) I FIND YOU IN CONTEMPT! STOP NOW, OR I’LL SEND YOU STRAIGHT TO JAIL!

ME: But, Your Honor, it’s not my fault — I’m addicted.