[Note: Read the "prequel" to this post, "Private Legislatures" first and this will make a lot more sense to you. -- HW]
The California media are chasing their tails over the revelation that the “Electoral College” initiative that’s supposedly failing was given an $175,000 donation by a Missouri attorney named Charles Hurth III, who [...]
Good news of a sort, today — unless you happen to be one of those who make their living gathering petition signatures, or running petition campaigns for money in those twenty-plus states that allow ballot measures and initiatives.
Another “stealth” petition drive has, seemingly, bit the dust in California, according to the Los Angeles Times:
[...]
NB: Mr. Williams is responsible for all illustrations.
his vorpal sword recommends
Click image for details
Evidently you CAN fool some people all the time
Three Webrings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Red States where the Shadows lie.
One Webring to rule them all,
One Webring to find them,
One Webring to bring them all
and in the darkness bind them
In the Red States where the Shadows lie.
(with apologies to J.R.R. Tolkien)
his vorpal sword
blog contents are © 2007, 2008 Hart Williams
WARNING: Mr. Williams, is, according to the Eugene [Ore.] Register-Guard, the "Craziest blogger out there."
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Jabberwocky
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two!
And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, hast though slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
