On Wisconsin: The People United, Will Not Be Defeated

8:08 AM somewhere on eastbound I94 in the rolling hills of Western Wisconsin.

Men plow deep while sluggards sleep. Five AM came early this morning, as it does every morning. I can't help but think of my news reporter idol and journalism mentor Don Shelby as I tighten the knot, a Shelby of course, of my tie. I think of what has already transpired and what lay before me today as we set out on our grand crusade for economic and social(ist) justice.

As the primer gray 1977 Chevy van made the rounds through North and South Minneapolis and then eastward to the barrio of West St. Paul picking up the usual assortment of comrades, anarchists, illegals and co-conspirators we softly hummed the melody to the "Internationale". All the usual suspects were here: Carter, Mondale, Dorothy Day, Davidov, Roybol and Chavez (Hugo and Cesar). I could tell by the grim looks of determination on all their faces, these liberals meant business.

I noticed that each of the van's occupants were nervously fidgeting or caressing a weapon of some sort. Carter wielded a large canoe paddle (perhaps the very same that he used to smote the rabid wabbit), Mondale had his dynamic personality which is legend for being able to put even the most agitated voter asleep and Dorothy Day was fidgeting between her long bony fingers a heavy steel chain that she coyly called her rosary and that she would like to "...use to say a prayer for Scotty Walker with".