To filibork or merely bork: that is the question.
Whether ’tis nobler on the Hill to offer
the stings of NARAL’s outrageous court tunes,
Or talk storms against Alito’s doubles,
And by not ceasing, end him? Defy that creep;
It’s war; and against that creep to make no end of the not-so-factual talk
the left is heir to, ’tis a repudiation
Devoutly to be wish’d. Defy that creep;
That creep: we’ll lance his scheme: ay, there’s the rub;
For putting that creep to the test, what votes may come
When we have shoveled all that verbal soil,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long speech;
For who would bear the toot-their-horns of each,
The senator’s song, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despised votes, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he might nucleic make
With a fair option? who would filis bear,
As they preen and sweat under a TV light,
So the scent of political death.
That well discover’d country from whose bourn
few losers return, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those rules we have
Than fly to others we know not of
Thus nuke-license does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And political exercises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.
–Soft you now!
The fair O’Connor! Nymph, in thy opinions
Be all my sins remember’d.