There’s a hole in the wall, where the wind can get in
And it’s been there for fifty-some years
It’s down near the floor, where it hardly gets noticed
Till a chase, when a mouse disappears
When wintertime comes, we can feel the cold air
And remember, that hole is the reason
But then something comes up; it’s forgotten again
And the hole sticks around one more season
So now, fifty years later, I finally thought
I might seal up that hole in my house
But while taking some measurements, strangely enough
I was stopped in my tracks—by a mouse!
“For fifty-some years”, he defiantly squeaked,
“We’ve been using this hole as our door!
Generations of mice have made trips through this hole
And we’re planning a great many more!”
“By leaving this hole as it is for so long
You have ceded all rights to repair it!
To you, it’s a hole, but to us it’s much more,
So the fact is, you’ll just have to share it!”
“This hole you’ve neglected is my hole as well;
Man and mouse have to just get along!”
I listened (astonished a mouse had just talked)
And I quietly told him “You’re wrong.”
A hole in my house is a hole in my house—
Fifty years doesn’t matter at all.
So I picked up my hammer, some nails and some wood
And proceeded to patch up the wall.
In yet another first amendment case, the Connellsville Area Schools were prepared to move a ten commandments monument that violated the establishment clause, but were persuaded by public outcry to fight to keep the monument. Yesterday, the FFRF filed suit.
Predictably, the comments are full of “Tradition!” and “Majority Rules!” and “Get a life, atheists!”. It feels like Cranston all over again.