Both cite unassailably high-minded reasons, but West has just won. Over many years he has assiduously cultivated a real estate tycoon in Salem MA (Isaac Wyman, Princeton Class of 1848). Wyman’s dear old granddad had fought for our freedom at the Battle of Princeton (1777), and West has successfully insinuated the thought that building a memorial Gothic dining hall somewhere vaguely in the vicinity, or at least direction of the battlefield would be the best possible use of the Wyman fortune. West has just hotfooted it from Wyman’s funeral to telegraph the news back to Princeton: Wyman, naming Andrew Fleming West as executor, has left a bequest of millions provided the money is spent as West directs.
The reproof is too much for Woodrow Wilson to bear. He must find a new job, and the rest is history. In the good old days the Democratic Party had done quite well, thank you very much, bearing the standard of Rum, Romanism, and Rebellion, though branching out occasionally to pioneer powerful political machines in the burgeoning great cities of the Republic. When the Rebellion turned out rather badly it became the regional party of the Solid South, State Sovereignty, and Segregation. Woodrow Wilson began to change all that. He was one of the first American politicians to make a religious virtue of telling other people and indeed other nations how to live their lives. They have not stopped since. That is why ethanol production, which might be classified as a scam midway betwixt itinerant aluminum siding contracting and three-card monte, has been hailed as an ethical insight roughly comparable to the categorical imperative of Immanuel Kant.
Episode Three. A sea of troubles and irrational numbers. The scene: Santa Susana Hall, home of the Mathematics Department, California State University (Northridge), December, 2010. As this is a current event, I must count on readers to supply their own allegeds or allegedlys as liberally as needed. The star of the episode is an algebraic geometrician who, though in fact a binomial, will here and for obvious reasons be referred to simply as Professor Ρi. Professor Pi has been conducting a dispute with his colleague Professor Phi in a neighboring office. Custodians report repeatedly finding, on their early-morning rounds, suspicious puddles of acrid-smelling liquid pooled at the base of Professor Phi’s office door. It seems possible, shockingly so, that in Shakespearean terms "the gilded puddle which beasts would cough at" might in some way be related to the ongoing quarrel, Pi/Phi. Acting upon these suspicions, innovative campus police take bold action. They install a closed circuit security camera that scans the moistened hallway.