"O, O!" Nevadans did cry out: "Who's the Anointed One, destined by our Mining, Casino, and Construction Overlords to be the One True Governor in 2010?
"O! Woe is Us", they did cry! "Last time it was all so Clear Cut! The elites, the High Priests of Nevada Juice did tell us who was the One."
"Yes," The High Priests said, "There can be only One, and that One is Jim Gibbons!"
"Hosanna!" did all the Grateful Nevadans cry. "You have delivered unto Us a Savior! Praise Jim Gibbons!"
And Nevadans did vote for Gibbons. And it really did Sucketh.
For the Land was visited by a terrible pestilence, called the Great Recession. And the Casino, and Construction Overlords did cry out: "Save us, O, Anointed One! Save us from our Greed and Short-sightedness, our Worship at the Idol of Unfettered Growth!"
But the Mining Lords did not cry out, lest the hoards of wealth they were quietly hoarding be discovered by the Anointed One and the Council of Sixty-three. Not that the Anointed One or the Council of Sixty-three did seeketh after that wealth very hard.
Behold. "No new taxes" did the Anointed One proclaim, and proclaim, and proclaim, as he reposed in his Gardens, eating the fatted calf, playing with the Concubines, and setting the dogs on the Wife. "No new taxes" he did proclaim, until neither the Concubines nor the dogs would paid heed.
And the High Priests, reckoning that they did appear Dumber than the Sphincter of an Ass, did wonder, "Whom should we anoint? The peasants now thinketh we are no wiser than the Sphincter of an Ass! We must dump the Anointed One and his Concubines and find someone New! But, Who shall it be?"
And one among them did step forward, called Monte Miller of the Keystone, and he did cry: "Although I am known as a Friend to the Anointed One, I knoweth when to stabbeth a Friend in the Back for self-serving political ends! Let us, my friends, stabbeth the Anointed One in the Back! And then let us anoint a New Anointed One! Or failing that, let us put out a press release insisting the Brian of Sandoval is the Anointed One and see if the credulous Nevadans bite!" (Sun)
And without even a wince, did the Monte Miller of the Keystone not only stab one old Friend in back, but even two, because the King of Keystone Himself had a whim to be anointed.
But, lo, it was no longer so Clear Cut that Nevadans would biteth the new lure of the Overlords. Indeed Astrologers Magi Pundits did whisper that Anointing was dead because Nevadans, disgusted and starving under the rule of the Anointing Class whom they thought were Dumber than the Sphincter of an Ass, would not longer vote for the next idiot the Anointers Anointed. (Sun)
Unless, of course, Nevadans themselves are still Dumber than the Sphincter of an Ass. And betting is still open on that one.