After decades in the wilderness, they emerged, victorious, on the mountaintop. They had vanquished the foe, dispatching the king and his courtiers to a life on the back benches—or worse. Victory, sweet victory, was theirs. They ruled!
So they would party, right? Party was their last name. They would gather together in gay frivolity to savor the sweet fruits of victory 'til dawn.
Or not.
This was the scene at midnight in the ballroom of the Dartmouth Holiday Inn, where the socialist hordes gathered to celebrate.
The merriment went on 'til, oh, 10:30 or so, before the troops, led by their newly minted MLAs,...
10 June, 2009