Reduce, reuse and recycle -- A Man Without a Party (or if you prefer), An Ode to Party Switcher Rep. Mike Jacobs.

While waiting for the Marlow returns, let's put a spin on -- make that turn into poetry -- today's event in the Georgia legislature:

Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my natural group!
Whose heart no longer within him burns,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd
From wandering on his self-made coup?

If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no longer his District's raptures swell;
High though his ego, once his proud name,
Boundless his statewide publicity as wish can claim;
Despite the countless press, perceived power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.

Adapted from Breathes There a Man, from The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Cando VI, Stanza 1, by one of my favorites, Sir Walter Scott, the Scotish author.