Time for another tale from the fellowship of reform

Reform.

It's a nice word, kind of rolls off the tongue.

It makes an especially nice sound in a state accustomed to felonious politicos who rub elbows with Mafiosi and college admissions officials.

But words can also act as a Merlin-esque shield - magically deflecting criticism and protecting their owner's lily-white hearts.

Who owns the word "reform?" Many valiant princes of state and local politics have tried to the claim the word, with the struggle growing more intense after Gov. Elvis left the building.

But rather than seize the spirit of the word, many of these princes have instead drunk its blood, imbibing its nutritive qualities while leaving its lifeless shell on the yellowed grass.

Like a spell cast by a Gandalfian mage, the blood of reform fills their bellies, slaking their thirst for battle, granting them immunity from their enemies' attacks - and leaving dry the throats of their lowly subjects.

No prince of politics who has touched his lips to the goblet of reform can be harmed - or so the princely mind reasons.

Hark, ye soldiers! For you should fear the reform-drunk princes. They are a warlike race that will leave no limb un-hacked in their noble crusade to remedy the sick, kindly dragon of Illinois politics.

They will seem impervious to your mightiest longbows, they will beguile your swiftest crossbows. The flaming oil that you pour on them as they try to scale your fortress will turn into harmless vapor as it rolls off their skin.

But fear not! For the Reformists are not as invincible as they seem. Yes, there are chinks in their blinding armor.

Strike them once at that spot where their personal failings belie their public stoicism and self-righteous denouncements.

Strike them again where their overpowering urge to aid their coreligionists - despite their follies and foolishness - outshines their avowed hatred of clannishness.

Deliver a mighty blow when they greedily try to wrest the mantle of reform from their soldiers and servants, draping it across their shoulders alone, leaving no cloth for their fellows.

But always keep a close watch. For many have been seduced by Reformism and will perish at your sword before you can slay their gilt idols.

Perhaps it is wiser counsel to flee when you see the galloping Reformist hordes.

Because even the most fervent Reformist packs up his battle ax and goes home when he has no enemy - real or imagined - to fight.