Visualize a structure, a wall made of rock and concrete. It is a thick wall -- 10 feet, at least. No, make it 12. It is 12 feet thick. It is not very high. Let's say 8 feet. Nor is it very long -- about 15 feet.

The Virginia Legislature is on one side of this structure. A budget resolution is on the other. To get to resolution, the legislature simply must get to the other side of this structure. There are no rules on how to do this -- choices -- but no rules. They may go over it, under it, around to the left, around to the right, or through it. Let's see. That's five. There are five choices. But no rules.

There are no time limits in this matter. The legislature can take as long as it wants. Sure, in terms of energy and effort and such, 'sooner' would seem to make more sense than 'later.' But that is just an observation. It is not a time limit. The legislature can take as long as it wants.

Members of the legislature may use whatever tools they can bring to hand in getting to the resolution side of this block of rock. There are no rules of prohibition on what they may use. They may use talk, humor, threat, referenda, polling, letters, appeals, broadcasts. They may use advisers, soothsayers, palm readers, consultants. They may use prayer. They may use intimidation. They may use spells and brews and incantations. There are no rules of prohibition on what they may use.

Finally, this piece of the set-up: They must get to the resolution side of that wall of solid rock. Not getting there is not an option. There is no alternative scenario. They must get to the other side. No matter what it takes. No matter what it costs. No matter the time. Failure is not an option.

So what do they do, these members of the legislature, these folks we've sent to represent us?

They huddle up. Visualize here a football game huddle: in a circle, heads leaned in, arms draped across each other's shoulders. They huddle for a long time -- 60 days -- discussing their options, the merits of their choices, one of which they must use. When the huddle breaks, it is obvious that they have chosen. They telegraph that choice with odd behavior.

They go to the wall, take 25 paces back from it, and turn and face it in a line. The spectacle takes on magnificence. It is a sunny day. The sky is cloudless and bright blue. They stand there in a flawless line facing this thick rock wall. Then, on a silent cue, they charge. Heads down, running as fast and as hard as they possibly can, they ram their heads into the rock wall.

It is not a pretty thing to watch. Heads are split. Skulls are cracked. There is bleeding. Lots of bleeding. The legislators sit dazed in the dust. "Well, this obviously didn't work," they think to themselves. "We need a better plan."

They get up, dust themselves off, wipe the blood from their foreheads, spit out broken teeth, and return to the huddle. It is the same kind of huddle, circled, heads leaned in, arms about each other shoulders. This time there is nodding. The murmur of their discussion can be heard from some distance. They are getting somewhere.

And then the huddle breaks.

Again they go to the wall, but this time they step off 50 paces before they turn to face it in a line. Still, the sight is magnificent. The sun is bright. The sky is bright, bright blue. Heads split, skulls cracked, they stand proudly in this line. On silent signal, they charge again, heads down, running twice as hard, twice as fast. Again they ram their heads into this wall.

Heads split, skulls cracked anew, they are dazed again, but now are more determined. Again they get up, dust themselves off, wipe the blood from their foreheads, spit out more broken teeth, and return with resolution to the huddle. There is more nodding, louder murmurs.

This time when they break from the huddle, they step off 75 paces before they turn, heads down, in charging mode, and face this wall of rock ...