Granted, we're short a few orgies and beheadings. But there was a certain Caligula-like liberation in not even bothering to obscure overt political unseemliness when the Legislature obediently renamed a perfectly good bridge after Willie "Ayatollah of the Assembly" Brown. There are any number of reasons why this move contravened the Legislature's own rules — Brown lives, breathes, and writes entire newspaper columns about deviled eggs, for one thing. But who cares? Really, who cares? This was the rancid cherry atop San Francisco's sundae of corruption. In the end, no one will call this structure the "Willie L. Brown, Jr. Bridge," even though it is. And no one will call this city "Willie L. Brown, Jr.'s City." Even though it is.
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