"I always made one prayer . . ." Voltaire wrote. "'O my God, make our enemies quite ridiculous!' God granted it."

Recently, ridiculous enemies have been popping up everywhere, like those persistent rodents in Whac-a-Mole.

In Grand Rapids, Michigan, Board of Education member David Allen must be chuckling. He had committed the ultimate heresy, saving his school district nearly four million bucks by pushing the privatization of some of the district's transportation services as well as the substitute teachers.

Understandably, this earned him honors in the community.

But not everyone was pleased. The Committee for Positive Community Change launched a recall campaign against Allen. That's no easy task. In order to force a recall election, the law requires the signatures of 16,500 registered voters on petitions. Of course, the Michigan Education Association lent a helping hand.

And, then, there they were on the deadline day turning in their signatures. The group's leader Kenneth Muhammad (also a local Nation of Islam leader) told reporters, "As far as we are concerned, we met our objectives."

What were their objectives? How did they do? They gathered a whopping three signatures. Just three.

Paperwork. Editorials. Several hearings. And the consequent outpouring of public support? Three . . . minus three. Tragically, not one of the signatures turned out to be valid. Because, at least according to Grand Rapids officials, the petitions were not filled out properly.

If you look on the bright side, though, the group was only 16,500 signatures short.

You might not find 16,500 citizens in my home state of Arkansas who can yet laugh about their enemy, Charles Ormond of Morrilton. Ormond has two ballot measures in the works. The measures are confusingly written, but are they confusing enough to successfully dupe folks into voting one of them into law?

One is an attempt to weaken term limits. Legislators tried that in 2004 and got clobbered by voters, but this is a clever effort, not seeking to increase the number of terms most representatives may serve but the l e n g t h of each term. Very smooth.

There's also convoluted language in the measure that would especially apply to former legislators like himself. (Yes, and this is an important point: Ormond was term limited out of the state House of Representatives last January.)

Believe it or not, Ormond's other ballot measure is even more self-serving. It's an attempt to get a lottery and gambling commission into the state. It's another of his perennial attempts at constitutional tinkering. And, get this, the title of the measure names himself, Charles Ormond of Morrilton, Arkansas, as the first commissioner of this new agency. For a ten-year term, no less. And at a "reasonable" salary, which commissioners would set for themselves.

Let me pause here. I have to suppress laughter. And a sort of grudging admiration. If you go into politics to serve yourself, why not go all the way?

Back when he was serving the people, Ormond was dubbed the worst legislator in Arkansas. But what's he aiming for now that he's out, "worst citizen"?

Maybe just "most ridiculous."

Of course, he has plenty of competition. Just go into the blogosphere, and ridiculousness sort of blooms, like the lovely spring dandelions on my lawn (lovely is my adjective, of course; my wife has other words for them).

This whole column could be devoted to ridiculous arguments encountered on blogs. Continued...