wearing robes) shall determine the time, place and manner of elections. This is a recipe for anarchy every election year, and not just in New Jersey. Torricelli is not dead (being terminally ill, politically, does not count). He is not incapacitated (being ethically challenged does not count). He is not in jail (with his contributor David Chang, one of seven people who pleaded guilty to making illegal contributions to Torricelli). Were he any of those three there might be grounds for waiving the 51-day limit. But poll results that sadden Senate Majority Leader Tom Daschle are not grounds. Torricelli's career of political sociopathy, of rule-bending and rule-breaking, concludes, fittingly, with a crescendo of cynical rule-inventing. One week before Torricelli's self-immolation, Daschle told a Trenton audience that ``the future of this country'' depended on Torricelli's re-election. But when Daschle and other Democratic advocates of voter amorality failed to persuade New Jersey to be unconcerned about Torricelli's character and record, Torricelli withdrew, thereby enabling Democrats to say New Jersey was thereby denied a choice. It was a Torricellian twist on an old joke: A child kills his parents and demands mercy because he is an orphan. A political party's enthusiastic embrace of the likes of Torricelli should be like getting drunk--a wretched excess that carries its own punishment. The party should stay locked in the embrace it voluntarily entered into with a reprobate, until voters are given a chance to render their judgment on the party's judgment. For 36 days in Florida in 2000, Democrats displayed ferocious contempt for any rules under which they do not win. Next month, voters everywhere should consider the New Jersey spectacle when weighing how much power Democrats deserve.