Roberts' response Wednesday to the attempt to remove her from the canvassing board was similarly defiant. "As a member of this board, I have been and continue to be fair," she said, refusing to step down.

Roberts' allies quickly rallied to her defense. "She lives in a fishbowl as well as the other two," said Burt Aaronson, who sits on the Palm Beach County Commission with Roberts. "There are Democrat and Republican challengers in there monitoring the vote count. As far as charges about Carol and any irregularities, I put no credence to that whatsoever." (Aaronson himself made news shortly after Election Day over Buchanan's surprisingly strong showing in the county. He said it was incomprehensible that Buchanan received more than 3,000 votes in Palm Beach on election night because he did not think there were 3,000 Nazis in Palm Beach.)

But there's just something about Roberts that causes Republicans' blood to boil.

"I think the board has handled this situation very well so far except for -- of course -- Carol Roberts, who hasn't been very nice during the whole thing," said Bob Ribernider, a Republican observer on hand to monitor a recount should it restart. "She's just an embarrassment and she should be removed." If there has been anything like a rudder to this sinking ship, it has been County Judge Charles Burton, the canvassing board's chairman. Though also a registered Democrat, Burton has earned points for being evenhanded from Democrats and Republicans alike. Presiding over the proceedings with his New England brogue, if you close your eyes you could swear you were listening to NPR news analyst Daniel Schorr.

Burton voted against the initial hand count, citing concerns that they did not have the authority to conduct it. But throughout the process he has been candid with the press, and perceived as fair. As he makes the rounds of the morning talk shows, he is quick with a quip in the midst of what has been an excruciating process. "I was thinking of making up T-shirts with: 'The Three Stooges: Me, Carol and Theresa,' he told a reporter from the Financial Times.

Attorney Lubin says he has argued cases both before Judge Burton, and against him when Burton was a prosecutor. "He is a complete gentleman," Lubin said. "You couldn't find a fairer, more honest and objective person if you searched the whole country."

Lubin said as a prosecutor, Burton was considered fair and effective. "He only argued the more serious crimes in that office -- murder and child abuse cases," Lubin said. "He was a good lawyer who didn't have to result to cheap shots, lies or unethical conduct."

Lubin, who knows all three members of the canvassing board at least casually, says the events of the last week have changed his perspective on these media mega stories. "When we sit here and see stories from around the country, you never really think what these people are really like, these people out in front," he says. "Then when it happens in your community and you know all of the players so well, all of a sudden you know what they're like as people and you think, 'I've got to pay more attention to the human beings involved in this thing.' But here we are at the center of the universe."

At the center of the universe, it once again fell to the head of the canvassing board to keep the world's appetite for information satiated. Wednesday and Thursday were days when news trickled out slowly, with new lawsuits and court decisions making the situation increasingly difficult to follow. After the county stopped its recount yet again Wednesday after voting just hours earlier to resume the hand tally, commissioners and the world waited for word from the Florida Supreme Court in Tallahassee. But during the dead air, Burton came out to take his spot at the center of the table to address the crowd -- not because there was any news to report, simply to pass some time.

"We're trying to get something so we don't have folks sitting around doing nothing forever," he said "Periodically, I get urged to come out and entertain you people."

The posse gets so antsy at times that on Wednesday, reporters converged around a person dressed up as a giant red felt-tip pen, wearing a blue cape and hoisting a sign that reads "When will it all Blo over?"

The pen suit and picket sign was a marketing gimmick for a marker company that has less than zero to do with the recount. But it is something to do, and it makes for good television, or something. And soon, the scene is like piranhas at feeding time, as reporters push each other out of the way to get their shots and quotes from the giant pen. "You just turn it around and blow the ink and you get an airbrush effect," the woman giving the demonstration explains. "No, you can't inhale it."

Hours later, after the sun had gone down, the entire canvassing board reemerged to announce that the Florida Supreme Court would rule on the future of the recount Thursday. We were all being excused for the evening. But with the setting of the sun, the entire scene had transformed. While the daytime atmosphere is filled with a sense of tedium, there is something about the soft Florida breeze in the warm November night, klieg lights blaring, the persistent hum of the generators in the background that kneads a sense of drama. Even perfunctory briefings like Wednesday night's short session, when no real news was announced, bring the comfort of a bedtime story, offering an oddly satisfying guarantee that the spectacle will carry on another day, that we will awake tomorrow to find the circus is still in town.

Consider the alternative: Under any other circumstance, this place at this hour would just be a dark, deserted government parking lot.

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