The common moorhen (Gallinula chloropus) is a bird species in the rail family, Rallidae. It is distributed across many parts of the Old World, from Africa to Europe and Asia. It lives around well-vegetated marshes, ponds, canals and other wetlands. A midsized to large rail, the common moorhen ranges in length from 30 to 38 cm (12 to 15 in) in length and spans 50 to 62 cm (20 to 24 in) across the wings. It gives a wide range of gargling calls and will emit loud hisses when threatened. This common moorhen was photographed in the Parc des Chanteraines near Gennevilliers in the suburbs of Paris, France.Photograph credit: Alexis Lours
... that Giovanni Manu was the first player from his university ever to be selected in the NFL draft?
... that Barack Obama made an election promise to make non-emergency bills freely available online for a five-day public consultation period under "sunlight before signing"?
... that Bob Noel was the one responsible for dealing "with all the dirty laundry" of the Green Bay Packers?
This Wikipedia page is considered semi-tractor-trailer-policy. Semi-tractor-trailer-policy pages are an attempt to jack-knife any real policies and present herculean efforts in codification to questionable purpose. These long-standing unwritten unapproved unthought unrules have widespread support since no actual vote ever becomes real. They should be treated as law, unless they do not support your flame war.
It is so terribly sad that I have to explain that the above is a JOKE
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!