Time To Dust Off That Romney Body Pillow

When you lose K-Lo, who never met a baseless, illogical belief that she didn't embrace from the bottom of her gullible heart, you know you're no longer considered serious candidate material.

As buzz reignites that Sarah Palin might enter the race, it’s worth listening to what the former vice presidential candidate has said repeatedly: It’s still relatively early. She may simply be discerning her most constructive role in politics and culture as we move toward 2012 and beyond. She’s a woman of talent and experience, with a following and the ability to get people talking. She has a power. Her key question is how to use it for the most good.

Her latest book, "America By Heart, got less attention than her first one," "Going Rogue," because it didn’t have the benefit of being a much-anticipated insider look at a guarded public figure. But it was a bestseller and she used it to shine a light on good people doing good things. Maybe she will do that as a candidate. Maybe she will continue to do that on Fox News or maybe she transitions into a different kind of Oprah.

Stick a knife in her. Palin's done.

The League Of Extraordinary Bloggers: The Replacement

Cross-Posted at TBogg's place.
This is part six of a continuing series about the famous Bloggers who fight for truth, justice, and American Exceptionalism.–the Author

In a Secret Location, a Meeting of Diabolical Minds takes place. It is the League of Extraordinary Bloggers, each a hero (or a heroine or a Coulter) in his (or hers, or Coulter’s) own sphere. They are:

Col. Glenn Reynolds—famous defender of guns, wherever they are needed to fight the Brown Menace.

Michelle Malkin—a creature of the night, with an insatiable thirst for blood under her modest, cheerleader-clad façade.

Jonah Goldberg—A barefoot man-boy with cheek, famous for being so lazy he got his research assistant to paint his fence.

Megan McArdle–a woman of mystery, of disguise, of charm, which hides an unscrupulous and greedy heart.

Ann Althouse—A respectable professor who digs deep into the evil aspects of her psyche when she drink an experimental potion know as “Merlot.”

Part I: The Adventure Begins
Part II: A Fresh Face
Part III: And The Band Played On
Part IV: Strange Bedfellows
Part V: The NRO Cruise: Voyage To Nowhere

Part VI: The Replacement

Reynolds: Okay, bloggers, pull yourselves together. Ann, stop playing with your lei. Goldberg, stop touching the waitress’s skirt.

Goldberg: I’d mow her grass anytime.

Reynolds: Don’t piss me off, Goldberg. Malkin, sit down. When I said fly to Hawaii, I meant take a plane.

Malkin: I have a lot of expenses, Glenn. Fresh blood isn’t cheap. God, are my arms tired. Why did we have to meet in here?

Reynolds: McArdle’s here on her honeymoon and I was under strict orders to include her in the meeting.

Althouse: We have a new leader! What a relief! Karl’s been gone so long and I don’t like that black man at all. He’s so vague and grandiose and socialist. Who’s giving us instructions now, Glenn?

Reynolds: I can’t tell you. (Reynolds giggles but pulls himself together.) Karl wants you to meet his replacement at the Big Island restaurant at 8 p.m.

Goldberg: Waitress!

Reynolds: Goldberg, you haven’t touched your drink. Leave her alone. What’s keeping McArdle?

Goldberg: Duh. She’s on her honeymoon. She’s watching cartoons and drinking everything in the mini-bar.

Malkin: Remind me to send Jessica a condolence card. You’re awfully nervous, Glenn.

Reynolds: No I’m not. I’m sitting her very casually, waiting for the new boss to arrive. Where the hell is McArdle, dammit?

McArdle: Is somebody talking about me?

Reynolds: Hurry up and get over here before the big boss arrives. I want to make a good impression. Oh, and congratulations.

McArdle: Thank you, Glenn. It’s nice to see somebody cares about my Big Event. It’s not like my wedding party did. They spent the entire wedding Twittering each other instead of looking at me.

Reynolds: McArdle–.

McArdle: This is my day, not theirs. I didn’t pay the caterer $100 a head so they could have twitter-fights and throw dinner rolls from one table to another. Plus I had to sneak away from my beloved husband who I miss so much.

Reynolds: Shut up! She’s here! I can’t believe it!

Reynolds giggles and squirms in his seat but quickly recovers. He smooths down his hair and brushes a speck of dirt off his browncoat. A woman slips through the crowded bar and into a seat next to Reynolds. She takes off her wig and glasses and tosses them to the floor. It is Sarah Palin!

Reynolds: Oh, Miss Palin, this is such an honor! We can’t wait to follow your every command. I promise we are well trained and know how to please a woman. A boss woman. A woman who is our boss, and a woman. And a boss.

Althouse: Mrs. Palin, I’m Ann Althouse. I’m a law professor.

Palin: Can you practice law in Alaska? I can always use a good lawyer.

Althouse: Uh, no. I teach.

Palin: Hate teachers. Teachers have unions and want to destroy young minds and call the police on young people who are just high-spirited and didn’t mean to do so much damage. Alleged damage. (To Malkin) Waitress!

Malkin: Mrs. Palin, I’m–

Palin: That’s nice honey. You can get my autograph some other time. Now run over to that bar and get me a little drinkie.

Malkin:—Michelle Malkin, Extraordinary Blogger and Fox News contributor, and not your waitress. And it seems you’ve already had a few drinks.

Goldberg: She has heightened senses. It’s so cool. I’m Jonah Goldberg. I wrote a New York Times best-selling book that was nominated for a Pulitzer.

Palin: Books are for sissies. Col. Reynolds, your orders are to use the British Petroleum oil spill to prove Barack Hussein Obama is a loser. Reynolds, you have the hardest job. I need you to take out one of Obama’s goons. Do you have a gun?

Reynolds: I have many guns, Mrs. Palin and I’m honored to shoot someone for you. I could use my big gun or my really big gun or my special Sunday gun with the mother-of-pearl stock. I have knives too if you want me to kill the Brown Menace with a knife. Also, my boot is very heavy and if you want I can–

Palin: Just shoot him, okey-dokey? Here’s his picture.

Reynolds and Malkin look at the picture.

Malkin: The Brown Menace looks exactly like that guy who moved in next door to you, the writer, what’s his name?

Reynolds: Shut up, Malkin. He’s a dead man, Mrs. Palin, you can count on me.

McArdle: Since Glenn has totally forgotten his manners, let me introduce myself. I am Mrs. Peter Suderman and I write for the famous magazine The Atlantic on economic issues. I’m on my honeymoon but we Extraordinary Bloggers are always ready to serve in a time of need.

Palin: Your honeymoon? That sure as shootin’ brings back memories. And congratulations about the baby. Better late than never, huh?

McArdle: (huffily) I’m not pregnant. What kind of person do you think I am?

Palin: Now, don’t get up on your high horse, missy. It’s no shame for people like us.

McArdle: I am not pregnant! I’m an economics blogger!

Palin: Great, than you can examine these BP spreadsheets and fill out this paperwork. It’s research for our mission. Mail it to this address by the end of the day. (She hands an envelope to McArdle.)

McArdle: Very well. Wait a second. This isn’t figures from British Petroleum. Travel and clothing expenses, W4 forms–these are your taxes!

Palin: Nonsense. Get crackin’, honey, those forms aren’t going to fill themselves out. And make sure you postmark it by midnight.

McArdle: Now just a damn minute. I’m on my honeymoon!

Palin: We all have to make sacrifice for our country. Do you think it was easy quitting my governor job? Where’s your patriotism? Your stick-to-it-tiveness? Your country needs you!

Malkin: Mrs. Palin–

Palin: You still here? Lord, these little Hawaiian people give me the creeps. Hardly a white face from one part of the country to another. Okay, hon, you can write our press release on Obama’s socialist plot to take over BP and redistribute its money to the poor.

Malkin: Fine, just give me the outline. (Malkin scans it quickly and then looks up at Palin.)

Malkin: You want me to update your Facebook page? I don’t ghost-write other people’s work. Doesn’t your husband do this for you?

Palin: Don’t be silly, native girl, schoolbook learnin’ is for children and my Todd is a real man, the kind that loves to hunt and fish and carry out orders to remove your enemies.

Malin: Then why don’t you have him take out—

Palin: Drinkie, sweetie. The day ain’t getting any younger. Fetch.

Malkin bares her fangs and starts to growl.

Reynolds: (hastily) Malkin, you can go now.

Malkin: I bet she tastes like bear grease and failed ambition anyway. (Malkin stalks away.)

Palin: Okay, Grandma, it’s your turn.

The bloggers look around the restaurant. Palin points a long, red fingernail at Althouse.

Althouse: Me? I don’t mind getting you a drink, Mrs. Palin. I know a very special concoction that will make your toes tingle.

Palin: No drinks for you-you’re going to need your wits about you, Grandma. Since Obama’s kids are helping him in his socialist take-over of BP, we have a couple of our own little kiddies to fight back. Your job is to assist them.

Althouse: You want me to introduce them to audiences? Write their little speeches?

Palin: Yeah, yeah. Here’s their pictures.

Althouse: Um, Mrs. Palin, I don’t have any experience with special needs children. Surely his mother would rather be with him if he’s going to be surrounded by strangers?

Palin: Some mothers are busy, alright? They have responsibilities. And their stupid mothers have to take a cruise just because her doctor said she’s exhausted and needs some rest, instead of helpin’ her children like Jesus commanded.

Goldberg: Isn’t that your kid?

Althouse: This is Trigg and Track?

Reynolds: You mean Trogg and Trigg.

Goldberg: I think they’re Trip and Trap.

Palin: Whatever.

Althouse: What about Bristol?

Palin: Teen abstinance lecture. That poor girl pays and pays and pays for her sin. Oh, that reminds me–I haven’t taken my cut yet. Take a note, Honeymoon Girl. Now, which one of you is the Jew?

Reynolds: (points to Goldberg) He is, Mrs. Palin, but I’d be glad to convert if you want. I wouldn’t have to cut anything off, would I?

Palin: (to Goldberg) I have a very special relationship with your people. The only flag in my office is an Israeli flag. I just can’t wait until Jesus returns and wipes you all off the map so Christians can be Raptured. Your assignment is to read all about the history of BP and fill out this research material.

Goldberg: This is a bunch of questions about the history of Alaska. And it has “Piper Palin” written on the name line. And it was due yesterday.

Palin: Your people are so smart, I’m sure you can do it in no time. You have an hour. Piper’s ballet lesson’ll be over then.

Goldberg: I can’t. My research assistant is busy working on my book about cliches.

Palin: Do you want to serve your country or not?

Goldberg: Not if I have to do your daughter’s homework. I have to run, anyway. I have to go to the movies and write a review. For my job. And I have to interview some dancers in the women’s dressing room. I hear some of them belong to a union and I need to talk to them about freedom and the free market. And then I need to take my daughter to the new Harry Potter theme park. For my job.

Reynolds pulls his gun from its holster and points in in Goldberg’s face.

Goldberg: (hastily) I’ll pull my assistant off the book right away.

Reynolds: Good. Anything else, Mrs. Palin?

Palin: Yeah. What the hell is that?

Palin points to a small woman in a nun’s habit and veil making her way to the table.

Reynolds: Oh, Jesus. Quick, eveyone, under the table!

The League and Palin duck under the tablecloth.

Palin: You wanna explain yourself, Col.?

Reynolds: Shhhhh!

“Nun’s” voice: Glennie, is that you?

Palin: That nun is lookin’ for you Glenn. Stop hidin’ and act like a man.

Reynolds’ face turns red and he comes out from under the table. The rest of the League stays where they are.

Reynolds: K-Lo. What are you doing here and why are dressed up like a penguin?

K-Lo: Hi, Glenn! I thought that since Megan was on her honeymoon I could take her place in The League of Extraordinary Bloggers’ latest adventure. I’m in disguise so nobody knows my real identity.

Palin appears from under the table. K-Lo stiffens with shock. Her eyes widen and her mouth slowly opens. She sinks to her knees.

K-Lo: Mrs.–

Palin: What’s that, honey?

K-Lo: Mrs.—

Palin: You got a stutter, honey?

K-Lo makes the sign of the cross and rises.

K-Lo: Oh, Mrs. Palin! God has answered my prayers at last! Well, one of my prayers, but that’s one more prayer than he’s ever answered before!

K-Lo bends over and kisses Palin’s wedding ring.

Palin: Take it easy, girlie, you’re getting spit on my diamond.

K-Lo shudders in esctasy.

K-Lo: Oh, Mrs. Palin! Can I do anything for you, Mrs. Palin? Would you like a drink? A massage? A kidney, one that’s never tasted the demon rum? Is your chair comfortable? Do you need a pillow? I can be a footrest if you want. See, I’ll just bend over and—.

Palin: Col., I don’t think you and your Bloggers will be needed after all. Come with me, little nun. I think we’re going to be very good friends.

Palin hands her wig, sunglasses, purse, and sweater to K-Lo and departs. K-Lo caresses the sweater furtively and follows.

Reynolds: She’s gone.

The other bloggers sit back in their seats.

Reynolds: She’s gone, and I don’t know if she’s ever coming back.

Goldberg: They’re both gone, hopefully for good. I never thought I’d see the day when K-Lo found her true calllng. I was sure she’d end up in the loony bin.

Reynolds: Enough chit-chat. Mrs. Palin needs us. Let’s get crackin’, bloggers.

Goldberg: Sure thing, Glenn. Right after lunch.

The League of Extraordinary Bloggers: Goin' Galt At Last

In a Secret Location, a Meeting of Diabolical Minds takes place. It is the League of Extraordinary Bloggers, each a hero (or a heroine or a Coulter) in his (or hers, or Coulter's) own sphere. They are:

Col. Glenn Reynolds—famous defender of guns, wherever they are needed to fight the Brown Menace.

Michelle Malkin—a creature of the night, with an insatiable thirst for blood under her modest, cheerleader-clad façade.

Jonah Goldberg—A barefoot man-boy with cheek, famous for being so lazy he got his research assistant to paint his fence.

Megan McArdle--a woman of mystery, of disguise, of charm, which hides an unscrupulous and greedy heart.

Ann Althouse—A respectable professor who digs deep into the evil aspects of her psyche when she drink an experimental potion know as “Merlot.”

Part I: The Adventure Begins
Part II: A Fresh Face
Part III: And The Band Played On
Part IV: Strange Bedfellows
Part V: The NRO Cruise: Voyage To Nowhere

Part VI: Goin' Galt At Last

Reynolds: Is everyone here? Good God, what a storm. If it weren't for my steampunk snowplow I'd still be stuck in Virginia. How did you get here, Malkin?

Malkin: I flew. It was easy once my eyes started glowing red.

McArdle: We should have been able to just drive here instead of getting a police escort. I blame the government for not taking better care of me when I needed them and when everyone else got to go to the Mediterranean on Spring Break and I had to go visit Aunt Bessie and her pet cow Daisy on the farm. Or was it the cow who was named Aunt Bessie? We pay our hard-earned money on taxes for services and where are the services?

Goldberg: We shouldn't be paying any taxes at all!

All: Yeah!

Althouse: And we shouldn't get any services either! We should all clear our own roads!

McArdle: Not so fast, Ann. I have no problem with privilege. Why should I clean my own house or cook my own meals or research my own columns when I can pay someone else to do it for me or not do it at all? It's a much more efficient allocation of resources. Plus work is hard.

Goldberg: Very well said, Megan. I tell my wife that all the time but she never listens to me just because she has more degrees than me.

Malkin: You upper class twits are helpless.

Goldberg: Not everyone has a stay-at-home husband to cook and clean for them.

Malkin: Your wife seems to-she's the lawyer; you blog in your "home office." Also known as "the den."

Goldberg: I work out of the home and office, I'm not a housewife! I'm writing a book and that proves it! I got a million dollars for my second book!

McArdle: What?

Goldberg: I got a million dollars to write a book about how cliches are stupid.

Malkin: Let me guess--your next book will be about how men who speak Klingon are just little boys who never grew up.

Goldberg: I'm an intellectual now, Malkin, so you better be nicer to me or I'll tell O'Reilly to stop putting you on tv. Oh wait, he already did.

Malkin's fangs pop out.

Althouse: Look out Jonah, she's starting to drool, just like when she almost ate Fluffy.

Goldberg giggles.

McArdle: God, you are so jejean, Jonah.

Reynolds: It's jejune.

McArdle: How the hell do you know, Glenn?

Althouse: Helen says it to him all the time. Then she makes him call her Mother Superior.

Reynolds: Gorram it, Ann, the first rule of Dr. Helen's Pleasure House of Pain is to never talk about Dr. Helen's Pleasure House of Pain. That's it--no more Merlot for you.

Althouse: (tosses her head) Fine, I have my own anyway.

Althouse pulls out a flask and takes a dainty swig.

McArdle: Shut up, Ann, and let Jonah talk. How did you get this book contract anyway, Jonah?

Malkin: His mother is a literary agent.

Goldberg: That had nothing to do with it. My reputation preceded me--

Malkin: (interrupts) Much like your stomach.

Goldberg--and everyone begged me to share my insights with my fellow intellectuals. They're making documentaries about me already.

McArdle: Eww, Peter made me watch that with him. It was stupid. Why couldn't we have watched Hoarders instead? I saw this tv show once where a woman filled a warehouse with her possessions. There were shoes and purses and kitchen appliances and electronic equipment and clothes and oh my God, they were everywhere I looked, heaps and piles and mountains of things that prove the superiority of the American Way of Life and our glorious consumer culture and yummy free markets and--and--.

Malkin slaps her.

McArdle sways and ignores the slap.

McArdle: Is it hot in here or is it just me?

Goldberg: Slap her again, Malkin, that was fun.

Malkin slaps Goldberg.

Goldberg: Why, you--I oughta--.

Malkin pokes him in the eye.

Goldberg: Stop it Malkin! That's not funny!

Malkin: I think it's hilarious. What are you going to do, Goldberg, tell your mommy on me?

Goldberg: Leave my wife out of this.

The women snicker.

Reynolds: Enough, enough, we're not here to beat up Jonah, unfortunately. We have a mission to accomplish.

Malkin: Speak for yourself, Reynolds.

Reynolds: WE ARE HERE to coordinate our response to the Snowpocalypse of the Century. My orders are to--

McArdle: By the way, Glenn, who is giving us orders now that Karl has retired to spend more time with his collection of bastinadas?

Reynolds: That's a secret.

McArdle: Come on, tell us. I won't tell anyone else. I deserve to know if I'm going to lead our nation to a new era of fiscal freedom and consumer-based individualism.

Althouse: I don't understand, Megan.

Malkin: Don't worry, neither does she.

McArdle: I went to the top, most expensive schools in the country, Michelle. Where did you go, a state school?

Malkin: I went to Oberlin, you idiot.

McArdle: Where did you go to school, Glenn?

Reynolds: SHUT UP!

Malkin whispers to McArdle. McArdle giggles.

McArdle: How sweet.

Reynolds reaches for his blaster but Malkin grabs his hand.

Malkin: The mission?

Reynolds: Right. Jonah, your mission is to---okay, what the hell happened to Jonah? He was here a minute ago.

K-lo: Look no further than I, Glennie--I mean Col. Reynolds!

Everyone turns around and sees K-Lo, dressed in a pith helmet, khaki skirt and jacket, and Pink Power Rangers quilted coat, holding a knife to Jonah's throat.

Jonah (croaks) K-Lo, let me go or I'll tell everyone what you begged me to do at the office party.

Malkin: Nobody move! He still owes me fifty bucks!

Reynolds: Calm down, K-Lo. Let H. R. Puffnstuff go.

Goldberg: Oh yeah? At least I'm not Jimmie, the magic flute!

Reynolds: Go ahead and cut his throat, K-Lo.

Althouse: Glenn! How will that look in The New York Times?

K-Lo: You guys, it's my turn to talk now. I hereby demand in the name of Pirate Law that you take this ship to Haiti so we can save the poor Haitites from their heathen gods, who are destroying the island in their wrath.

Malkin: K-Lo, you dolt, we are thirty feet under the ladies' washroom in the Lincoln Monument in Washington D.C. How did you even get here?

K-Lo: I'll have you know I got here entirely on my own, after Nanny dropped me off at the entrance and that nice young soldier walked me to the other entrance. Jonah was just coming out so I grabbed him and now you have to listen to me or I'll torture him, just like in my favorite tv show, "24," starring Kiefer Sutherland. I know how to torture because I practiced on Fluffy.

Althouse: You tortured your adorable little dog? That is so mean! And illegal, I think.

K-Lo: It's okay, Ann, I was just pretending. Fluffy was just yelping because I pinched his leg a little to make it more realistic. Mama took away my teeny little home-made electric brain frying machine.

Goldberg: (weakly) What the hell?

K-Lo: I made it with a lamp, magnets, some wire, and the little clips we use to keep the pretzel bags closed.

Malkin: I'm impressed.

McArdle: I'm not going to Haiti for my honeymoon, K-Lo. Forget it. Go ahead and kill Jonah.

Goldberg: Hey! What about my million dollar advance?

McArdle: It's not mine, is it?

Reynolds: K-Lo, I'm afraid to ask but why do you want to go to Haiti?

K-Lo: We have to rescue the heathen children from eternal damnation. Right now the Haiti-tian government is denying us our religious freedom to kidnap other people's' children when their country is hit by a natural disaster. If God didn't want them to convert, He wouldn't have destroyed their country, would he?

Goldberg: That's not a bad idea.

K-Lo: Oh, Jonah! Do you really think so or are you just saying that?

Goldberg: It would be a perfect time to create a libertarian utopia. No rules, nobody telling you what to do or what to wear, or to sit up straight and do your homework. God, I hate my wife. I mean my life.

K-Lo: Great!

K-Lo releases Jonah, who slowly backs away from her and stands behind Reynolds.

K-Lo: Now all we need is a boat and Nanny and we'll be all set to rescue orphans and establish free market capitalism! Megan, do you want to be in charge of all the money?

McArdle: Why, K-Lo, how magnanimous of you. I was just saying to Jonah that I wanted to be better friends--wait a second.

Reynolds: K-Lo, I just sent a message on my Blackberry to my Secret Boss, who promises to have a ship waiting for you by the time you get to the harbor. Now be a good girl and take charge of your new Pirate Vessel, while we all go home and hug our kids and kiss our wives good-bye.

K-Lo: Sure thing, Glenn. I know how hard it is to leave loved ones behind. I left Mama and Daddy behind in New York when I moved to DC. See you soon, everyone!

K-Lo leaves.

Althouse: I don't want to go to Haiti. I like to take pictures of reflections in mirrors and windows and all the glass in Haiti is broken. If you can't look into a mirror and see yourself, how do you know you're really there? Maybe you're the reflection and the real person is in the mirror. Maybe the person in the mirror is much happier than you are and has sex with famous politicians and gets her picture taken by other people instead of just taking pictures of herself taking pictures of herself taking---.

Reynolds: (interrupts) Go home, Ann. We don't need you for this mission anyway.

Althouse weaves her way to the exit.

McArdle: I don't want to go to Haiti either.

Reynolds: WE ARE NOT GOING TO HAITI!

Goldberg: Jesus, Glenn, you don't have to yell.

Reynolds: Goldberg, you complain that the city didn't fix your lights fast enough. McArdle, you figure out how much money the government wasted by paying people overtime to fix the lights they should have fixed themselves.

McArdle: Figure?

Reynolds: You, know, do the math.

McArdle: Math?

Reynolds: (hopefully) You remember, don't you, Megan? Two times three? The square root of the hypotenuse is something or other?

McArdle: It wasn't fashionable at my school to learn how to do math, Glenn. Everyone knows that.

Malkin: That explains a lot.

Reynolds: Just make something up.

McArdle: Say no more, old chap. I can take it from there.

Reynolds: Malkin, you continue pushing those tea parties. I know by the time you're done with them, they'll be primed to hang the first non-white person they see.

Malkin: Consider it done.

Malkin changes into a bat and flies towards the exit.

Reynolds takes out his cell phone and punches in a number.

Reynolds: They're gone. Send in The Boss.

A glow of unearthly light slowly fills the corridor. A woman's form approaches, radiating in the growing light. She sways slightly as her four-inch high heels slide on the slick floor. The apparition finally steps forward into the room. It is----Sarah Palin!

Reynolds: Sarah!

Reynolds kneels before her. Palin smiles beneficently on Reynolds.

Palin: You betcha!

THE END

God's Waiting Room

It's all Roy's fault that I was sucked into reading Rod Dreher. Dreher is so eager for Judgement that he has skipped living and gone straight to Purgatory, where he impatiently waits for the real suffering to begin.

Dreher waits for a financial Apocalypse. That'll teach the sinners. He does not mention how he and his fellow fundamentalists cheered Bush's every move, including the ones that set this apocalypse into motion.

Dreher is always concerned that everyone else isn't religious enough, so he can't rejoice that the US is more religious than Europeans without fretting that it isn't as religious as he is.

I mentioned in an earlier blog post how little I really know about megachurch Christianity, which is huge where I live, North Texas. If you don't live in Dallas or its environs, that's probably your stereotypical idea of what religion is like here. But unlike every other place I've lived, the Protestant mainline churches are still pretty vigorous, and well-attended. The gay MCC church is big. The largest mosque in Texas is here. And so on. Going to religious services is mainstream in the Dallas area in a way I've never seen elsewhere in America. Mind you, Dallas isn't representative of America, but I wonder if, on religious matters, it's true that Dallas is to America as America is to Europe.

Moving along, I think there may be less to this Godly America/Godless Europe thing. If it's true that the religion of America's tomorrow is Moralistic Therapeutic Deism, how much better off are we, anyway?

[snip]

Oh, we're all super-Jesus-y in the Dallas area, but the impression one is left with is that despite the megachurch religiosity regnant in the 'burbs, there's a deep hole people keep trying to fill with stuff, and with the manic pursuit of success.

Question: From a Christian point of view, is it better to live in a society where Christianity is virtually dead, replaced by secular materialism, or in a society where Christianity has been hollowed out by an emotionally satisfying but largely counterfeit version of the faith? Is it better to have nominal Christianity, or no Christianity at all? I don't think this is an easy question to answer. On the one hand, I was deeply impressed by Kierkegaard's "Attack Upon Christendom," in which he denounced the state Lutheran church as antithetical to real Christianity. His point, more or less, was that insofar as institutionalized Christianity leads people to believe that by going through the motions of a social Christianity, they have become true Christians, the experience of Christianity inoculates the individual against the real thing. On the other hand, the thought of raising my children in a place in which the Christian faith, or any religious faith, is largely alien to the community is troubling to me.

I'm utterly astonished that people like Dreher who use the Church to fill up the hole in their lives still feel a hole in their lives. You'd think that they were using the church to gain God's imaginary unconditional love, love they should have received from their parents but didn't. Or that imaginary unconditional love is not satisfying, and people come up with strange and bizarre (and deadly) ways to prove their own love in the hopes of getting love back. Such as finding ever-more restrictive religious practices and spending your life in a froth of fear that God will smite you dead any second for your sins, while haranguing everyone else for fear their sins will slop over onto you and you'll get killed in one of God's merciful acts of mass murder.

Then Dreher quotes Camile Paglia, which is two horrors in one paragraph.

You'll want to read Paglia's response, which ends with the line: "We're in a horrendous cultural vacuum because our status-besotted education industry is geared toward producing not original thinkers but docile creatures of the system."

This reminds me of something two childhood friends who went to the Ivies, but who spent a semester at LSU with me to qualify for a cheaper year-abroad program, said about going to the state school versus their Ivy (from which both graduated): that they got a lot more out of class at LSU because you actually got to interact with professors, and because the students didn't seem to have a sense of entitlement about being there.

Anyway, I liked this letter because what the letter-writer says is true, and because it also explains why so many people identify with Sarah Palin, despite everything. Understand me clearly: I think Sarah Palin is a fatally flawed vessel, and would be a terrible national leader. But please separate your thoughts and feelings about Palin long enough to understand why someone like Dave Livingston would identify with her, and come to loathe at least some of her critics. The Palin populist discerns, probably correctly, that much of the Palin hate is not only spite towards Palin herself, but spite towards a certain kind of American, and his tastes, his dreams, and his experiences. It is too bad, and maybe even a kind of tragedy, that Palin is personally not capable of sustaining the hope ordinary people put in her. Anyway, I know people can't talk about Palin anymore without going crazy, but Dave Livingston is worth listening to. I know a lot of people like him. He's why I wanted Sarah Palin so badly to be good, and was so disappointed when she wasn't.

Palin is stupid, greedy and superstitious. That is the basis of her tastes, dreams and experiences. Those who value superstition naturally want a leader like themselves, and unconsciously find reasons to ignore the stupid and greedy part of the equation. It's spite and elitist vanity that make liberals claim Palin is stupid and greedy, therefore conservatives can ignore everything they don't want to hear. (If they can't find a reason to ignore reality they just invent one, like socialism.)

The inevitable future of conservatism post is just funny. First Dreher sighs that he's been left out of the loop of a panel discussion on conservatism at Princeton. The panel worries that the rifts in conservatism have weakened it past repair. By "rifts" they mean that racism and religious fervor won't work anymore as demographics change, and conservative policy is no longer trusted. Dreher points to a "screed" by Freddie De Boer (is that Megan's Freddie?) that points out these inconvenient facts:

Everyone laments the Republican party's various failures, electoral or otherwise; no one is responsible for the Republican party. Everyone delights in the rank, unfocused and violent anger of the Tea Parties; no one will claim them as their own. What you have, ladies and gentlemen, is an ideology in a decaying orbit, an ideology that prides itself on insisting on personal responsibility as so many, thanks to their well-polished, phony individualisms, refuse to take any responsibility for the whole. Conservatism is drowning because so many say (as Conor Friedersdorf insists when I criticize him) "Hey, it's the OTHER conservatives who do THAT."

Dreher responds:

I have the sense that Freddie is kind of sort of onto something here, but I find it hard to say what, exactly, it is.

What a surprise. Dreher has a vague sense that there's a flaw in his own thinking, but can't quite pinpoint it.

I have said many times before that I was wrong about the Iraq War, and that I do feel responsible in some way for the failures of Republican governance, which I advocated for and voted for. Taking stock of those failures, and my failure of judgment, has made a big difference in my own politics. The extent to which I feel alienated from the conservative party in this country is the extent to which I don't believe its leaders and its mainstream have absorbed those lessons. But what does Freddie want from us? The mainstream GOP isn't interested in what conservative dissenters have to say; we're RINOs to them. We can't be liberals, because in the main, we don't believe what liberals do. What is "phony" about that? As someone who publicly broke with Bush over Katrina and Harriet Miers, I'm genuinely asking. Would Freddie have dissenting conservatives who backed Bush and the Bush-era GOP, but who now see the error of their (our) ways, spend the next few years doing nothing but atoning for our sins?

A devout Christian like Dreher will naturally think in terms of sin, confession and punishment. People like George Bush and Palin are sinners who failed Dreher and conservatism. Religion and conservatism didn't fail Dreher. He will not rethink any of his positions or assumptions and he immediately casts about for an excuse to change the subject.

Do liberals spend much time taking responsibility for the bad things that liberalism has wrought? I don't see it. If Freddie is saying that conservative writing and analysis today has to be done with the failures of conservative governance in front of mind, I've got no problem with that. Awareness of limitations and frailties makes for a more prudent and realistic politics. But surely he would expect the same thing from the left. On, for example, the gay marriage issue...[blah blah blah I'll spare you the rest].

He has confessed so what do you want, perpetual atonement? Don't be ridiculous. The matter is settled and over, the sin confessed and dismissed.

One of the things that finally got through to me, and turned me to the right, was realizing that the liberal ideals I prized had proved rather less successful in actuality, because liberals misunderstood human nature. I had to confront the unpleasant truth that actual human beings putting into practice what I believed to be true had not worked out so well.

Human nature is bad, people sin and fail, and God is necessary to maintain order and provide guard duty, punishment and reward. All Dreher needs to do is find another human who will never sin and fail him. And then another, and another, and another. It never even occurs to him that he could find what he's looking for within himself.

We Are All Victims Now

The little shop of horrors we call The Corner is obsessively discussing how Palin's abrupt quitting will benefit her in her future presidential run. These geniuses are utterly incapable of seeing the truth because the truth would reflect badly on them. They cheered and praised and supported a woman who was patently under qualified, and through sheer determination, they force the facts to support their prejudices and vanities.

Victor/Victoria Davis Hanson:

Conventional wisdom suggests that short-term the Palin decision was unwise— e.g., "quitter," unpredictable, sulking, etc.

[snip]

In other words, it doesn't matter that much what critics say, but — should she pursue politics — only what she does with her newfound time, especially if she travels widely, studies foreign policy, and helps galvanize the party base.

In the long run, she can lecture, earn a good income through speaking, develop a coterie of advisers and supporters, take care of her family, not have the constant political warring on all flanks, and invest time in reflecting and studying issues, visit the country, meet leaders, etc. She's not looking at 2012; but in eight years by 2016 she will be far more savvy, still young, and far more experienced. It matters not all that the Left writes her off as daffy, since they were going to do that whatever she did; the key is whether she convinces conservatives in eight year of travel and reflection that she's a charismatic Margaret Thatcher type heavyweight.

Kathryn "Prime of Miss Jean" Lopez:

Rather than just be a celebrity, this could be a real opportunity for her to show us her stuff — what's important to her, what she wants people to know about her, why we should pay attention to her, why we should consider her for the highest office in the land (after already gone with the cool dude with little national electoral experience — though in his case it was little experience, period). To get people to know her for something more than being Sarah!

I wouldn't be shocked though, if Palin on the National Scene, Act II, starts out low key, with some downtime. She needs to figure out what her voice is, where and how she can shine, and, most importantly, how she and her family can survive it and even flourish in the brutal world of politics. There's no question she has a gift. Now's the time to figure out how to be prudent with it.

Steve Hayward:

This could be, as Bill Kristol suggests, part of a risky but shrewd long game, not for a run in 2012, but way off in 2016 or 2020. Some folks have mentioned Nixon, rehabilitating himself in the 1960s, and skipping the 1964 election. She may have the self-awareness that she's taken big hits below the waterline, and that her best course is the patient rebuilding of her political life over a decade rather than the next two election cycles. Now she'll have the time to read and study and cultivate wider portfolio as Jonah and others have suggested. But even if she wants to run in 2012, it is certainly the case that it is hard to be a player on the national stage while being governor of Alaska since it is so remote, even in the jet age. (It take longer to get to Alaska than Europe from the east coast and midwest.) If so, she should say this openly. Make a virtue out of it.

Then, too, I wonder, and am slightly hopeful in fact, that she is indeed doing this for authentic family reasons. Political life is hell on decent family life. I have a hard time thinking of a single politician, at any level, who has a happy family life. Kids are usually a mess; non-messed up kids are the rare exception. Whenever I talk to someone about whether to run for any office, that's the first and last aspect I bring up. You shouldn't do it until your kids are grown or off to college is my opinion. This might really be a case of where she has reckoned the cost to her family of near-term political ambition, and chosen her family. Good for her if so.

Other members of the corner are less confident but still see Palin's move as advantageous to her eventually. They pay very little attention to rumors of ethics investigations and seem perfectly happy to accept any reason Palin gives them, no matter how illogical or rambling. Any leader will do for an authoritarian, and Palin can be easily replaced with somebody--anybody--else. Palin might be even more useful as a martyr than as an actual candidate. Mark Steyn:

Then suddenly you get the call from Washington. You know it'll mean Secret Service, and speechwriters, and minders vetting your wardrobe. But nobody said it would mean a mainstream network comedy host doing statutory rape gags about your 14-year old daughter. You've got a special-needs kid and a son in Iraq and a daughter who's given you your first grandchild in less than ideal circumstances. That would be enough for most of us. But the special-needs kid and the daughter and most everyone else you love are a national joke, and the PC enforcers are entirely cool with it.

Most of those who sneer at Sarah Palin have no desire to live her life. But why not try to - what's the word? - "empathize"? If you like Wasilla and hunting and snowmachining and moose stew and politics, is the last worth giving up everything else in the hopes that one day David Letterman and Maureen Dowd might decide Trig and Bristol and the rest are sufficiently non-risible to enable you to prosper in their world? And, putting aside the odds, would you really like to be the person you'd have to turn into under that scenario?

Poor, poor Palin, forced to parade her pregnant daughter and special-needs baby before the public as instant, photographic proof of her fundamentalist bona fides. How could the public do that to her? She's a victim, just as they are all victims, under constant attack by society. Helpless and weak, needing guns and police and armies to save them from the bad men who live in the shadows.

Frightened children, who would do or say anything to keep lying their comfortable, soothing lies.