Pat's Prayer

Before proceeding to this week's subject I should mention two things. I was viewing the news from Pakistan. It was the day the protesters seemed to consist mainly of lawyers. Having heard protesters of a different time and place as belonging to the "counter-culture", I couldn't help wondering if these well-dressed rebels would constitute Pakistan's "counter-counter culture."
Norman Mailer passed away over the weekend. I was too young to understand some of his novels fully, but learned quite a bit from his personal accounts of war protests, political conventions and boxing. He understood Ali long before the sports writers had a clue, and his writing about Nixon was irreplaceable.

If you were a fly on the wall of Pat Robertson's bedroom, you might hear something like this:
"Lord, it's me, Pat. It's time for our daily meeting. I know some people call it prayer, but you and I have been tight for so long I just think 'meeting' says it better. I don't hear anything, so I'll just assume you're listening.
At your instruction I have invested in wars, tragedies and catastrophes. Thanks Lord. It's been such a bonanza that our fundraising budget can be cut 10% and replaced by my own brand of TV blather that the little people have come to love so much.
You wanted to know about that Giuliani thing? Sure, Lord. Now stick with me a minute here. I actually thought you might wonder how I, your, ah, partner, could endorse someone for president who has no religious thoughts or qualifications whatever, who is a terrible human being and the worst family man who has ever lived. You might ask why not endorse that Huckleberry fellow from Arkansas or that holier-than-thou Brownback, though he gave up, so I was right in not backing him. Romney? Hey, Lord I figured he already had way more blessings than he was entitled to just by being so rich. Anyway, being governor of Massachusetts isn't so bad, is it? I know his term is over, but the Red Sox won another World Series and the Patriots may never lose again! Anyway, those Mormons think they know you better than I do. I just can't have that. I don't know why they don't all just stay in that Utah desert, or whatever they call it.
Anyway, Lord, here's my thinking on Rudy. He's going to owe us BIG TIME. All I need from you is a little help pushing some of the brothers my way. No! Not brothers. We'll never get any of them. I mean the other kingmaker/clergy guys like Dobson and, uh, anyone else that hasn't got themselves in trouble doing those nasty things. Bauer? Yeah, I almost forget him. OK, I'll let Keyes on too, but only if he promises to keep quiet. We can't have too many Catholics, or there goes the South, ya know? We'll jump on a stage together with Giuliani. It will be the greatest thing in New York since they organized the Five Families.
Wham! Hilary won't know what hit her. Next thing you know it'll be MORNING IN AMERICA all over again, and I, I mean we, can get down to getting rid of that inheritance tax forever. I promise to double investments in the big bomb makers and private armies and we'll drive the libs right out of town. Hell, maybe I'll BUY me a private army. Sorry, Lord. I just get so excited working with you.
That's all I've got tonight. I knew you'd come around when I explained it. Yeah, same time tomorrow night. Tell Jerry Falwell hi for me. Hey, you don't think "Giuliani" sounds too much like 'jew something', do you? I'm just trying to keep all those good Republicans down South, you know. 'Night."