We’ve had a wonderful year with our favorite columns-writer-of, Peggy Noonan — maybe because, in our hearts, we knew this day was coming, this declaration to end all declarations. And here, today, we have our reward, our moment of grace. As usual, as always, our Peggy doesn’t bother with tired old introductions and such — this is, after all, a woman who burst into Bloomingdale’s and demanded pen and paper, one day, when she chanced upon a Mexican. Instead, she drops the bomb we always expected, like this: “The case for Barack Obama, in broad strokes:” And then she makes her case, which contains the most delightfully cruel assessment of John McCain’s delusional character we’ve even encountered.
The case for Peggy’s latest weird column, in pointer-finger bullet points:
- Those who have historically been sympathetic to the Republican Party or conservatism, and who support Barack Obama — Colin Powell, William Weld and Charles Fried, among others — and whose arguments have not passed muster with some muster-passers, go undamned here.
- [McCain] is passionate, obstreperous, independent, sees existential fables within history. His self-confessed role model for many years was Robert Jordan in Ernest Hemingway’s novel of the Spanish Civil War, “For Whom the Bell Tolls.” Mr. McCain, in his last memoir: “He was and remains to my mind a hero for the twentieth century . . . an idealistic freedom fighter” who had “a beautiful fatalism” and who sacrificed “for something else, something greater.” Actually Jordan fought on the side of the communists and died pointlessly, but never mind.
- And now look, the black man thanking Alabama for his victory.
- A great moment: When the press was hitting hard on the pregnancy of Sarah Palin’s 17-year-old daughter, he did not respond with a politically shrewd “I have no comment,” or “We shouldn’t judge.” Instead he said, “My mother had me when she was 18,” which shamed the press and others into silence. He showed grace when he didn’t have to.
- Eras end, and begin. “God is in charge of history.” And so my beautiful election ends.
Give her FIVE AND A HALF Pulitzers! And somebody refresh her drink, for god’s sake. These highballs don’t make themselves.