Switch-hitting

Sometimes, coming up with scribblin' material would be a lot easier if I were a snarky lefty. Take last night's Freedom Club dinner for instance.

The event took place at a bucolic country club in a toney suburb known for its wealth (though hardly a bastion of conservatism these days). You could hardly dream up a more elite, exclusive setting.

The attendees were for the most part middle-aged monied white people in business attire. Drawing broad caricatures about the crowd's privilege, status, and class would be child's play. The fact that the Freedom Club is a rather mysterious organization only adds to the image of the group as a powerful conservative cabal.

The evening's program began with a singing of the National Anthem while the crowd faced a HUGE American flag. It was followed up by with a recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance led by a Marine Corps Colonel. Jingoism, nationalism, lazy comparisons to fascist iconography? A lefty would be soaking in it. Or soaking it in.

Then an invocation by a Christian pastor. No equivalent prayer from a imam, rabbi, Buddhist monk, or Wiccan priestess. Theocracy and Christianism are a couple of words that come easily to mind.

Finally, the main event, a hateful fear-mongering diatribe delivered by yet another pasty-faced white bloke. Your average lefty blogger would probably have wet his pants over having so many rich targets of opportunity to snark on.

Of course, since I swing from the right side of the political plate, all I saw was a group of successful, happy, God-fearing, patriotic people getting together to hear one of the wittiest, most clear-headed pundits on the planet deliver an oft-humorous, yet deadly serious address on the possible end of the world as we know it. Since it's quite impossible to relate the genius of Mark Steyn, I'll just advise that if you ever get a chance to hear the man speak in person, don't miss it.

Others in attendance included a number of pols, prominent business leaders, a local humorist of some note (and his charming wife, whom I had the distinct pleasure of sitting next to at dinner), Scott Johnson and his sidekick from Power Line, the power couple of the local posse comitatus, and even an unleashed canine.

Here's a picture of the man of the evening and yours truly (a little Soviet style revisionist cropping was necessary to remove Saint Paul's eyes wide shut mug from the frame). Notice that I once again sport a full mouth of choppers. My new toof was only implanted a few hours before yesterday's event and for a while I feared that I might have a Krameresque AMCA experience when I met Mr. Steyn, but fortunately the 'caine wore off just in time. I am proud to say that I am no longer a toothless, slaw-jacked yokel. [insert joke at my expense here]