Expulsion

Last Saturday night, The Kenosha Kid invited the divine watertiger and me to a talk by Richard Dawkins at one of the high temples of Liberal Elitism, the Society for Ethical Culture. This is the kind of place, along with BAM and the sculpture garden at MOMA, that sends the Joe Scarboroughs of the world into paroxysms of spittle-flecked rage, so what else could I do but go? (Of course Joe's got a place right down the street from Ethical Culture, but I digress...)

I enjoyed the lecture, which was attended by 850 other DFHs (think about that -- 850 people lined up down the block to listen to talk by an evolutionary biologist on a Saturday night), despite the little spat reporting about it set off at Eschaton. I'll be honest. I didn't know much about Dawkins save that he'd written a book that was provoking fits in the faithful. That and the venue were good enough reasons for me to cancel my plan to jet to Lake Como with Mr. Clooney, but I digress...

So I've spent the last few days (and nights, as a spate of insomnia plagues me) clicking around the web reading about Dawkins and thinking about adding The God Delusion to the stack next to my bed. Meanwhile, via James Wolcott, I'm treated to a rather interesting and amusing anecdote in which the good professor makes an appearance. After you read it, watch this and note the characteristic wingnut victimology theme delivered in the inimitable nasal drone of a Richard Nixon apologist who's made millions selling himself as one of the smartest guys in the room.