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Peggy Noonan is a loon

Peggy Noonan

Via James Wolcott, this is Peggy Noonan's latest Opinion Journal piece. The good parts, anyway.

People are complicated. You can hit distracted people with all the propaganda in the world, you can give it to them every day in all your media, and sometimes they'll even tell pollsters they agree with you. But something is always going on in their chests. Some truth is known there; some yearning lives there. It's like they have a compass in their hearts and turn as they will, this way and that, it continues to point to true north.

We want a spiritual father ... We want him to be standing up there on the balcony. We want to aspire to it, reach to it, point to it and know that it is there.

Because we can actually tell what's true.

We can just somehow tell.

We are living in a time of supernatural occurrences. The old pope gives us his suffering as a parting gift, says his final goodbye on Easter Sunday; dies on the vigil of Feast of the Divine Mercy, the day that marks the messages received by the Polish nun, now a saint, who had written that a spark out of Poland would light the world and lead the way to the coming of Christ. The mourning period for the old pope ends on the day that celebrates St. Stanislas, hero of Poland, whose name John Paul had thought about taking when he became pope.

Note: it really is no fair acting like the fact that it happens to be a Saint's day is some kind of crazy coincidence; anyone familiar with the Catholic Church knows that they celebrate an average of about 13.5 saints per goddamn day. I'm not kidding.

I especially like how it's supposed to make us gasp because the pope died on a day that celebrates someone whose name he thought about taking. Didn't actually take it, mind you, but he fucking thought about it, man. Eerie.

But more importantly: the pope's suffering was his 'parting gift'? What the fuck are you talking about?


It is an age of miracles and wonders, of sightings of Mary and warnings, of prophecy, graces and gifts.

The choosing of Benedict XVI, a man who is serious, deep and brave, is a gift. He has many enemies ... They want to make sure no one gets a chance to love him ...

They want to make sure that when he speaks and writes, the people of the world won't come running.

What to do to help? See his enemies for what they are, and see him for what he is. Read him--he is a writer, a natural communicator of and thinker upon challenging ideas. Listen to him. Consult your internal compass as you listen, and see if it isn't pointing true north.

I had a dream a while back. It was many years from now. Peggy Noonan and I were in heaven, trading bong hits, and she told me every time she submitted her latest column to Opinion Journal, she was sure it would be the one that got her found her out.

"I mean, come the fuck on," she said. "Consult your internal compass as you listen, and see if it isn't pointing true north?!?!? It is an age of miracles and wonders, of sightings of Mary and warnings, of prophecy, graces and gifts?!?!? I can't believe those assholes actually let me write that shit in their newspaper, let alone pay me six figures to do so!"

"I mean, they did realize that I was usually writing these columns three days deep into a sleepless crank binge, right? That was obvious, wasn't it?"

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