The Funniest Richard Cohen in the Portion of America Currently Occupied by Richard Cohen

America's next top model, Richard Cohen, cannot decide about torture. He expounds upon his own moral imagination, which wouldn't be up to the task of determining the rightness of making adolescent soccer teams shake hands after a game, and condemns anyone who's passed more than four or five fruitless seconds considering the moral nature of torture as "ideological," a word that, like so many others, means something different within the headquarters of the Washington Post than it does without. Whatevs. I am willing to believe that in certain Washingtonian corridors, there are powerful people who might read and be swayed by your perseverating Krauthammers, your pedantic George Wills, your earnest El Kruggos, your high-heeled, low-minded Dowds, but I do not believe anyone cares about Cohen. Recall he is the guy who wrote a whole dream-sequence ballet scene for the MGM musical that is his life about how he didn't interview the President. So, you know, natch.

If you can't say unequivocally that torture is wrong, then you can't say that anything is wrong. Moral relativism alarm, woo-ah-woo-ah! I eagerly await Richard Cohen's next thinkulation: "Contract Murder, But Does It Work?" In any case, Cohen is guilty of crimes against Herman Melville, and I will personally not pay any money at all to the first person who kidnaps Richard Cohen, ties him to the back of a sperm whale, and sends the fucker down. Then all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago.