Our own Roy Moore

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In this world, there is crazy. And there is crazy.

Crazy is thinking Ariana Grande has a better voice than Whitney Houston.

Crazy is enjoying the Whopper over a legit steak.

Crazy is vacationing in Ft. Lauderdale when Rome was available.

But crazy is a different level altogether. Crazy is Roy Moore thinking God sent him to govern. Crazy is Roy Moore thinking God sent him to govern—then, after losing an election, believing God’s will simply can’t be ignored. Crazy is thinking gays are damned to hell, blacks shouldn’t enjoy equal rights, education needs to start with the Bible. On and on and on.

Although they will not say so aloud, I’ve met a growing number of Southern California Republicans who think Dana Rohrabacher is crazy. Not crazy racist or crazy homophobic—crazy like the guy who thinks his slippers speak Spanish and his dog is a potted plant. And, really, how can’t they? Rohrabacher’s stances these days aren’t merely far right or far left. They’re pure wackadoo. He is a man, remember, who started as a Ronald Reagan speechwriter, which means his hero was as anti-Russia as they come.

But now, in full view, Rohrabacher can’t help but spew his pro-Russia propaganda. He doesn’t even do so in full sentences, oft opting for utterances, stammered half-phrases, grunts and grumbles.

I do not wish bad upon the man.

But he’s crazy.

Wait, no.

Crazy.

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