God exists.

I am so utterly amazed that I'm at a loss for words, but that's okay because The Poor Man already said it. I've not written a word about the Jeff Gannon story except for one mention, on January 28th. I listed him as a possible fourth point in an emerging straight line that included Armstrong Williams, Maggie Gallagher, and Michael McManus, a line that was clearly composed of journalists who were de facto employees of the White House. Now, this was about a day after David Brock first posted anything about Jeff Gannon. We didn't even know he was really James Guckert yet. All most of us knew about him was that he was a baldheaded guy who asked questions like, "Youguysrockyouguysrockyouguysrock, do you have a comment?"

I called that post "Whores".

You cannot imagine how badly my sides hurt right now. Nor can you imagine how badly I wish I had written this post. I didn't, but godamighty:

CORRECTION: Hacktacular White House reporter Jeff Gannon is not, in fact, a man-pimp, as we had previously reported. He is actually a self-pimping e-he-whore. (Link not safe for work, or dinner.) The Editors apologize to Mr. Gannon for the error.

Everyone is still missing the point of the story. The story is not, as nitwits like Howie Kurtz maintain, that people are being mean to someone just because he's conservative. The story is not that Gannon is a hypocrite for promoting an anti-gay agenda. The story is not even that the White House gave such access to a reporter for a dummy news service operating under an assumed name, and may have used him to expose Valerie Plame. This is not the story.

The story is that God exists.

Think about it: what are the chances that a media whore like Gannon would turn out to be an actual whore? It's impossible. It boggles the mind how infinitely unlikely this is. It's like if you found someone pirating CDs, and it turns out he actually had a peg leg and a parrot on his shoulder and sailed around the Caribbean saying "arrrrrr!" and plundering booty. You wouldn't believe it. But there it is: impossible, but true. Impossible truths are miracles, and only God can work miracles. Ergo, God exists. Q.E.D.

I feel like a minor prophet. Thank God (yes, You) that I've been hedging my bets and calling myself agnostic for lo these many years. If you follow the links up there, you will find yourself in naked man porno land. To be specific, you will find yourself in hire you a naked man porno land, and to be more specific still, hire you a naked James Guckert porno land. I'll tell you now, even as a straight man: James Guckert was hot back in the day. I'd look twice.

Now the websites? Hell, I don't give a good godda--, uh, I mean, I don't care at all that the internet - WHICH IS FOREVER - has all these archives of his websites back when he was, uh, open for business as a "part-time Marine." I have friends with pictures like that on the internet. Sometimes they're football players in the pictures. Whatever. I have friends that have been prostitutes. Not my scene exactly, and it isn't like they're proud of it, but we're all still friends and it just isn't my place to judge, so I don't. 'Course they ain't working for the folks what rode homos-is-icky to federal incumbenthood and are appointing, you know, judges. So, apples and oranges.

All the same, if I had written this as a short story, the tale would have been dismissed by any critic worth his pen as pedantic, overwrought, and too improbably perfect to be even remotely believable. You'd have thought it; I'd have thought it. And yet, and yet, oh my dear sweet Jesus, and yet it happened. Just a closer walk with thee. Was blind, but now I see. Praise the Lord.