The events that have since overtaken Haggard do indeed bear the distinct imprint of what creationists call the argument from design. What more perfectly appointed doom could there be for an evangelical preacher than that he be revealed as a drug-snorting patron of male whores? Haggard, his ministry in ruins, was last seen emerging from three weeks of faith-based counseling with the declaration that he was now “completely heterosexual.” The infidel Dawkins has meanwhile sailed into riches and best-sellerdom. Even Mike Jones, the escort with whom Haggard shared his meth-romps, looks set to have a hit this summer with his upcoming kiss-and-tell I Had to Say Something: The Art of Ted Haggard’s Fall (Seven Stories). “My muscles seemed to be my biggest attraction,” writes Jones. “Until I took off my pants.” Truly, the Lord works in mysterious fucking ways.
That just might be the best quote I've ever pasted into a blog form.
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