There is a columnist, Mark Morford, who writes for the SFGate, home of the San Francisco Chronicle. He is, as you might guess, a fervent admirer of His O'liness. His February 27 column is here.

Let me give you a few of his insights and a tour of one of the looniest of the soi disant respectable moonbat caves.

The good news is, the Obamafied bliss is still out there, still swirling, still waiting to be supped like a fine digestif. At any given moment you can, if you so choose, pause in whatever it is you're suffering from and hear that voice and see his visage or perhaps merely hear some pundit say the words "President Obama" out loud, and you can still enjoy that delicious chill, that little jolt that says, "Oh my God, did we really do it? Is that lucid, impeccably centered man really the leader of the free world?"

Feeling a little queasy right now?

You can even take it a tiny step further. You can, as I recently did, glance up at the screen during Obama's congressional address and see not only a young, composed, African American president speaking to the populace in more thoughtful, articulate language than we've heard in a decade, but also note that he happens to be surrounded by a female Speaker of the House and a female Secretary of State and a smart, funny VP who, refreshingly, is not a sneering warmongering torture fanatic who enjoys sucking the blood from live baby sharks.

I suppose that the VP he means is Dick Cheyne. If he ate sharks we would not worry about Chuck Schumer.

Mr. Morford enriches us further with

It is, by every estimation, the biggest political and fiscal gamble in a generation, maybe five. It is dicey and dangerous and wildly progressive in scope and ambition, and you know this is true because many bitter, unloved Republicans are seething and whining and tearing into every Obama idea they can find, simply because said plans don't do enough to fellate the wealthy and worship oil companies and ignore children.

Mr. Morford has several references to sex, including that all-important accusation of homophobia, which to a moonbat like Mr. Morford, means anyone who is not willing to, er, do him.

... So far, all polls indicate that President Obama's potent speech hit all the right notes and set the stage for the Grand Transformation. He has widespread support even among moderate conservatives [what color is the sky in your world, Markie?], many of whom now appear to trust a Democratic president even more than they trust their beloved banks and megacorporations. Which is a bit like devout Catholics saying hey, you know what? The pope really is an insidious relic. That Buddha guy? He might be on to something.

To some people this may sound trenchant. Joseph Epsteins said that Julian Barnes' major flaw was being too clever. Mr. Morford can't see even that high.

And in the wind-up, we are given this from his heaving breast and his flushed face:

This seems to be the bottom line, at least for now. We have, for the first time in just about forever, an enormously ambitious, confident, risk-taking president so full of grand and even borderline radical ideas they barely fit into a single generation, much less a single speech, and we have him at a time when we need, well, someone exactly like that.


That he just so happens to be tremendously intelligent, progressive, serene as an oak tree and utterly magnetizing? I guess you just call that a bonus.

Not much to add to that, for the diagnosis writes itself.