By Mark Steyn
To get the obvious
out of the way: I loathe John Edwards. I loathe him as a slick
ambulance-chasing trial lawyer, as a preening poseur of a presidential
candidate, as a multi-bazillionaire "advocate" for "the
poor," as a third-rate sob sister peddling faux-Dickensian guff about
entirely mythical "coatless girls" lying in their beds shivering at
night because their father was laid off at the mill. I loathe everything about
him except his angled nape, which I must concede, having been pressed up
against it in a campaign crush in New Hampshire, is a thing of beauty, and well
worth every penny of whatever Rachel Mellon paid for it.