Imagine. Being able to summon the creator of the Universe and “secure” forgiveness from this God,  this Grandfather Almighty, this Destroyer of Worlds, this Raving Lunatic  up in the sky who can’t decide whether to kill us all because we had fun with the penis, or forgive us because we made a ton of money.

John Edwards gets both ends of the deal. First, God was going to sizzle him into ash with a lightning strike on the golf course, but then decided to forgive him after Edwards showed up in a moving van full of greenbacks and a $400 haircut. God was impressed. This guy really made a lot of money. If he’s forgiven, he can make more money which of course is God’s plan for all of us. The $400 dollar haircut, which looks no worse or no  better than the one you can get trackside sitting in a lawn chair at a drag race, passes God’s muster, although he did think Edwards could use a few highlights here and there. Not trusting a guy who sends his only son to the cleaners, Edwards locked in  the forgiveness of God by working out the terms of the agreement in his head. Once Edwards had “secured the forgiveness of his Lord”, it was time to meet his other “maker”, the maker of the babies.

His wife.

Dying of breast cancer, Elizabeth Edwards has more on her mind than the Garmin device attached to her husband’s wee- wee.  Still, fooling around on the campaign trail with a once a week hair and nail appointment Beverly Hills barracuda must drum up the same feelings Vlad the Impaler had when he planted human bodies on steel spikes in his vegetable garden up in the Ural mountains.

We haven’t seen Elizabeth since all this paternity pap blew goo all over America’s high definition hallucination of being  righteous and God fearing when seeking the highest office in the land. She’s too busy figuring out which stable of spike heeled West Coast botox  beach queens he’ll choose to raise the kids once she’s airborne. And with another dependent warming up in the bull pen along with his mom, Liz figures John’s fate on the mound has already been foretold. Granting him forgiveness is the least she can do to shut him up and send him down to the minors.

John Edwards has signed on to drink with the rest of the forgotten wanna-be King of the Rings too uppity to know that dropping your pants in public at 3 in the morning in a hotel in Beverly Hills only pays off if you’re an actor or a rock star. A fact that politicians, no matter how hot they think they are, just can’t seem to grasp as well as they can the art of the con job they practice so well on all the rest of us while getting bagged themselves by an even more accomplished grifter.