It iseasy to lampoon Maureen Dowd when she churns out her usual nutty brew of redonkulosity. But our work becomes ever so slightly more difficult when she types an "acceptable column." And it is nearly impossible to make fun of her when she writes a genuinely good column, the kind that is actually about politics and actually about something important. Which brings us to the Legend of the Guardians: Tony Blair Is A Fo'ol. (10,000 BONUS POINTS FOR MODO-ESQUE IRRELEVANT POP CULTURE PUN!!!!1!!!!1!!!!)

Here is an Unusually Lengthy (but "Fair Use") Excerpt from Our Lady of the Occasional Lucidity's essay on T.B. (the ex-prime minister, not the gross disease that will soon kill everyone not already eaten by the BedBugs):

Even in the thick of a historical tragedy, Tony Blair never seemed like a Shakespearean character. He’s too rabbity brisk, too doggedly modern. The most proficient spinner since Rumpelstiltskin lacks introspection. The self-described "manipulator" is still in denial about being manipulated.

The Economist’s review of A Journey, the new autobiography of the former British prime minister, says it sounds less like Disraeli and Churchill and more like "the memoirs of a transatlantic business tycoon."

Yet in the section on Iraq, Blair loses his C.E.O. fluency and engages in tortured arguments, including one on how many people really died in the war, and does a Shylock lament.

Look at those Shakespeare references! And they make sense, too! Also, that Rumpelstiltskin turn of phrase was quite effective. (Incidentally, when it is 1983 and you are playing King's Quest I and you encounter the gnome, you have to tell him that his name is the less-popular Rumplestiltskin, only spelled backwards. You're welcome.)

Anyway, there's really just one moment in MoDo's latest missive that causes a bit of confusion in the non-addlepated reader: "Maybe Blair should have realized the destructive Oedipal path W. was on. At their first meeting at Camp David, W. screened 'Meet the Parents.'"

MoDo Cliffs Notes: the author's point in referring to the myth of Oedipus is that W. is doing the same thing his father did. W. fighting The Iraq is to Oedipus fucking his mom as GHWB fighting The Iraq is to Oedipus' dad fucking Oedipus' mom. High school seniors, cut and paste that previous sentence and submit it as your very first AP Lit essay. You will get so many straight A's and probably a full scholarship to Catholic University, where you can walk in MoDo's steps and quote Shakespeare while swilling gin and fighting off the advances of those who would seek to despoil your ginger-wreath'd maidenhead.

Sara Benincasa is so confused when Maureen Dowd writes something "good," that we're probably going to require a substitute subject on those rare days ... maybe a review of the TeeVee Listings? Or the tragic classifieds ("Work Wanted," "Old People For Sale," etc.) from a suburban newspaper?