First of all, nobody blogging in the English language holds a candle to James Wolcott of Vanity Fair. The fact that he treats us to a near-daily helping of his delicious prose is one of life's gentle hugs, never mind that I care not one lick for half the topics he covers.
Most recently, Mr. Wolcott lays waste to the dramatist undercurrent of the self-important Obama supporters. His issue is not with all Obama supporters, mind you, just the ones worshiping the graven images within Obama's cult of personality. Saint Barack of the Transcendent Hope has got himself a loyal posse of Messiah seekers.
Read it yourself-- it is choice.