See that nondescript black-and-white blur in the center of the photo? Why, it's none other than Institute of Marriage and Public Policy president, conservative columnist, and payola-taking shrew Maggie Gallagher!

I will say two things about her physical appearance*: 1) this broad is proof of physiognomy and 2) she is very, very short.

She was sporting an insouciant flapper hairdo, a white mink stole, and a surprisingly low-rent black dress. I noticed the tag was sticking out of the back while she was hunched over her dinner plate. She didn't even put her fork down when the founder of the organization gave his speech. And she ducked out of the room after quickly laying waste to the filet mignon before the keynote speaker stood up.

Oh, wait, I'm forgetting the entertainment for the evening: a HI-larious (Saltpetre! Har! I swear to Christ I have never felt so white) performance of...wait for it..."Sit Down, John," from 1776. (I love how the conservatives fancy themselves the [literal AND philosophical] descendants of the founding fathers. And they got lucky--1776 is quite possibly the least gay musical ever conceived.)

The one good thing about the Right Wing: They know how to party. Open top-shelf bar all night (which we all took advantage of, although the waitstaff also made certain that our wine glasses were never empty), after-dinner drinks, cigars, Thai hookers (ha! kidding). I was so plowed by the musical interlude I made several vain attempts to dance a jig on the table, but N dutifully pulled me down into my chair every time.

But back to the unsinkable Maggie Gallagher. When she ditched the dinner during the keynote speech, I assumed that she had to leave early so that she could go defend marriage somewhere. But after dinner, when we all retired to the lobby to throw back more gratis scotch, there she was, chatting amiably with some poor soul, with her silver platform shoes in her hand. Classy! (Incidentally, those shoes added about 4 inches to her diminuitive height, which I'm guessing is around 4'6.) And that damned tag was STILL sticking out of her dress.

I wanted to walk up behind her, tuck it in, and whisper gently into her ear: With all that money you got from the Bush administration, you should really be shopping someplace nicer than Fashion Bug.

*Because, as we know, mocking someone's weight is the lowest form of humor, glass houses, hallelujah, etc.