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Authors: Richard North Patterson
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them."
"There's also soccer moms," Marotta responded. "The suburban moderates—the ones who deserted us in droves in the last congressional elections. Strangely enough, they're still looking for a 'kinder, gentler' party than the one you have in mind."
"That's what black Republicans like Cortland Lane are for," Price replied. "You put them in the cabinet—not because black voters will love us, but because it makes white folks of good intentions
feel
so much better. And, once again, it's
free
.
"Though they're a problem, middle-of-the-roaders are still eclipsed by conservative Christians, especially in Republican primaries." Turning to Rohr, Price asked, "You know what the most accurate predictor of voting was in the last two presidential elections?"
Rohr shrugged. "Illiteracy?"
Chuckling, Price shook his head. "Religion. Two-thirds of regular church attendees voted for us. You're not gonna win elections if all you've got is atheists and agnostics. And
I,
to my lasting credit, figured that out in the 1970s.
"Thirty years ago, Alex, conservative Christians were like a seven-foot-tall basketball player with no experience—scary in their potential, but not a real factor in the game. They didn't even vote. But I could see all that potential—if I could persuade the party to reach out to them, we'd change the game entirely." Turning to Marotta now, he said, "Back in South Carolina when I was a kid, the rich folks got the votes of poor whites by pitting them against the blacks. But racism became less cool—blacks started voting, so establishment whites had to pick their spots and speak in racial code. But I ..." Here Price paused, holding one finger in the air, "_I,_ Magnus Price, figured out a whole new and more uplifting way to reach out to ordinary white folks—by signing up their God. Now Christian conservatives are over forty percent of the entire electorate. And
we're
still sitting in the catbird seat unless Christy fucks it up."
Rohr frowned. "How, exactly, can this clown accomplish
that
?"
"Because the whole design depends on keeping Christian conservatives and capitalists like you united. That's the beauty of Rob Marotta's candidacy—he shares your beliefs while being genuinely religious.
"But Christy sees a contradiction: entrepreneurs like you live off the 'debased popular culture' he rails against on television. That's why his speech tonight made me shiver." Price paused, his expression hard. "If Christy runs for president, it'll be mammon versus morality—our nightmare scenario. If Christy beats Rob in the primaries, he'll lose the general election—most voters still won't go for President Elmer Gantry. But even if Rob beats Christy, the party's gonna be divided ..."
"I'll beat Christy," Marotta told him. "And with all due respect, I'd do that with or without the two of you."
"Today you would," Price shot back. "But suppose fucking Al Qaeda blows up Notre Dame stadium at halftime?
That
could unleash a craziness only God could fix. And God, as we know, speaks through the Reverend Christy—"
"So how do we keep him from running?" Rohr interrupted.
"By anointing Rob—endorsements, favorable polling, pledges from donors, the whole drumbeat of inevitability." Price placed a friendly hand on Marotta's shoulder. "_And_ by reminding Christian conservatives that Rob's as committed to them as Christy is. That means fighting gay marriage, promoting prayer in school, and promising judges who know that 'our rights came from God Almighty.' Then we can float the message that the presidency isn't an entry-level job. Trust me, a lot of other evangelists will be glad to hop on board."
"Why?" Rohr asked.
"Think
they
want their chief competitor in the religion-for-profit game to become the president of the United States? They'll help spread our message: 'Bob's running to expand his mailing list,' or 'Bob's confusing himself with God,' or 'What does Bob know about dropping the hammer on fucking Iran?'
"We need
"There's also soccer moms," Marotta responded. "The suburban moderates—the ones who deserted us in droves in the last congressional elections. Strangely enough, they're still looking for a 'kinder, gentler' party than the one you have in mind."
"That's what black Republicans like Cortland Lane are for," Price replied. "You put them in the cabinet—not because black voters will love us, but because it makes white folks of good intentions
feel
so much better. And, once again, it's
free
.
"Though they're a problem, middle-of-the-roaders are still eclipsed by conservative Christians, especially in Republican primaries." Turning to Rohr, Price asked, "You know what the most accurate predictor of voting was in the last two presidential elections?"
Rohr shrugged. "Illiteracy?"
Chuckling, Price shook his head. "Religion. Two-thirds of regular church attendees voted for us. You're not gonna win elections if all you've got is atheists and agnostics. And
I,
to my lasting credit, figured that out in the 1970s.
"Thirty years ago, Alex, conservative Christians were like a seven-foot-tall basketball player with no experience—scary in their potential, but not a real factor in the game. They didn't even vote. But I could see all that potential—if I could persuade the party to reach out to them, we'd change the game entirely." Turning to Marotta now, he said, "Back in South Carolina when I was a kid, the rich folks got the votes of poor whites by pitting them against the blacks. But racism became less cool—blacks started voting, so establishment whites had to pick their spots and speak in racial code. But I ..." Here Price paused, holding one finger in the air, "_I,_ Magnus Price, figured out a whole new and more uplifting way to reach out to ordinary white folks—by signing up their God. Now Christian conservatives are over forty percent of the entire electorate. And
we're
still sitting in the catbird seat unless Christy fucks it up."
Rohr frowned. "How, exactly, can this clown accomplish
that
?"
"Because the whole design depends on keeping Christian conservatives and capitalists like you united. That's the beauty of Rob Marotta's candidacy—he shares your beliefs while being genuinely religious.
"But Christy sees a contradiction: entrepreneurs like you live off the 'debased popular culture' he rails against on television. That's why his speech tonight made me shiver." Price paused, his expression hard. "If Christy runs for president, it'll be mammon versus morality—our nightmare scenario. If Christy beats Rob in the primaries, he'll lose the general election—most voters still won't go for President Elmer Gantry. But even if Rob beats Christy, the party's gonna be divided ..."
"I'll beat Christy," Marotta told him. "And with all due respect, I'd do that with or without the two of you."
"Today you would," Price shot back. "But suppose fucking Al Qaeda blows up Notre Dame stadium at halftime?
That
could unleash a craziness only God could fix. And God, as we know, speaks through the Reverend Christy—"
"So how do we keep him from running?" Rohr interrupted.
"By anointing Rob—endorsements, favorable polling, pledges from donors, the whole drumbeat of inevitability." Price placed a friendly hand on Marotta's shoulder. "_And_ by reminding Christian conservatives that Rob's as committed to them as Christy is. That means fighting gay marriage, promoting prayer in school, and promising judges who know that 'our rights came from God Almighty.' Then we can float the message that the presidency isn't an entry-level job. Trust me, a lot of other evangelists will be glad to hop on board."
"Why?" Rohr asked.
"Think
they
want their chief competitor in the religion-for-profit game to become the president of the United States? They'll help spread our message: 'Bob's running to expand his mailing list,' or 'Bob's confusing himself with God,' or 'What does Bob know about dropping the hammer on fucking Iran?'
"We need
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