Glenn Beck's unhinged Sweater saga

Knit Twit Dept.
By MIKE MILIARD  |  November 24, 2009

Pudgy lunatic Glenn Beck has crafted a new piece of spoken performance, an "intimate journey of transformation," called The Christmas Sweater: A Return to Redemption — a live simulcast of which will take over movie theaters across the land on December 3 (followed by a taped encore on the 10th).

Beyond reading that it's a "popular stage show based on his best-selling book," we don't know much about it. And we'd like to keep it that way. But, if we had to guess, we'd imagine the tale goes something like this . . .

Hello, America. A special Glenn Beck Program tonight: I'm speaking to you from somewhere in the North Pole, and let me tell you [adopts cartoonish yokel voice with rubbery exaggerated shiver] it is coooooooold up here. But I'm bundled up in my trusty Christmas sweater — not holiday sweater, as the liberal-media elites would have me say, but a Christmas sweater — and warming myself with a nice cup of freedom tea.

And for the record, folks, any loony liberal who tries to talk to you about "global warming" — ahem, "climate change" — should spend a few minutes up here under the aurora borealis. Polar ice caps melting? Not from where I'm sitting! Just snow and ice as far as the eye can see. The only thing missing is an oil rig or 10. Drill, baby, drill!

So why am I here? [Slips into sotto voce conspiratorial tone.] Ladies and gentlemen, it's come to this. There's simply no other place where a humble entertainer like yours truly can be free from the clutches of the One World Government into which we've been enslaved by Comrade Obama.

Only here, way up in the icy expanse of the Arctic Circle, can one finally be beyond the reach of this socialist-fascist-tsarist-communist-nihilist-racist-neopaganist-fauvist-lepidopterologist who's torn asunder the very fabric of our democracy and seeks to drive us into the yawning abyss.

So I come to you tonight from the North Pole, not far from Santa's workshop — the one industry on the planet that has yet to be nationalized. No Toy Czars here, Valerie Jarrett!

And thank God for Kris Kringle and his workforce of non-unionized elves. Or else American boys and girls would find nothing but poison Chinese toys under the tree.

But lately, folks, I've noticed some very intriguing — some might say worrisome — symbols in the art and architecture of Santa's workshop. Look here: a harmless fir tree, right?

Or is it? Could it be — maybe? Just maybe? — that Mr. Claus is actually a militant member of Earth First!? That the man who takes carrots from the kitchens of hard-working Americans every Christmas Eve and feeds them to his pet reindeer is more concerned with the spotted owl than with the jobs of lumberjacks?

Oh, and this is sure interesting. What's this? A toy drum and a shiny trumpet. Hmmm . . . do you hear that? Off in the distance? Could it be? Why, it's the Third Reich brass band! Goose-stepping in unison to the martial rhythms of "O Tannenbaum"!

And ladies and gentlemen, look here: a snowman! [Puts on look of googly-eyed confusion.] Huh. Snow . . . cold . . . cool . . . cool. Cool.Cool man. You know who else is "cool"? A guy you might have heard of named Barack. Hussein. Obama.

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