Mr Beck offered the placid throng an insipid stew of mildly uplifting flag-swaddled God-talk, Bob Hope troop fluffing, "America is the promised land" crypto-Mormonism, and weird "only you can prevent the Eschaton" civic exhortation. This certainly does not strike me as the sort of production one would mount to promote across-the-board legalisation of capitalist acts between consenting adults. Of course, no one ever suggested Mr Beck is the second coming of Murray Rothbard. Still, Saturday's patriotic pray-in strikes me as precisely the sort of production one would mount to summon and inspire the most staunchly conservative of the nation's strangely aggrieved religious, white, middle class whilst trying hard not to arouse alarm.
Head for the hills, Jonah. Maybe take some beer with you.