It's Uncouth to Make Fun of Exorcisms

One of the most distasteful parts of the campaign season is known euphemistically as "vetting," although the term hardly conveys the audacious, insolent, and impertinent manner in which some members of the news media and indeed some of our own tribunes of democracy confront potential office holders with the things that those people have said and done in the past, as though such information could have the slightest bearing on their capacity to hold office responsibly in the future.

Consider the way that the honorable Governor Piyush "Bobby" Jindal's brave actions as a university undergraduate in protecting a female companion from danger have been crudely twisted to imply that he is some sort of religious zealot. If this is the kind of character in evidence at Mother Jones, then I fear Grandmother Jones may be resting uneasily in the grave.

Although a reader of honor and good breeding should require no further convincing, let us consider in detail author Tim Murphy's depraved lust for libel, a compulsion to smear and slander that even led him to use Jindal's own words against him.

Though Jindal was suitably modest in describing his own heroic actions, I trust the reader will grasp the extent of his chivalry, courage, and wisdom.

The tale begins with Jindal escorting "Susan," a platonic-yet-intimate female friend to a Christian a capella concert following a meeting of a campus christian fellowship which Susan had departed

in a very sullen mood.

Very few young men would have the emotional intelligence to recognize that the cure for someone left cold by nondenominational evangelical Christian worship is more nondenominational evangelical Christian worship, and this decision alone should be applauded.

Yet, the uplifting sounds of the concert failed to buoy the young lady's spirits. A person of low character, raised on soap operas and romance novels might conclude that the source of Susan's displeasure was sitting right next to her, in the form of a man who was, in the regrettable words of television strumpets, "just not that into her." Young Jindal, of course, had good cause for jilting her, however difficult the decision was for him

We had succumbed to pressure from our friends and de­cided we should not be so emotionally interdependent without a deeper commitment. To be honest, my fears of a relationship and the constraints of commitment had kept us apart; our friends' objec­tions merely provided a convenient excuse.

and took the gentlemanly step of softening the blow of heartache by taking her on an outing free from any prospect of romantic requittal. Although Young Jindal was also too respectful of a lady's privacy to mention it in his recollection, Susan had also recently been diagnosed with cancer, making his decision to escort her all the more gracious and no doubt comforting to her. Thus, when Susan abruptly left the concert that evening and experienced a seizure the next day, Jindal was wise enough to correctly diagnose the cause: demonic possession.

This diagnosis was confirmed when Jindal bravely gathered together every undergraduate Christian organization leader he could find in Susan's dorm room and instructed them to wave crucifixes at her. Truly, nothing but demonic possession could account for her reaction:

She suddenly leapt up and ran for the door, despite the many hands holding her down. 

Although his ears were confronted with the most vile of utterances from this unfortunate young lady

At first, Susan responded to biblical passages with curses and profanities. Mixed in with her vile attacks were short and desperate pleas for help.

Not your typical callow undergraduate, Jindal keenly recognized that Susan's pleas for help--which one of the mental invalids at the median of our society's bell curves of intellect and common sense might have interpreted as beseeching relief from her human interlocutors--were in fact pleas to be rescued from demons. Jindal's steadfast leadership saved the day:

In the same breath that she attacked Christ, the Bible's authenticity, and everyone assembled in prayer, Susan would suddenly urge us to rescue her. It appeared as if we were observing a tremendous battle between the Susan we knew and loved and some strange evil force. But the momentum had shifted and we now sensed that victory was at hand.

Bobby Jindal is a moral and intellectual giant among men, and to use this story to suggest that he resides at the corner of Rain Man Avenue and Spanish Inquisition Parkway is positively uncouth.