Why do we invest so much emotional energy in the presidency? Why do we find this office worthy of unconditional reverence? Why do we insist on giving the president his due even if we think he is a liar or a cretin or a tyrant or even just boring? Why — most important — do we pretend that our opponents are being gauche when they insist on not sticking strictly to the letter of the hazily defined rubrics of public piety we were ourselves happy to ignore only a few years ago?

I am not, either by principle or temperament, much taken with the idea of elections and representative government. Asking ordinary people to care about the vain words and idle promises of politicians strikes me as coercive and cruel. Let them focus on God and their lives and families instead. It would be a far, far better world if we had a kindly senescent king or queen from a long line, whose main hobbies were stamp collecting or lepidoptery, presiding over a generous welfare state, cities full of mustachioed cyclists delivering milk, and a countryside dotted with beautiful churches and environmentally friendly ironworks.