For those of us who are political junkies, the idea that more than a third of the U.S. population can’t name the three branches of government is astonishing. And depressing. And appalling. Every single day, we get ourselves all worked up about the latest way we’re getting fucked over by corrupt politicians, big money, and corporate con artists. We send money here and there. We organize protests occasionally, and a handful of the likeminded sometimes join us in our “consciousness-raising” efforts. We write letters to the editor, we argue with relatives who hold benighted views, we sputter and fume at our TV screens, we get our intestines in a knot over the latest bullshit from Limbaugh or Hannity, and we feel flashes of annoyance when we see the big stacks of books by Bill O’Reilly being sold at Costco. We fulminate to our spouses about the reprehensible Clarence Thomas and his moronic wife, and lose our appetite at the very mention of the name Antonin Scalia. Mike Huckabee reminds us of the vast history of hucksters who wrapped their self-interest in religion, and Dick Cheney evokes memories of legions of chicken hawks who spent their lives promoting wars so long as they didn’t have to fight them themselves.