This. is. real: So here, at the end of all things, only one question remains. At what point does the Sulzberger family decide that David Brooks, their doddering, ideologically-incontinent housepet, has finally shit on one too many of the family's hand-knotted Bokara rugs to be kept around any longer? At what point will he be dispatched to an Elite Pundit Farm upstate where he can gambol and opine all day long in the warm sunshine with the ghosts of fellow pundits like David Broder and William Safire? My guess is never. I've been writing about David Brooks for +17 years now, and I didn't do all that readin' and spill all those pixels because I find anything meritorious about Mr.