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The 10 Stupidest Moments in Glenn Beck's New Novel

Turns out, Glenn Beck is not a very good novelist. But his efforts are inadvertently hilarious.

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"Noah?"

"I was starting to worry you'd forgotten I was here."

Molly took a deep breath and seemed to collect herself for a moment.

"I need to ask you something."

"Okay."

"If we hired you, your company, what would you tell us to do?"

He frowned a bit. "You mean if you and your mom hired us?"

"It's more than just the two of us, you know that. A lot more."

"I don't know," he said. "What is it you want to accomplish again?"

"We want to save the country."

"Oh. Okay. Is that all?"

"That's where we start, isn't it? With a clear objective."

"That's right."

"So?"

"Okay. Let me think for a minute."

Molly had become deadly serious; this wasn't party talk. She didn't take her eyes from his as she waited.

"I guess;' he said, "I'd begin by sitting down with all these different groups and trying to focus everyone on the things they agree on -- the fundamentals. A platform, you know? Make it easy for people to understand what you're about. Propose some real answers."

"Give me an example."

"I don't know-start with the tax code, since your mom is so passionate about that. How about a set of specific spending cuts and a thirteen percent flat tax to start with? Get that ridiculous sixty-seven-thousand-page tax code down to four or five bullet points, and show exactly what effects it'll have on trade, and employment, and the debt, and the future of the country."

8. In times of stress, it helps to talk about Bill Clinton

So after going through the harrowing ordeal of the Founders Keepers raid and a night spent in the lock-up at a New York City police station, Noah and Molly find themselves in a company car on their way home. One would think that they'd want to talk about the evening's events, critical as they were both to the plot and their character development. But instead, they opt for a discussion of Bill Clinton's character:

"You know what? New topic. Ask me anything."

"Okay. Who's the most fascinating person you've ever met?"

He didn't hesitate. "President Clinton. Hands down."

"Really?"

''All politics aside, you've never seen so much charisma stuffed into one human being. And you brought up the subject of lying earlier -- this man could keep twenty elaborate, interlocking whoppers in his head at a time, improvising on the fly, and have you believing every word while you're holding a stack of hard evidence to the contrary. His wife might be even smarter than he is, but she doesn't have any of that skill at prevarication, and Gore was pretty helpless if he ever dropped his script. But Clinton? He's like one of those plate spinners at the circus: he makes everything look completely effortless. And obviously, in a related skill, he's a total Svengali with the chicks."

9. Noah vs. the narrator

The Overton Window is chock-full of characters that don't really do anything, but perhaps the person whose presence is least felt is the editor. Take for example, this passage in which Noah remembers thinking the book's first lines about life's defining "moments." The problem is that this line is actually said in the voice of the third-person omniscient narrator:

From behind his tinted visor a nearby man-in-black raised his riot club, ready to cave in the skull of the helpless man at his feet.

In this strange, slow procession of vivid snapshots, a random thought made its way back to him from earlier in the day.  We stay mostly the same and then grow up suddenly, at the turning points. What came next would either go down as one of those dreaded defining moments, or as the final mistake of a bad night that would top any that had ever come before. It didn't matter which; the die was already cast.