A Family Affair.

When Mark Sanford vanished, it was a big story. When he reappeared, and confessed to an affair with a woman in Argentina, it became a once-in-a-lifetime feast of scandal and intrigue.

And it didn't take long for pundits to pull out the hypocrisy card.

You see, Mark Sanford's south-of-the-border infidelity was only a minor sin, on par with downloading the second season of ALF on Bittorent. And we've all been there, right? Yes, the real crime was that Sanford had the gall to promote "family values" while he indulged in private iniquity. Sanford was a hypocrite.

Senator John Ensign, another conservative Republican, had just admitted to an affair of his own a week earlier. Another hypocrite.

So, people started to connect the dots:

Sanford.
Ensign.
Vitter.
Craig.
Foley.

The already-triumphant left became jubulient. They finally had a dossier of evidence that discredited those religious-right loonies once and for all.

It was so simple: anyone who really cared about family values would have no choice but to migrate to the Democratic Party, led by shiny dad-in-chief Obama.

But wait -- what about all those Democratic sex scandals?

Like John Edwards, who fathered an illegitimate child while his wife was stricken with cancer?
Like Elliot Spitzer, who hired a prostitute?
And didn't his successor, David Patterson, have... marital problems.... of his own?
What about big-city mayors like Kwame Kilpatrick, Gavin Newsom, and Antonio Villaraigosa?
Or President Bill Clinton?

Gosh. It sure looks like this whole infidelity thing doesn't really respect party lines. But what about the hypocrisy thing? Democrats may cheat, but are they hypocrites?

To a certain extent, yes.

Politicians of all stripes try to paint themselves as model family men. It isn't a Republican thing. And generally, Republicans are no more judgmental than Democrats. It's worth noting that Ronald Reagan, a conservative Republican, was the first divorced President.

Sure, Republicans have a habit of attacking Democrats for their personal failings, but Democrats are all too happy to return the favor. Whenever a tawdry scandal is exposed, you can bet that people will exploit it for political gain.

And Republicans may tend to take conservative positions on issues like abortion and gay marriage, but frankly, neither of those issues have much to do with cheating on your spouse. Opponents of gay marriage may talk about the "sanctity" of marriage, and traditional values, but supporters of gay marriage appear to believe that marriage is pretty darn important as well, and I haven't heard of any Democrats (unless Woody Allen counts) who openly support infidelity.

But even if conservatives alone bore the stain of hypocrisy, would it matter?

Not really.

When someone fails to live up to the standards they preach, they discredit themselves -- not their standards. If Officer Bob tells a classroom full of kiddies to stay off drugs, and then goes home and overdoses on painkillers, it doesn't become okay to become a pill-popping fiend. And when a socially-conservative politician has a fling with a South American vixen, it doesn't mean that marriage is a sham. It means he is.

Thank goodness. If we tossed out ideals every time we failed to live up to them, we wouldn't have much left to believe in.

The idea that Republicans are losing their "values voter" cred is just as absurd. Socially conservative voters support Republicans because they agree with their policies. Voters in South Carolina may give Sanford the boot, but it's unlikely that they'll replace him with a liberal Democrat.

In the end, cheaters like Sanford, Ensign or Clinton are just people who did something bad. Sometimes their careers die, and sometimes they don't. Their actions don't -- and shouldn't -- herald the death of a party or an ideology. Anyone who pretends that adultery (or hypocrisy) is a Republican problem or a Democratic problem is willfully ignorant.

It turns out that there are humans in both parties. Who knew?

A Face You Can Trust.

John Edwards, conqueror of corporations, defender of the impoverished, and possessor of the golden haircut, is now watching helplessly as his public image is dismantled, piece by piece. All of his illustrious accomplishments are slowly being overshadowed by his scarlet mistake. No one cares about who John Edwards was, because they can only see him for what he is now: a guy who cheated on his dying wife.

Sure, John Edwards made a mistake -- but should that be allowed to tarnish a shining career of heroic heroism? In the midst of the overblown controversy, I think we should all take a little time to remember the real John Edwards.

Born the son of a middle-class mill supervisor, John Edwards grew up with the knowledge that poor people existed somewhere. He would never forget this. After graduating with a law degree from the University of North Carolina, his career options were endless. He could have easily taken a selfish corporate job, lining his pockets by oppressing the downtrodden.

Instead, he became their defender.

Doctors, hospitals, and the makers of cheap swimming pool accessories quaked with fear as John Edwards held them to account for their sheer depravity and evilness. In the blink of an eye, his legal career rose to stratospheric heights -- but he refused to use his talent to enrich himself. When it came time to purchase a house, Edwards chose to dwell in a modest 28,000 square foot home, even though he could have afforded at least 30,000.

The forsaken poor of our nation looked up at this pillar of justice, and saw their dreams reflected in the glistening strands of his righteous mane. He was their savior, the man who would break the chains of systemic injustice, and lead them into a new century of prosperity and unbridled joy. They were his people -- and John Edwards could not deny them.

In the Senate, John Edwards began his greatest crusade for the poor. The path was lonely, and covered in little spiky rocks that really hurt when stepped on. But he refused to abandon the little man. The fight had to be fought, as no one had ever fought the fight before.

A nation had to be awakened from its greedy slumber.
John Edwards had to run for president.

Traveling from sea to shining sea, Edwards became the voice of the voiceless. His message was simple: poor people exist, and they must be made un-poor with the help of copious amounts of government cash.

At first, his efforts were met with confusion. Many had never heard of such things. Who were these "poor"? Wasn't "poverty" an unpopular flavor of ice cream during the '90s? Why did these things need to change? Like infants using their eyes for the first time, the flabby bourgeois of the nation simply stood in place, blinking at the pure light of truth.

He didn't win. But he didn't quit either.

Four years later, he tried again -- and failed again.

The cynics out there might tell you that John Edwards never really made a difference in the political world. They couldn't be more wrong. No, he didn't become president, but he did something that no one else had ever done before: he talked about poor people. As anyone who watches Oprah knows, healing can only happen through open, honest talk. John Edwards gave that to our nation. Because of his campaigns, we now know that poverty is a problem that must be solved. We also know that the solution has something to do with well-groomed hair and lawsuits. Now, the rest is up to us.

That's the real Edwards legacy. Not a legacy of deceit, adultery, or ludicrously expensive haircuts, but a legacy of hope. In our darkest hour, John Edwards was a light. In the midst of our ignorance, he gave us the sacred knowledge. 

For that, both Americas should be forever grateful.