The reviews of Sarah Palin’s new book about the War on Christmas are in and they are entertaining.

And Paul Crouch, my favorite gospel grinder died yesterday.  Crouch had been partners with Jim Bakker and Jimmy Swagwart but somehow managed never to get caught … if you don’t count the $425,000 in pay-off money to an employee who claimed a homosexual relationship with him.

I admit to a fascination with the Crouches.  I watched them once a month or so like you watch a Vegas show.

The center of Trinity’s lineup has long been the nightly talk show “Praise the Lord.” Hosted by the silver-haired Crouch and his flamboyantly coiffed wife, it emanates from an Orange County studio decorated with stained-glass windows, gilded imitation antiques and plush pews for the audience.

The extravagance carried over to Crouch’s personal life, provoking criticism from watchdog groups as well as members of his family. He and his wife had access to TBN’s multimillion-dollar private jets and more than two dozen ministry-owned homes, including his-and-her mansions in Newport Beach, a mountain retreat near Lake Arrowhead and a ranch in Texas.

So after living high on the hog by taking money from poor people in the name of Sweet Jesus, Crouch stands before his maker today and tries to say why he really, really, needed seven houses and a gold plated chair to preach from.  You know, like Jesus had.