In his column Saturday, David Brooks took a break from his usual lawn-chair sociology (armchairs are way too solidly constructed and comfortable to enclose Brooks' particular brand of wisdom) to play a new role: eunuch at Plato's Retreat.

Brooks proves he's one of those Bennettian conservatives by describing a decadent meal he recently enjoyed in New Orleans after "a couple of hours at the craps tables at Harrah's." (Cue: The Simpsons' "New Orleans": "New Orleeeans.../ Home of pirates, drunks, and whores! / New Orleeeans.../ Tacky, overpriced, souvenir stores!/ If you want to go to Hell, you should make that trip to the Sodom and Gomorrah on the Mississipp'!") After six appetizers, main courses that included fish, crab, and steak, and dessert consisting of "a meringue pie roughly the size of a football helmet," a burning, brandy-infused coffee called "devil's brew" is dramatically unveiled. Watching the flames leap off the coffee, Brooks reverts to form as the most boring person at the table, asking, "Is it decaf?":

In this circumstance, this was like Nero pausing during the incineration of Rome to worry about the dangers of secondhand smoke. This was like Henry VIII, lying amid a great mound of gnawed bones and empty steins, remarking, "I'll take the low-carb mead." This is like the Marquis de Sade fretting nervously over his leather collection because it might be an affront to animal rights.

So, consider this your warning: do not invite Brooks to your dinner or key party. As soon as the keys hit the bowl, he's gonna ask which car gets the best mileage and has the best J.D. Powers rating.

Also, you should be grateful that we're sparing you Brooks' head Photoshopped onto the Marquis de Sade's body.

Saturday Night Lite [NYT]