"I know his beliefs. When he ran one of his commercials, he said 'I need your prayers,' and I asked, 'When did you get religious?' He said, 'When I needed votes,'" Peacock recalled. "He broke out the religious card and he's about the most non-religious person I know."
There does remain the small matter of McAllister's celebrity endorser, Willie Robertson of Duck Dynasty fame. Of course, the fakery that is Duck Dynasty is well documented, so perhaps there's some symmetry to the partnership.
It's worth mentioning the vast majority of elected officials on Capitol Hill who claim Christ as their savior, as well as those who do not, manage to get through each high-pressure day without some physical relief from a member of the opposite sex who is not his or her spouse.
The larger question here is why Mr. McAllister felt he had no chance to win an election in the great state of Louisiana unless he dressed up in the trappings of a dedicated, church-attending Jesus worshiper, proving that it doesn't take but a half-talented video producer to turn an overgrown frat boy into a family man.
The obvious answer is that the voting citizens who reside in certain geographic segments of our fine Republic don't really care if you've ever read a book or possess basic math skills or can locate Ireland on a map; if you profess faith in the god of the Bible you have exceeded the bar for qualification for elected office.
While I highly doubt it, here's hoping the revelation of Congressman McAllister's alternate identity will spur some substantive conversation about why you can be convicted of bestiality but if you pledge adherence to Christianity you have more of a chance of getting elected to public office than an atheist who prefers having sex with fellow human beings.