If satirists are at their best when tussling with something they hate, then this is P.J. ORourkes masterpiece. He clearly hates government--and has hated it since before it was cool to do so--and for all the right reasons, too: its clumsy, inefficient, hypocritical, greedy, and arrogant. In other words, it magnifies the faults of the poor saps who staff it. Parliament o If satirists are at their best when tussling with something they hate, then this is P.J. ORourkes masterpiece. He clearly hates government--and has hated it since before it was cool to do so--and for all the right reasons, too: its clumsy, inefficient, hypocritical, greedy, and arrogant. In other words, it magnifies the faults of the poor saps who staff it. Parliament of Whores is the humorists howl of bitter laughter at the entire bloated, numskulled mess. As befits an ex-editor of National Lampoon , nothing is out of bounds for ORourke. Speaking of the fabled football--that satchel that follows the president around 24/7--the author doubts there are really launch codes in there at all--nothing but a copy of Penthouse and a pint bottle of Hiram Walker--a Penthouse from back in the seventies, when Penthouse was really dirty, Ill bet. Parliament of Whores is perfect for anyone who longs to cultivate an entertaining brand of cynicism, to be a lone voice--not crying in the wilderness, thank you, but chortling in the rec room. ORourke is a master at making you laugh in spite of the better angels of your nature, and the only negative thing to be said about this tour de force is that his flamethrower brand of satire leaves nothing in its wake--certainly not the suggestion of an improvement. --Michael Gerber