Long before there was Sarah Palin, there was that first special nobody accidentally thrust into a position of cultural authority not the least bit earned -- whose laugh-out-loud ignorance was matched only by an unwavering moral certitude. I'm talking, of course, about the O.G. of imbecilic political neophytes: Dan Quayle.
Well, meet his son.
Or more to the point, meet his son's creepy deer-in-the-headlights-meets-serial-rapist stare.