I’ll never forget the day I thought I was wiser than Andrew Breitbart and that I could teach him a moral lesson. He and I were at CPAC last spring, where he had just given a powerful speech on social issues. It is grim for me to reflect that it was one of his last public addresses. He died just a few weeks later.

In a good mood, we walked out of the hotel to get a drink, only to find that the street was filled by a mob. Not a calm group of demonstrators, or even an impassioned crowd, but a raucous and ugly troop of surly, ill-clad activists. Occupy D.C. was marching on CPAC—and shouting obscenities at us.

Andrew was usually what I’d call a happy warrior, but this group provoked something different. He started to seethe. He turned a deep red, and seemed like he wanted to start yelling back. Here is where I got to play the “compassionate Catholic” card.

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