Of course, there’s no surprise, really. Norris, a columnist these days for WorldNetDaily, loves conservative evangelical candidates — see Huckabee, Mike. And Moore loves bearded guys who have power over life and death and can move the Earth — see God, Almighty.

Moore and Norris have other things in common, as well. Surprisingly, they’re both kickboxers. And, somewhat less surprisingly, neither believes in evolution. Says Moore, “There’s no scientific evidence of evolution.” According to Chuck Norris Facts: “There is no theory of evolution. Just a list of creatures Chuck Norris has allowed to live.”

Moore weighed running for president on the Constitution Party line in 2004, but decided to wait and seek office in Alabama again later. In 2006, he unsuccessfully challenged incumbent Gov. Bob Riley in the Republican primary. Despite this checkered history, you’ve got to think that the guy stands a real chance with the current political climate in the GOP — in fact, early polling shows him right in the thick of things.

We’re fragile children, after all, and we’d prefer to believe that there’s a benevolent and wise parent somewhere who loves us unconditionally. Even if our actual parents sipped gin and tonics and mumbled halfheartedly in our direction as Walter Cronkite confirmed their worst suspicions about the world, we still can’t quite let go of our deep desire to be soothed and led, like docile lambs. Grown up and burdened by a million and one responsibilities, we still yearn to be told stories and fed and tucked into bed, assured that the path ahead is clear and simple, flat and smooth, set forth by a mystical power who reigns over every living thing.

Divine intervention

Five years ago, NBC’s “Kings” wouldn’t have haunted us with its vision of a royal leader, guiding a once confused and destitute fictional land through the hard times to a glorious, shining fate. Its mythical kingdom, Gilboa, would have seemed cartoonish and farfetched, its florid prose would have struck us as pretentious and unnecessary, its stylized, ambitious cinematography would have appeared excessive and melodramatic. We might have misinterpreted the central plot –  King Silas (Ian McShane) leads his modern-day war-torn land through a terrible time with the unexpected help of humble soldier David Shepherd (Chris Egan) — as offering some skin-deep parable about celebrity culture or the thoughtless cruelty of war. The pomp and circumstance of King Silas’ reign, the way he tells the cheering crowds a story of being anointed by God to rule his land, as signaled by a crown of butterflies that one day came and rested on his head, would be lost on us. We’d assume that this was the creation of some J.R.R. Tolkien fan plagued by delusions of grandeur.

But we occupy a changed world from the one we inhabited five years ago, a world where our continued comfort and prosperity has been cast into doubt in a way once considered unthinkable. We have a new leader who’s not shy about laying out the immediate, sweeping, drastic measures necessary to keep our ship from smashing into the rocky shoals. After over a decade of viewing politicians as deeply corrupt, quarrelsome, petty men, we’re suddenly forced to concede that not only does our leadership matter, but that strong, firm leadership is essential to our survival.

Against this background, NBC’s “Kings” looks less like a work of pretentious puffery and more like an imaginative fable, rich with insights into the ways that power — particularly power that’s seen as divinely granted — inspires and corrupts.

“Kings” creator Michael Green isn’t shy about blessing his characters with nearly supernatural powers: Regular country boy and mechanic David Shepherd is visited by an odd religious figure with an expensive car that needs fixing, along with some hints that Shepherd is destined for greatness. The next time we see him, Shepherd is dodging behind enemy lines to singlehandedly rescue a handful of war hostages, one of whom turns out to be King Silas’ son, Jack (Sebastian Stan). Everything Shepherd does is earnest and humble, yet perfectly timed to bestow adoration and glory on his shoulders.

In other words, Shepherd isn’t another deeply flawed, conflicted hero, the likes of which have populated our TV dramas for the past decade. But for all of his unrealistic good luck and perfection, Shepherd feels like an unexpected breath of fresh air among the more angst-ridden protagonists of the small screen. Sure, he makes mistakes and stumbles on his words and feels outmatched by his suddenly posh and self-important surroundings. But just as flawed, conflicted heroes once made the white-hat-crowned good guys of the ’50s and ’60s look hopelessly one-dimensional, David’s simple purity makes all of the carefully invented weaknesses of his fellow TV heroes seem oddly formulaic and outdated. As the world looks poised to sink into economic and spiritual quicksand of its own making, this is the hero we’re in the mood for: humble, sharp, self-reliant, but also passionately inspired to heed his calling, blessed with some palatable mix of jittery boyishness and determined swagger. Picture Matt Damon’s first confused but still efficient moments in “The Bourne Identity” — only this time, the fate of an entire kingdom rests in his hands, and God is on his side!

That sounds awful, I realize, as do all of the words devoted to “Kings” in its press releases and on its Web site, where the drama is described as “an epic story of greed and power” and “a contemporary retelling of the timeless tale of David and Goliath.” But such publicist-scripted prose doesn’t come close to doing justice to the romantic sweep and scope of Green’s creation.

 And that’s before we even start to tackle Ian McShane’s incredible turn as King Silas. Of course, if King Silas were as scheming and evil as Shepherd is heroic and special, we’d be plunged back into the dark ages of kings and knights and cowboys and Indians. Instead, McShane bestows on Silas the same haunted edge that made Al Swearengen the poetically tragic and endlessly transfixing demigod of HBO’s prematurely guillotined “Deadwood.” “Kings” even shares some of the vaguely Shakespearean, stylized dialogue of David Milch’s scrappy masterpiece, as with this conspiratorial talk between King Silas and his trusted confident, General Abner (Wes Studi):

Abner: He’ll be trouble, you watch. I know the type. The only way to deal with him is with a bullet.

King: Please, he’s an infant. He’s got everyone eating out of his hand. Cameras are wearing themselves out. No one’s talking about the war. This court needs a new face to look up to. No, we can use him.

As well-written as his dialogue may be, King Silas could’ve ended up a far less compelling  character in anyone else’s hands. But McShane brings such a palpable mix of swagger and sweetness to King Silas that his character rivals the most complicated, touching yet terrifying patriarchs to inhabit any screen, small or large. Think of Robert Duvall as “The Great Santini” or Jack Nicholson in “Heartburn” (or even “The Shining”). McShane is just as convincing when Silas is kissing his children and calling them “puppy” as he is when Silas is threatening his foes, with his wild eyes and that predatorial set to his teeth. McShane savors each line or spits it out with brute force, but either way, he absolutely owns the script. He moves like a shark or a teddy bear, depending on his mood. Even those viewers who find the notion of aristocracy disturbing will accept this man as a king. McShane’s Silas was born to nurture and protect a struggling nation!

But McShane also works magic to make King Silas’ political pragmatism and his ferocity look undeniably appealing, even under the harshest circumstances. Take this uncharacteristically blunt lecture Silas delivers to his son, Jack, who up until now assumed his father didn’t know anything about his sexual leanings: “What you do at night, with your boys, after your show of skirt-chasing, is a disgrace. If you were my second son I wouldn’t care, but for a king it’s not possible. Not possible! We give up what we want when we want power. Believe me. Now you want to show me you have the heart to be king? Show me you can control it. Wrestle it to the ground, numb it with ice, but you cannot be what God made you, not if you mean to take my place. Celebrate, Jack. It’s what you’re good at.” Silas doesn’t have personal or moral feelings about his son’s sexuality, but he almost seems to enjoy informing him, in a seething tone, that who he is, by nature, is impractical if he wants to wield power on a public stage. Again, in another actor’s hands, this scene might come off as overly cruel or melodramatic, but McShane hisses and growls and scares the living daylights out of us, and we’re left wanting more.

As difficult as it should be to get wrapped up in such a lofty mythical tale, the gorgeous art direction and stunning cinematography of “Kings” draw us in. Every shot is clean and pretty, or stark and bold, with breathtaking CGI-aided views of the sparkling city of Shiloh, where Silas and the royal family live, punctuated by extreme close-ups of Shepherd’s nervous smile or King Silas’ piercingly confident visage. The creative imagery used to signify the divine — butterflies or flocks of pigeons or black clouds dramatically parting to reveal a ray of sunshine — are so beautifully shot that they conjure the ethereal. There’s a perfectionist in the mix here, either director Francis Lawrence (“I Am Legend”) or creator Green or both. Someone had exacting standards and such a clear idea of how they wanted this drama to look that the results are just incomparable, in terms of modern TV shows. See for yourself: There’s not a single lazy shot or half-assed image on the screen, from start to finish, and the results fall somewhere between a moody art film, a big-budget superhero blockbuster and the more breathtaking scenes from “Lord of the Rings.”

But where will this simple story of a mythical modern day hero take us? The answer isn’t entirely clear. In addition to having his earnest fingers in a few unwanted pies, Shepherd is falling in love with the king’s daughter, Michelle (Allison Miller). Meanwhile, the king has plenty of secrets up his sleeve — secret loves, secret prisoners, secret benefactors — all of which we’ll keep under wraps for the sake of forcing you to watch the first two-hour episode. But honestly, it’s difficult to care all that much about the exact details of the plot moving forward. The dialogue is just so artful and poetic, the characters are so appealing, the whole damn package is so original and daring and lovely, that after watching the first four hours, it’s impossible not to feel inspired and cheered by the fact that a drama this ambitious and unique could make it onto network TV.

And it couldn’t have come at a better time. “Kings” was custom-made for this particularly dark but defiantly optimistic moment in history; it feels like some divine power must’ve intervened to shield it from the usual forces that more typically transform truly original shows into mediocre also-rans. It’s a miracle that someone didn’t squeeze the life out of this imaginative drama a long time ago. And if by some crazy twist of fate, audiences give “Kings” its due, recognizing its brilliance and making it the hit that it deserves to be, then we’ll be left to assume that divinity is, in fact, in play.

So far, only 3,000 names have been signed to the “True Women” manifesto. (Hmm, “True Woman.” Is that anything like “Real American”?) But they’re hoping to get 100,000 women to pledge their faith to a life of “biblical femininity.”

According to the manifesto, a True Woman is called to “affirm and encourage men as they seek to express godly masculinity” and responds “humbly to male leadership” demonstrating “noble submission to authority.” Still hesitant to sign your name? How about the belief that “Selfish insistence on personal rights is contrary to the spirit of Christ.” If that sounds like a page out of pre-feminist history, that’s the point.

Only a month before hordes of people gathered in Grant Park to celebrate President Obama’s election victory, Mary Kassian, author of the corrective text “The Feminist Mistake,” spoke to a more modest crowd of 6,000 in Chicago at the inaugural “True Woman Conference.” Also making an appearance was Christian radio host Nancy Leigh DeMoss who, according to Alternet, argued that feminism was much like the old Virginia Slims ads, “appealing to women’s desire for independence, but selling a dangerous product.” Lest those True Women lose their way without that humble male leadership, theologian John Piper took the stage. Proclaiming the power of submission, Piper told the audience, “A woman on her knees sways more in this nation than a thousand three-piece-suited Wall Street jerks.” I’ll assume that wasn’t a blow job reference.

That outburst appalled many Republicans, who heard those words as an assault on traditional conservative and libertarian values. The next day on National Review Online, Republican speechwriter and strategist Lisa Schiffren complained: “Mike Huckabee is going to force those of us who have wanted more religion in the town square to reexamine the merits of strict separation of church and state. He is the best advertisement ever for the ACLU.”

But those offending phrases may have had even deeper significance. Not so long ago, he attributed his rising political fortunes, after many experts had written off his campaign, to the hand of the Almighty. “There’s only one explanation for it, and it’s not a human one,” he said. “It’s the same power that helped a little boy with two fish and five loaves feed a crowd of 5,000 people, and that’s the only way that our campaign could be doing what it’s doing … That’s honestly why it’s happening.”

He later denied that he meant to suggest that God wants him in the White House. But his deliberate reference this week to conforming the law to “God’s standards” sounds uncomfortably like the ideology sometimes known as “Christian dominionism” or “Christian reconstructionism,” which declares that America, indeed every nation on earth, is meant to be governed by biblical law.

The looniest dominionists publicly insist that a pious government would inflict Old Testament punishments, including death, on blasphemers, pornographers, homosexuals, adulterers and even disobedient children. They constantly talk about their duty to institute biblical rule in the United States.

As a Southern Baptist preacher, does Huckabee accept that bizarre interpretation of Christian ethics? The answer is that he probably doesn’t (or is too shrewd to say so if he does). But the clues to Huckabee’s affinity for religious extremism have been lying in plain sight for a long time.

Back in 1998, when he was still serving as governor, he helped write “Kids Who Kill,” a short book purporting to analyze the outbreak of school shootings by teenagers. His coauthor was George Grant, a well-known militant Christian reconstructionist author, activist and educator. That same year, the libertarian Reason magazine published an exposé of reconstructionism titled “Invitation to a Stoning,” which identified Grant and quoted him on the movement’s ambition for “world conquest.” Scorning the moderation of other conservative Christians, Grant explained, “It is dominion we are after. Not just a voice … not just influence … not just equal time. It is dominion we are after.”

Of course, Huckabee must have had no illusions about Grant’s baroque worldview, since it is clearly reflected in their book. The school shootings were mere symptoms of American civilization in decline, they thundered, with communities “fragmented and polarized” by “abortion, environmentalism, AIDS, pornography, drug abuse, and homosexual activism.” (Unlike his coauthor, Huckabee was too nice to call for the execution of gays. He merely wanted to place them in detention if they tested HIV-positive.)

As governor, he also promoted the faith-based programs of a reconstructionist minister named Bill Gothard — and even boasted that he had gone through Gothard’s “basic program” himself. More reputable evangelicals consider Gothard to be a cultish fringe character, but he has built an enormous empire, which depends on funding from local and state governments to bring his authoritarian version of the Gospel to prisoners, police officers and welfare recipients, among others. He experienced a moment of unwelcome notoriety recently, when the Denver Post revealed that Matthew Murray, the 24-year-old gunman who killed four people at two Christian centers in Colorado in December, had been subjected as a teenager to Gothard’s superstrict “home-schooling” programs.

Huckabee’s close connections with the likes of Grant and Gothard date back a decade or more — and his rhetoric has surely changed, if not his views. He no longer denounces environmentalism, for example, at least not publicly. But he still maintains contact with reconstructionist leaders, some of whom are supporting his presidential candidacy. Just last month, Huckabee attended a campaign fundraiser at the Houston home of Dr. Steven Hotze, who became one of the nation’s most notorious advocates of dominionist ideology when he led the religious right’s takeover of the Texas Republican Party. Huck’s old friend Gothard was also at Hotze’s home, along with a bevy of extremists including Rick Scarborough, author of “Liberalism Kills Kids” and “Mixing Church and State.”

When columnist Robert Novak mentioned the event, he described Hotze as a leader of the “highly conservative Christian reconstructionist movement,” a description that aptly encapsulates the ignorance of many mainstream journalists (and the aversion to unpleasant realities of many right-wing journalists). There is, of course, nothing “conservative” about reconstructionism, which demands a radical repression of liberty and the imposition of biblical law by “godly men.”

Years before he became a Republican Party activist, Hotze played a role in the Coalition on Revival, one of the early organizations promoting reconstructionist thought among evangelicals. The coalition’s 1986 “manifesto for the Christian church” urged believers to accept the Bible as “the final measurement and depository of certain fundamental facts of reality and basic principles that God wants all mankind to know in the sphere of law, government, economics, business, education, arts and communication, medicine, psychology, and science. All theories and practices of these spheres of life are only true, right, and realistic to the degree that they agree with the Bible.”

In 1997, Huckabee expressed similar sentiments in a book titled “Character Is the Issue: How People With Integrity Can Revolutionize America,” warning starkly that in the struggle between secular and sectarian, “one worldview will prevail.” Echoing the grandiose authoritarian cadences of his reconstructionist pals, he wrote:

“When two irreconcilable views emerge, one is going to dominate. Ours will either be a worldview with humans at the center or with God at the center … The winning worldview will dominate public policy, the laws we make, and every other detail of our existence.”

Does Huckabee still believe that his narrow version of Christianity must dominate every detail of human existence in this country? He doesn’t like to answer hard questions about the intersection of his faith and his politics, but it is long past time that somebody demanded a straight answer.