I’m not sure if you’ve noticed — although the typical National Review reader is a pretty “tuned in” sort of cat — but the United States House of Representatives is currently a gigantic, smoke-belching, sulfurously flaming tire fire that gives Springfield a run for its money. A couple of months ago New York representative and former school principal Jamaal Bowman yanked a fire alarm with the practiced skill one only learns from juvenile truants, in order to delay a key House vote. A few days later, Matt Gaetz politically assassinated Kevin McCarthy but neglected to think too carefully about a backup plan. Lauren Boebert and Nancy Mace alike found unfortunate new ways to raise their name ID among their constituents. And now it’s Marjorie Taylor Greene’s turn for some diva time in front of the public eye on what has, by most people’s admission, become the first installment of America’s stupidest (yet perversely highest-stakes) reality television show: Catfighting in Congress.