What with the testosterone abuse and the vapors and all, it’s hard for me to describe Andrew Sullivan as a man who has balls, so instead I’ll just say the guy has one helluva nerve.

Amid yet another pledge drive, Sullivan is . . . Where? Who knows? He’s not writing the “Daily Dish.” Someone named Daniel Drezner is handling that right now, this despite the fact the first thing a visitor to the “Dirty Dish” sees is a plea for contributions -- to Sullivan. For what? Well, you know, interns, e-mail readers and writers, explosive bandwidth expenses, a possible salary for Andy, renovations in Provincetown, and the like.

Gee whiz, even your local PBS station knows enough to broadcast their best programming while the hand is outstretched. And you even get a mug or a tote bag or a CD or something.

What do you get from Sullivan?

Something akin to a substitute teacher, one all too eager to promote himself and his book and a tad bit too concerned about forcing his heretofore undistinguished heterosexuality in the faces of the site’s readers.

[Post-publication addendum: See also, TBogg, “Blowing the Pledge Money on Frappachinos and a Bikini Wax.” Gee whiz, this guy could make a fortune writing cover lines for Bonnie Fuller.]