By Sullivan's standards, though, Krugman's the worst of the bunch, and that's where Sullivan's partisan instincts drive his accountability crusade off the track. Rather than calling all the pundits out for not disclosing their questionable Enron paydays, Sullivan largely gives the other (conservative) commentators a pass, and zeroes in on the only liberal among them.

For instance, assessing Kudlow's Enron writings, Sullivan concluded, "Since [his] pieces were harshly critical of Enron, there's no scandal." Yet no pundit this year has been as harshly critical of Enron as Krugman has, so why is his work a scandal?

Applying a sort of retroactive responsibility, Sullivan accused Krugman of "absconding with $50,000 worth of dirty money from a criminal enterprise." Of course, Krugman took the money three years ago, long before Enron's problems were apparent. By contrast, Kudlow was cashing Enron checks for a speech given last August, just as the company was beginning to unravel.

Sullivan patted Kristol on the back for "getting [his $100,000 payment] out in the open." In the open? Kristol pocketed twice as much as Krugman, yet the Weekly Standard still hasn't printed any details about Kristol's cushy Enron payment.

Meanwhile, Sullivan accused Krugman and the New York Times of somehow trying to cover up his Enron affiliation. "Most readers of the Times would think [the $50,000 payment] is relevant," Sullivan complained. Yet how did he find out about the $50,000? He read it in the New York Times.

Later, Sullivan bemoaned "vast amounts of corporate cash being handed over to journalists," and how those vast amounts "might actually give an appearance of conflict of interest for a journalist."

But was Krugman a "journalist" in 1999 when Enron came calling? Over the years the economist has undoubtedly been a prodigious writer, with outlets in Fortune and Slate, among others. But to suggest Krugman was a journalist the way Noonan, Kristol, Kudlow or Stelzer are is disingenuous. In 1999 He was primarily known as a MIT professor of economics who, according to his own explanation, accepted the Enron gig based on a long tradition of high-profile economics professors cashing out at the expense of corporations.

So why, after the fact, does Sullivan try to hold Krugman to a conflict-of-interest standard his future employer would insist upon? Was Krugman supposed to know in 1999 that later in the year he'd be hired by the New York Times, and therefore he shouldn't have accepted the Enron money?

Krugman answered his critics by claiming he was being smeared by a "broader effort by conservatives to sling Enron muck toward their left, hoping that some of it would stick."

He's onto something. Clearly, Krugman's constant flurry of punches over the last year have hit the White House in the gut a few too many times for some conservatives. And his punches hurt -- Krugman is an economist who knows his topic better than the White House does. He's also untainted by the Clinton sex scandals. (He joined the Times after those bloody battles had been fought.) And he's unusually blunt in his assessment that President Bush is either a fool or a liar for pushing his tax cut strategy.

Sullivan may have inadvertently revealed his true motivation for targeting Krugman when he immediately launched another media crusade: criticizing the New York Times' "left-wing lurch" in its aggressive Enron news coverage. (Specifically, Sullivan didn't think that a poll that found a vast majority of Americans felt Republicans, not Democrats, had close ties to Enron was Page 1 material.)

There is an important lesson about politics, money and power to be learned from the Enron pundit tale, but it's not necessarily the one that Sullivan is shouting about.

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