A Bunch of Ben Dovers

I am fascinated--the way one might be fascinated by a bloody car wreck--by the people who still like Dubya.

During the last congressional elections, boy wonder was kept under wraps. Now, thanks to short memories, this core group of wackos, and the Ben Dovers who can't let go of their affection for a charming but incompetent over-grown frat boy, the President is on the campaign trail.

The Ben Dovers want to like Dubya so badly, it hurts. . .me. They are exemplified by these two southern newspaper editors I saw on a Newshour panel shortly after the "surge" had reduced the number of American casualities in Iraq. One Lady Ben Dover had this strange doe eyed expression. She basically said, "Well, I guess everything's all right now. Anyway, we don't want to be party poopers." At least the other frosty-haired editor copped to the fact that her conservative readers had no problems devouring the federal pork that was flowing into their defense contractor heavy region. Toot! Toot! Keep that gravy trail running!

Ladies, at the risk of sounding less than gentile, I must say that you need to be smacked upside the head. You may enjoy bending over for some idiot or some cash, but don't force the rest of us to do it.