Whither Evil

It used to be so easy. Every day, every headline, every pronouncement or misunderestimation from Dubya brought a new opportunity for your colon to clench and your breath to turn sour and the universe's skin to crawl. A single glance at Karl Rove and you were instantly swarmed with visions of tiny worms eating through the flesh of a sweet little bunny until it turned black and rotten and Rick Santorum. You had but to utter the words "Trent Lott" in the presence of children and the screaming wouldn't subside for three straight days. Remember?

More musing from Mark Morford.