My mother does not have a mean bone in her body. X-rays have confirmed this fact. Nonetheless, on those occasions when the flawed policies and personality of George W. Bush come up in conversation, my mother becomes positively uncharitable. She is apt to call the President a “stinker.” (And then she is apt to apologize for using such harsh language and explain how he just makes her so mad.) As I am my mother’s son and the mango does not fall far from the tree, I fully concur with mameleh. Indeed, in moments of extreme outrage, it would not be unusual for me to refer to Mr. Bush as a son of a bitch or even worse. (In deference to my mother and the faint of heart, I will resist elaboration.) Suffice it to say that Boy George evokes more than a little antipathy among the Jaffe clan. He could not be less popular if he bathed in a vat of putrid gefilte fish and then tried to mask the smell with a half-gallon chaser of Aqua Velva.

We are not alone in finding the President a tad repellent. According to the latest poll conducted for Newsweek, “the public’s approval of Bush has sunk to 28 percent, an all-time low for this president.” Such flagging favor suggests “the commander guy” is more a leprous than a lame duck. And for the bastard sons of Bush, the members of his own party who would like to hold onto the White House and regain control of Congress in 2008, their less-than-esteemed leader is currently a political liability. The coat tails have become anchor chains. What’s a Republican to do?

Last week, in their first debate, the tin ten members of the Grand Old Party who covet the presidency demonstrated their prowess as contortionists, making every effort to twist reality and imply that they are the political progeny of Ronald Reagan rather than George W. Bush. “One by one, they invoked Reagan 19 times. In contrast, Bush’s name was barely uttered.” Amazingly, as a whole, the candidates were more willing to admit that they do not believe in evolution than to invoke the President’s name. For all intents and purposes, they have disowned him. ‘Twas a decidedly sad day indeed for the Decider.

But this is no time to feel sorry for Mr. Bush. The deep hole he presently occupies is one that he dug himself—which is more than one can say for the 3,377 (and counting) American soldiers he has dispatched to early graves via the killing fields of Iraq. And, inexplicably, the President continues to shovel, as though the way out is further down. What he lacks in judgment he more than makes up for in obstinacy. While a majority of Democrats and a minority of Republicans are willing to call a spade a spade and decry the President’s foolishness, there remain a considerable number of folks on the conservative end of the spectrum who prefer to either ignore the gaping hole at their feet or admire it and laud Mr. Bush for being so down-to-earth. I cannot fathom any of it.

Many years ago, my mother had a piece of paper tucked into the corner of her bedroom mirror, on which was inscribed the following quotation: “Insanity is hereditary; you get it from your children.” (By the way, it was only my two brothers who drove my mother nuts. I was a perfect child.) There is another well-known quotation, by none other than Benjamin Franklin: “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” If one goes by Franklin’s definition, President Bush is off his rocker. He is also a danger to others. He will not listen to reason and, ever the spoiled child, believes that “no one understands him.” The time is long overdue for an intervention. Mr. Bush needs to be either impeached or placed in a secure psychiatric facility or sent to his room for the remainder of his presidency. The nation can ill afford any more digging. Even my dear, sweet mother can see that.