Less Dowd, not More!

I had planned to title this post, "More on Dowd," but decided that using the word "more" with respect to Maureen Dowd is hyperbole of the worst sort.  Everything about Dowd in the last few years is "less":  less amusing, less political, less the quality we expect of a New York Times columnist.  In the same week that Gail Collins, in another great column, tied together the careers of Richard the Third and Mitt Romney, burying Mitt under a transporter lubrication pit--what, by the way, is a transporter lubrication pit?  (I ask because I would really like to know), we get Maureen Dowd on George Bush Junior as artist.  I'm still not sure what point she is making, or why, and I suspect that if asked she would have a problem with the answer.  

I didn't finish reading--I couldn't.  It was boring. If she had been one of my students when I taught writing at CUNY it would have received a C, and that only because I was far too easy when handing out grades.  Dowd is no longer a political columnist probably because she's lost all passion for her subject.  Even in her heyday, Dowd traveled more to the right than the left, which is why she found it so easy to skewer the Clintons without mercy.  She's far more like her brother Kevin, a right-wing wing-nut, than even she realizes. The Times owes its readers a political columnist with a point of view, something to say, and a gift for saying it.  Maureen Dowd no longer has any of these.  It's time she retired.