In a perfect world -- heck, in a lousy world just a little less imperfect than this one -- Barack Obama would long ago have been hounded out of office by the deafening roar of public outrage.  No one would have needed to be so long concerned about his documentation, or his many legislative and regulatory outrages.  And certainly no one would expect him to be reelectable, alas.

But his golfing jaunt on Memorial Day in that ridiculous getup, and with that hat and those sunglasses and that one white glove and that grin making him look like some wannabe-safari-going dilettante --  all that was missing was his thumb on his nose and his four bony fingers wiggling at the camera, so much was he acting out like a wicked little boy -- should push even the most indulgent, dedicated Democrat over the edge of decorum and straight into the market for a tub of tar and a sack of feathers.  How many fathers, brothers, sons, did he diss with each drive, each stroke, each putt?

And what is there about the modern American left that it seems to welcome accompaniment by ever-more revolting displays of the devolution of what used to be called manners?  By its putative leader, no less.  Perhaps liberals themselves don't know the answer, swimming as they are in a sewer so befouled with their own crudities that their polluted little corner of the world seems, if not pristine, well, then, at least as clean as anywhere else.

But it would surely be a step in the right direction toward the salvation of the United States if, some day before November, 2012, some millions of those hitherto unnauseated denizens of this very unappetizing swamp would suddenly sniff the water, and smell the sewage, and then resolve with one little flick of the finger, or a single black mark on a ballot -- either one would take far less energy than yelling "fore" -- to consign this links Chanticleer to political pasture for ever and anon, amen.