You Don't Say

Eliot Spitzer has dug himself out of a political grave and, while his fingernails are still bleeding, is out on the stump hustling for signatures and votes. This is what happens when nobody remembers that a wooden stake must be driven through the heart before earth is shoveled over the body.

Spitzer’s resurrection launched, predictably, dozens of double entendre headlines and fewer, but equally predictable, chin-pulling articles that wrestled with the question: “Why?”