One Angry Man.(Keith Olbermann)

It was nearly midnight before Keith Olbermann left the NBC News election studio on May 13th, having spent five hours on the air, co-anchoring coverage of the West Virginia Democratic primary. Olbermann had a short ride home from Rockefeller Plaza to his condominium on the Upper East Side, and he was in bed by 2 A.M. But he lay wide awake, overcome by an urge to get up and move about. He has been given a diagnosis of Wittmaack-Ekbom's syndrome, also known as "restless-legs syndrome" (and also "the kicks," "Jimmy legs," and "jitters"), a neurological disorder that produces a prickling, itching, or crawling feeling in the legs, profoundly disturbing sleep. Reclining exacerbates the condition, so Olbermann got out of bed, took a pill for the ailment, and, while waiting for the drug to kick in, scrolled through his BlackBerry, scanning recent messages. One arrested his attention. It was a link to the Web site Politico, which featured an interview conducted that day with President Bush. Olbermann was struck by two questions from the interview, and by Bush's answers to them:

Q: Mr. President, turning to the biggest issue of all, Iraq. Various people and various candidates talk about pulling out next year. If we were to pull out of Iraq next year, what's the worst that could happen, what's the doomsday scenario? , BUSH: Doomsday scenario of course is that extremists throughout the Middle East would be emboldened, which would eventually lead to another attack on the United States. The biggest issue we face is--it's bigger than Iraq--it's this ideological struggle against cold-blooded killers who will kill people to achieve their political objectives. Iraq just happens to be a part of this global war. . . ., Q: Mr. President, you haven't been golfing in recent years. Is that related to Iraq? , BUSH: Yes, it really is. I don't want some mom whose son may have recently died to see the Commander-in-Chief playing golf. I feel I owe it to the families to be as--to be in solidarity as best as I can with them. And I think playing golf during a war just sends the wrong signal.

Olbermann suddenly had another sensation, unrelated to neurology--a feeling, he later recalled, that was "like being hit by lightning." He sat down at his computer and began to write. After an hour, he had the first draft of a lacerating indictment of Bush, a twelve-minute-long (eighteen pages in teleprompter script) j 'accuse, addressed personally to the President.

"Mr. Bush, at long last, has it not dawned on you that the America you have now created includes 'cold-blooded killers who will kill people to achieve their political objectives'?" Olbermann wrote. "They are those in--or formerly in--your employ, who may yet be charged some day with war crimes."

The denunciation hit the high notes of the most fevered antiwar rhetoric, accusing Bush (he of the "addled brain"), his alleged puppet master ("the American snake-oil salesman Dick Cheney"), and the "tragically know-it-all minions," "sycophants," and "mental dwarves" who serve them in the Administration of perpetrating a "panoramic and murderous deceit" on America and the world. Intelligence was faked, W.M.D.s were imagined, Iraq was laid waste, and American freedoms were trashed.

Olbermann turned to Bush's golf remark, which he called the "final blow to our nation's solar plexus." He wrote:

Mr. Bush, I hate to break it to you six and a half years after you yoked this nation and your place in history to the wrong war, in the wrong place, against the wrong people, but the war in Iraq is not about you. . . . It is not, Mr. Bush, about your golf game! And, sir, if you have any hopes that next January 20th will not be celebrated as a day of soul-wrenching, heartfelt thanksgiving, because your faithless stewardship of this presidency will have finally come to a merciful end, this last piece of advice . . . when somebody asks you, sir, about your gallant, noble, self-abnegating sacrifice of your golf game so as to soothe the families of the war dead. This advice, Mr. Bush: Shut the hell up!