The Death of Outrage opens with a superb example of Washington greasiness: "It is a fairly well known fact, I suppose, that I am a public critic of President Clinton. What is less well known is that it has not always been thus."

Let's examine this. The opening sentence is designed to brag about Bennett's fame, but not so obviously that you notice. Thus, the throat-clearing "I suppose." What does "I suppose" do? It makes Bennett seem like a modest, unassuming fellow, a regular guy surprised to find himself standing smack-dab in the middle of a bully pulpit. What he supposes has nothing to do with anything. It's pure false modesty.

The second sentence, besides slathering on the pomposity, is designed to establish Bennett's nonpartisan credentials, proving that this book is not a vicious attack by a political enemy but a regretful essay by a disillusioned friend. Over the next few paragraphs Bennett plays this theme, talking about his admiration for President Clinton, about the kind words they said about each other, and about how he slowly lost his respect for the president in the face of mounting evidence of corruption.

The notion that Bennett is a friend slowly disillusioned by a corrupt presidency is laughable. A quick Nexis search reveals that Bennett was savaging Clinton even before he became president. In 1992, Bennett wrote a vicious article in the National Review about Clinton's political opportunism and lack of personal character. By Inauguration Day in 1993 Bennett was saying, "I am sort of tired of him already. ... I find him cloying." Just weeks later Bennett criticized Clinton's absence of core convictions. This is not to say Bennett's 1992-93 attacks were wrong: They seem prescient. But they also render absurd the self-serving claim that Bennett was not always a political enemy of Clinton.