Poor Bob Dole. The 73-year-old politician maintained his health and vitality (of body, if not of mind) for so long that he believed it was finally his turn to receive his party's nomination for the presidency. Now, it looks like the primary season may not be so kind to the aging Senator.

Perhaps we should not feel sorry for Dole. Because if Steve Forbes' support in New Hampshire turns out to be more than a fluke, and Phil Gramm and Pat Buchanan inch higher in the polls, Dole will get desperate, and the result will be painful for us all to see. Dole's initial flurry of negative attack ads has been futile, and he is now starting to reach for his secret weapon--his war injury.

If things get much worse for his campaign, Dole will start waving his wizened arm like a magic wand, frantically trying to capture the delegates he needs to win in San Diego. He will tell and retell the story of how his right arm was paralyzed. If his poll numbers continue to slip, he will begin adding tasteless details about shrapnel fragments, and finally, he will start choking into tears as he recounts the tale of his sacrifice.

If Bob Dole does not win the Republican nomination, he will die a horrible political death. We will see him vainly thrashing around in his last strongholds--the Bible Belt and the isolated pockets of the country where fundamentalism and fanaticism still rear their low brow heads. At campaign rallies, prayer breakfasts and fund raising dinners, he will constantly draw attention to his gnarled fist, until even his most ardent supporters desert him, disgusted by his shameless antics.