What's the Difference?

Byline: Rob Long

A friend from Paris called to gloat. "It looks like your side is losing." "What do you mean?" I sputtered defensively. "We're only down three games, and we've got four more to go."

"What are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?" I replied.

My friend--obviously not a Red Sox fan--knew I was a Bush supporter, and I knew it made her happy to think Bush was going to lose, and that when he did, new, wonderful changes would sweep the nation. It's sweet, really--and sad, too, because in this tight-as-a-tick, up-for-grabs race for the presidency, only one thing has always been certain: whoever wins, nothing much will change.

The American presidency, as I've patiently tried to explain to her over the years, is one of the great con jobs of all time. Every four years, we make a guy--and so far, it's always been a guy--humiliate himself in all 50 states, kissing babies, eating pie, shaking hands and begging for votes. He has to listen to inane chitchat about local issues and parochial politics, the whole time wearing an expression that says, I care deeply about your small concerns, and when in the Oval Office, I will magically address each one, while thinking, Who is this awful person and why won't he let go of my hand? Then, after begging and wheedling and weasel-wording himself into office, he discovers the terrible truth.

We're an ungovernable country. The president sits atop the chaotic, writhing knot of government--the county fiefdoms, municipal commissions, state utility boards, local legislatures, criminal courts, governors, congressmen, senators, mayors, judges, bureaucrats, whoever--like it's a huge pile of poisonous snakes. Move too fast, or too suddenly, or, really, at all, and he gets a fatal bite in the ass.