Slip on This - How George W. avoids the banana peel.

Charlie Chaplin once explained that there are two ways to film the old guy-slips-on-a-banana-peel joke. The first, unfunny, way goes like this: Cut to the guy walking, oblivious. Cut to the banana peel, lying in wait. Cut to a wide shot of the guy approaching the banana peel. Cut to a closeup of the banana peel, just as the guy's foot hits it. Cut back to the wide shot, as the guy slips on the peel and lands on his rear end, which, as everyone knows from cartoons, is the funniest part of the human body and one that registers no real pain.

The second, funny, way to film that same sequence is as follows: Cut to the guy, walking. Cut to the banana peel, lying in wait. Cut to a wide shot of the guy approaching the banana peel. Cut to a closeup of the banana peel, just as the guy's foot almost hits it. Cut back to the wide shot, as the guy deftly steps over the banana peel, smiling smugly . . . and falls into an open manhole.

Get the difference?

Being funny, like being married or being president, is really just a matter of managing expectations. You make people expect you to slip on the banana peel. You lead them, through selective takes and camera work, to connect the dots just a few seconds ahead of the action. You flatter them, ultimately, into assuming that they've got it all figured out. And then you fall into an open manhole.

So let us stipulate, at the outset, that former vice president Dan Quayle is a man of average to slightly above-average mental capacity. He's probably a lot smarter than that, of course, but for the purposes of our discussion here, let's just leave it at "average." Let us further stipulate that President George W. Bush is also a man of average to slightly above-average mental capacity. Both, though, have slightly lower reputations in the smarts department.

Quayle attacked the problem in the most obviously logical way: He acted smart, gave smart speeches, stopped smiling so much, and in general tried to button up his persona. But there's only so much you can do to burnish your image when you're vice president of the United States. And the true effect of all of that image enhancement isn't to drain the funny out of the joke, it's to make it even funnier. What's funnier than a dumb guy trying to act smart? Imagine that, when you cut to the guy walking down the street, he's walking beside a pretty girl, trying to act cool and together. He's dressed up and acting suave and maybe acting a little tough, maybe showing off a little. Then he slips on a banana peel. You don't even need the open manhole. It stops being a joke about a guy and a banana peel, and instead becomes a joke about a guy pretending to be someone he's not.

I think it's fair to say of George W. Bush that although he's talented in many ways, he is incapable of pretending to be someone he's not. Aware of his own tendency to Cuisinart the English language, when he's got something important to say, he says it with index cards. When thoroughly rehearsed, he gives a good speech, but his teleprompter style is strictly phonetic-the words come out clearly, but the inflection is a little weird at times, and the line breaks come whenever the screen, or the index cards, need to go to the next page, sort of like: "We have communicated to the Chinese. Government and have expressed our desire. To see our servicemen and women return. With our aircraft to their families." I imagine that these are the sort of speeches a President e. e. cummings might make.