George W.'s Frat-Boy Charm
            

            Margo,

            Forevermore, I'll think of my glasses and you, dear Prudie. There are so
many other matters for which I need your advice. But perhaps it is best that I
save them for a more private forum.

            On the subject of W.: One cannot fully appreciate his appeal from television
debates and Sunday-morning interviews. These settings exaggerate his
weaknesses, and that may be a fatal flaw. But there's a reason he has raised
$65 million. A whiff of his frat-boy charm is a powerful thing. Or in my case,
I got a whiff of his jockish charm. When I interviewed the man, he had just
returned from a jog. (Actually, he doesn't really smell.) Approaching the Texas
governor's mansion, I heard a voice scream from the beyond the gates, "Hey
U.S. News guy." As the gates opened, there was Bush, dripping with sweat
in shorts and T-shirt. "I got dressed up just for you." And then pointing a
finger at me, he joked, "My odor better be off the record." The next thing I
know, he's whisked me through 10 minutes of banter, offered me lunch, and has
me sitting out on the patio. Though I had spent hours concocting a strategy for
teasing information out of him, he answered my toughest question nearly at the
start. None of his answers struck me as especially stupid or brilliant, but
rather they were rather convincingly earnest. This question on Bush's
intelligence will hover over the campaign, I suspect, for the duration--a
matter that will be hashed over in many a Breakfast Table.

            Finally, we should update readers on a priceless headline from this
morning's Washington Post that has been a subject of much discussion
today. As Scott Shuger wrote, it was a "heart-wrenching story about a
9-year-old boy who concealed the accidental death of his mother for a month,
leaving her body in their home because he was afraid of being sent to an
orphanage, the Post goes with the bad taste headline of the year,
century and millennium: "Mother Died, but Boy, 9, Kept Mum." For those who were
wondering, later editions of the Post went with a more tasteful "Mother
Died, but Boy, 9, Kept Silent."

            This week has been a joy, dear Prudie. Glibness is really quite underrated.
(Jed Purdy be damned.) But it's back to my job as unironic newsmagazine writer,
which has its virtues too. Many thanks. I'm missing you already.

            Massa H.

            
               Coming next week: Daniel and David Bell visit the Breakfast
Table.