I would rather be bored to death and actually put to sleep by someone telling me he couldn't remember whether he threw his war ribbons or his war medals over a fence and something about not owning a stupid SUV, but maybe his wife owns one. Snore, snore, tell me more John Kerry.

Did you see George W. Bush recently, in his rose garden, speaking to the press? He scared me to death talking about how well things are going in Iraq. There he was in his presidential regalia, the proper suit, the proper tie, the ever present starched white shirt. But, what was wrong with this elegant look? What? I stared at the TV screen. Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, he's smiling and he's jubilant, with supreme confidence, about his war and yet, and yet, oh yes, look - his suit coat is bulging; it's strained to the limit, and he's almost bursting his buttons! In his own cozy rose garden, he's wearing a bulletproofed vest!