This Monday your W Team spent a lovely and exciting day at the mall!
 
Exciting, because while at the K-Mart we saw Saddam Hussein! Yes! We spotted him just as he was going up the escalator in the Martha Stewart section. We called out, but we don't think he heard us.
 
Oh, and it was the Las Vegas Saddam, not the Comeback Saddam.
 
We had gone to purchase a flag-motif towel set for the guest bathroom, but were disappointed to discover that the flags had only 49 stars. That would have been all right, but the salesclerk was unable to assure us that the missing star was California's, and rather than honor a state presently out of favor with our President, we thought it better to make a different choice.
 
While rambling through the food court we ran into Harlan Sweetsong. Harlan is one of those who teeter on the line that separates brilliance from madness--a master of visionary excess. That his ideas have made him wealthy beyond the dream is further proof or the unfairness of the universe.
 
"Perfect!" he exulted upon seeing us. "The very ones I was looking for!" Which was very bad news, as it meant we were about to be drenched in another of his mental rainstorms. "Listen," he said, waving a bound document in our faces, "I've got a proposal I'd like you guys to look over and give me your opinion."
 
"Yes?" we equivocated, looking apprehensively at the superabundance of paper in his hand.
 
"Get this," he said excitedly, "'The People's Advocates'. Huh? Huh? 'The People's Advocates' Is that great, or what?"
 
Oh, yes, we agreed, trying desperately to edge past him. It sounded like an intellectual marvel, we assured him, as we eyed the door. So near yet so far.
 
"I thought it up last week," he said, adroitly blocking our exit, "Then I refined it." At last we surrendered and opened the floodgates by admitting we had absolutely no idea what the hell he was talking about.
 
"It's simple," he said. "Each state selects an advocate to represent them in stuff they're concerned about. Then all the advocates get together and work out a plan for the whole country. Isn't that great? Everyone's view gets represented!"
 
It never pays to confront Harlan with petty reality, so in the interests of conversational acceleration we framed our response in the terms of his vision. Wasn't there, we asked, some danger that the advocates might in time cease to represent their constituents and come to act solely in their own interests?
 
"Oh, I don't think so," he said, "The job won't be that attractive. The advocates wouldn't be paid very much beyond minimum wage plus out-of-pocket expenses. Gifts and honoraria of any kind would be strictly forbidden. They'd be required to live within the confines of the same policies they enacted, and they wouldn't receive any perks or special treatment. The only reward would be the honor of serving and the knowledge that they had made a contribution to their nation and to history. And the job itself would be so onerous that eventually even that wouldn't be enough, and few of them would want to stay beyond their four-year term.
 
But suppose they did, we supposed, and then overrode the wishes of their electorate?
 
"Well," he said, "Then the states just wouldn't let them be advocates anymore. The people'd vote for someone else."
 
And, we asked, they would know how to vote, because...
 
"Because they would be so familiar with the issues, and it'd simply be a matter of evaluating the candidates' qualifications and intentions in the light of their knowledge."
 
What, we asked, about the people who didn't vote?
 
He seemed surprised. "Well of course everyone would vote. What kind of idiot would leave such an important choice to someone else?"
 
After a moment we asked why he thought they would necessarily be familiar with the issues.
 
"It's obvious," he said, "democracy can't exist without an informed public. So the proposal makes education a top priority--even more important than defense. Also, there'd be a lot of social pressure to be an informed citizen. If we handle it right, ignorance itself would come to be regarded as unpatriotic. "Plus," he said, "What kind of idiot would vote without knowing all they could about the issues?"
 
We again thought for a moment, then asked how would the public know that their advocates were doing a good job?
 
"Oh," he said, "The usual: letters, phone calls, regular town hall meetings where'd they'd question the advocates, make suggestions, that sort of thing. Occasionally they'd go watch their advocates in action. And, of course, everyone would read and watch the media a lot."
 
Our media? We asked, somewhat surprised.
 
"Well," he said, shrugging, "Not as they're presently constituted, of course. But an educated public wouldn't tolerate misleading or incomplete journalism, so after all the incompetent media withered away the few that were left would become indispensable resources for civic participation.
 
"And," he continued, "Everyone would use the media to keep track of their advocates, because what kinds of idiots wouldn't keep tabs on the people who represented them?'
 
Left with no choice but to approach the matter directly, we confessed we had no interest in reviewing his proposal because a system similar to the one he described was already in existence; namely, Congress.
 
"Oh, really?" he said with surprised interest, "How's that working out?"
 
There was silence as we considered his question.
 
Then we said, "Let's see your proposal".