Mrs. Feeny is not herself these days. It's been several weeks since we inadvertently misplaced her during our relocation to the Perilous Potomac. As we had hoped and expected, she was eventually recovered-in this case from a wardrobe box-and restored to her customary allegedly normal state with a few healing applications of Hennessy's VSOP. But now it seems that in consequence of her travail a newer and more contemplative Mrs. Feeny has emerged from the chrysalis.
 
Take, for example, election night. As that drama unfolded, the old lady sat staring fixedly at the progress of the televised tally, knitting and rocking at an increasingly furious pace-disturbing, since there are no rocking chairs in the media room. And as the chorus of Republican victory swelled to crescendo, she began to emit sharp little squeals of pleasure, as might a squirrel discovering acorn ice cream.
 
Our rising alarm subsided when we recalled that she held a significant number of shares in the company Elections Systems and Software. As some may know, ES&S provides more than half of the voting machines used in U.S. elections, and now finds itself the center of a growing controversy in light of the discovery that it appears to be controlled solely by ultra-conservative interests. Immediately upon receiving this intelligence we relaxed, realizing that the canny oldster's behavior indicated nothing more than a healthy interest in her investment.
 
We hasten to say that, of course, "control" does not necessarily imply "manipulation"-a distinction uppermost in our minds in this rapaciously litigious age. And what is more, apart from the financial peril open speculation along these lines might entail, fraud would in this case seem superfluous since it now appears that Democrats need no enemy other than themselves.
 
Last week, on their way to world domination, a funny thing happened to the Democrats.
 
The American electorate is a remarkably, let us say, "flexible" creature, and an almost preternaturally forgiving one as well-as the most cursory survey of current office-holders will confirm. But there is a limit even to the seemingly bottomless tolerance of the American voter.
 
An effective political campaign will have three elements: (1) one or more plausible candidates; (2) at least one engaging issue--however minimal; and (3); an electoral base capable of entering and leaving the voting booth without sustaining serious physical injury. Winning requires at least two of these. When all three are absent things get a little dicey.
 
The lesson that may be drawn from this election is that political hopefuls must offer coin of some sort, because it appears the American public is no longer interested in IOUs.
 
The Democratic Party was severely punished for their apparent ignorance of that truth. While Republicans drove to the polls, Democrats stayed away in droves. Many treasured icons fell that night, chief among them Fritz Mondale, who, rather like Punxsutawney Phil, emerged from the comfortable hole of retirement, but failed to notice his shadow-and that of the steamroller behind him.
 
Liberals now find themselves adrift on the wine-dark sea of politics, uncertain which direction is homer. Those not still in coma feel a deep sense of betrayal: the promised liberal Pit Bull poised to vanquish the rampaging reactionary elephant, turned out to be only a barking Chihuahua in the path of a freight train.
 
And in consequence there is a growing sentiment among Democrats that party leaders should be rewarded with a torchlight parade-complete with pitchforks. (We hate those things; the tar is always too hot, and the feathers tickle something awful.)
 
Perhaps it is time for liberals to pony up and admit that they have seriously misjudged our President. Prior to recent events there was a snide assumption that if Mr. Bush worked hard, applied himself diligently and got a few lucky breaks he might pass for an idiot.
 
But how now, the cowed highbrows of the left? They have reversed field and presently speak of him in tones previously reserved to Alexander the Great. But this latter perception is no more correct than its predecessor; the President is just Reg'lar Folks; just like the rest of us-with many millions in the bank, palatial mansions scattered about the country, and a finger poised above the planet's auto-destruct button-just an everyday kind of guy.
 
And hoo, boy! Is he popular! The War Leader's charisma is plainly evident in the election returns, as throughout the night state after state heard his call and flocked to him; first this state flocked, then that state flocked, and by the end of the evening the nation was flocked beyond belief.
 
And now the GOP is back. Erased overnight is the calumnious treachery of the scapegrace Jeffords, and the whole of government is once again in responsible hands.
 
And now we can go on just as if that had never happened.
 
And now we must ask the question, "whither the Democratic Party?" Eschewing the temptation to coin the word "nither," we offer the opinion that Democratic strategists must stop, as the President says, "misunderestimating" him, and instead start underestimating him correctly. Then perhaps the Party can pull itself together, find candidates that don't depress everyone, and offer some discernible theory of government. Surely such a thing is possible.
 
Okay, just kidding.
 
More likely the Party will immediately conclude-with arguable justification-that the politics of accommodation are founded on a bankrupt philosophy. Then they will engage in an internecine war of political purification and swerve to the left so sharply that the g-forces will cause blackouts.
 
In short we suspect that the refurbished Party of Jackson will labor to draw a line in the sand without regard to the price for doing so, and will focus on being distinct rather than being of distinction. There will be those of course who will point out the obvious: that such a strategy risks further alienating the public and causing something terrible to happen-such as, for example, losing control of all three branches of the government.
 
And in the end we anticipate a return to old-style oligarchic manipulation; that at some point a Tremble of Democrats will convene to re-groom the same worn-out old war-horses they trot out at every opportunity-a prospect that renders Republican leaders giddy with anticipation. (Democrats are not giddy just now, inasmuch as their sense of humor is still at the cleaners' being steamed and depressed.)
 
A sad plight, and one that reminds us ever more of Bill Cosby's "Little Ole Man" who was run over by a railroad train at the same time every day. When asked why he continued to subject himself to this perennial calamity, the old man replied: "Because I can not believe it is happening'"
 
Cheers, poll-watchers,
 
Hank