a placeless world

I suppose it's appropriate that Hollywood is removed from Washington D.C. by the length of a vast and diverse nation.

It helps explain why Presidents Sheen, Kline, Douglas and Ford seem so far removed from Presidents Bush, Clinton, Bush and Reagan.

Truth is, for the most part, you couldn't tell one set from the other. Thespian Reagan once quipped that the greatest role he ever played was that of the president. Polls taken throughout George W. Bush's first term in office have "West Wing" President Josiah Bartlet up several points on his real-world counterpart.

And just like the real thing, Hollywood's presidents spend the majority of their time making decisions based on money, polls and partisan politics, listening to their advisors and generally playing it safe.

There's really just one difference — the reason why we leave the movie theater with shivers down our spine but leave the voting booth feeling like jellyfish. It's that one scene — usually near the end of the film — when everything changes. When most powerful man on the planet steps before of the TV cameras, looks America in the eye, shuns the advice of pollsters and political advisors…

… and admits vulnerability.

Here's Michael Douglas — as first-term President Andrew Shepherd — in the second-to-final scene of Rob Reiner's "The American President":

"I've loved two women in my life," he says, ending a policy of not talking about First Hottie Annette Bening and ending a policy of avoiding conviction in favor of election. "I lost one to cancer, and I lost the other 'cause I was so busy keeping my job I forgot to do my job.

"Well that ends right now."

Cliché? Sure. But there's a reason it is. There's just something about watching a big egomaniacal warmonger admit a mistake that's so touching, so poignant, so inspiring.

So presidential.

And yet so far removed from reality. Take Tuesday evening, when President Bush stood before the Whitehouse Press Corps for only the third time in his presidency. (Incidentally, big brave Bush's average of one press conference per year is the lowest in the nation's history.)

Bush promised the nation he would stay the course in Iraq. Promised to bring democracy, whatever the cost. Promised to "bring security to what has been a troubled part of the world."

All promises without plans, mind you. Then again, what good is a map if you don't even know where you are? Bush proved that he had no clue where he was Tuesday when he told the nation he was still holding out for "the truth on the weapons."

"I look forward to hearing the truth as to exactly where they are," he said.

Where they are, he said.

The President still believes he'll find a cache of VX gas hidden in a coffee can buried under a sand dune 20 miles southwest of Tikrit.

More power to him. I've got an uncle who thinks he's Judy Garland. It makes him happy, so we don't tell him otherwise.

While unabashedly maintaining such a delusion isn't exactly presidential, per say, it really doesn't matter. A strong percentage of America also believes Saddam Hussein was stirring up an evil concoction somewhere, and continues to have scores of scientists and soldiers so scared that no one is saying a thing about said solution.

And besides, speaking purely in terms of what's "presidential," Bush more than made up for his numerous flubs with some passionate talk about freedom.

"I believe that freedom is the deepest need of every human soul," he said, "and if given a chance, the Iraqi people will be not only self-governing, but a stable and free society."

But for an America that secretly — and sometimes not so secretly — desires a president more like the ones it gets at the box office, Bush fell short. Because even when given a big, fat, vulnerable softball to hit out of the proverbial park, he failed to act even the slightest bit human.

Question: "Two weeks ago, a former counterterrorism official at the NSC, Richard Clarke, offered an unequivocal apology to the American people for failing them prior to 9-11. Do you believe the American people deserve a similar apology from you, and would you prepared to give them one?"

Answer: "Look, I can understand why people in my administration are anguished over the fact that people lost their life. I feel the same way. I mean, I'm sick when I think about the death that took place on that day. And as I mentioned, I've met with a lot of family members, and I do the best to console them about the loss of their loved one.

"As I mentioned, I oftentimes think about what I could have done differently. I can assure the American people that had we had any inkling that this was going to happen, we would have done everything in our power to stop the attack."

Buuuuuuuuut…

"Here's what I feel about that: The person responsible for the attacks was Osama bin Laden. That's who's responsible for killing Americans. And that's why we will stay on the offense until we bring people to justice."

In other words: "No, I don't think I should apologize. Why should I apologize? It was only the single greatest number of casualties on American soil since the Civil War. And sure it happened during my watch, but I'm just one guy. What can I do? Don't look at me, it was bin Laden's fault!

"And yeah, maybe I'd do things differently, but does that mean I should apologize? That's just so… so… so… unpresidential."

And perhaps, outside of Hollywood, admitting vulnerability, fallibility and even mistakes is unpresidential.

But not un-Christian. And from a president who claims to hold Jesus Christ — a man who advocated the asking of forgiveness as a central tenet of his teaching — as his top political hero, we would be right to expect more.

And since even Christ seem to be more Hollywood than Holy Land, lately, why not?