Jewish, is he?'' "No, why?'' a journalist asked. "Well, he seems like such a mensch. Can a mensch be president?''
Campaigns reach a point where those who run, those who assist, and those who follow come to share a strange unreality. Exhaustion becomes their common bond. The polls direct their travels as the candidates search for the "Magic 270,'' the electoral votes needed for victory. At the end of Clinton's last marathon, a grueling nine-state, twenty-nine-hour journey to one airport rally after another, only the pilot really knew where they were. Clinton's voice was gone; he managed a few words but Hillary did most of the talking. In Cincinnati, on the morning before election day, Clinton ate a chili dog as he
