COATTAILS FOR TWO

       The President awakened one morning and found his coattails were soiled. When all the detergent and whitewater in the White House couldn't make them come clean, he went to see Morrie the Tailor.
       "A nice set of coattails as long as the Mississippi and wider than the prairies I made for you less than two years ago,"said Morrie. "What happened?"
       "It was the strangest thing,"said the President. "One day they were long and clean, but then not a month after I became president, a corporate lawyer and her illegal alien-nanny turned them into a diaper and stained them."
       "That truly is strange,"said Morrie, "but for you, we can make another pair."
       "As long and as wide as the first pair,"said the President. "Not so long. Not so wide. But a nice pair."
        A few months later, the President returned, holding a very ragged pair of coattails.
       "Morrie, I need your help again,"said the President.
       "These coattails,"asked Morrie, "why did you allow your cat to use them for a scratching post?"
       "If only it were Socks,"said a wearied President. "First, Ross Perot started nipping at them, then some military officers who didn't ask and don't tell me anything shot them full of holes, and some lady in Arkansas accused me of horrible things, and soiled them."
       "Ach, a tragedy it is,"said Morrie. "But, for you, another pair of coattails I will make."
        And so Morrie the Tailor made another nice pair of coattails. They weren't long. They weren't wide. But at least they were coattails, and they fit perfectly. Not a few months later, the President was back. The coattails had shrunk worse than if they were cotton that had been spun-washed and heat-dried."
       "Again with the coattails?"Morrie asked.
       "Somalia. Haiti. Cuba,"said the President wearily. "Every time I make a policy, someone objects, so I make another one, sometimes in less than an hour, and someone else objects. It's so frustrating."
       "Not as frustrating as to make coattails and watch them disintegrate,"said Morrie.
       "I don't understand,"said the somber president, "in the first year alone, I did more for my fellow Americans than the Republicans did in 12 years."
"You must look at your past,"said Morrie, "for history is made by the quest of mankind for its survival."
       "What does all that mean?"asked the President.
       "Go home. Get a good night's rest, and focus like a laser beam."
        In a few weeks, the President was back at the tailor shop. Not only didn't he have any coattails, his hair looked as if it were run through a Vegematic—and, he wasn't wearing any pants.
       "Oy gevalt!"cried Morrie. "What to you has happened?"
       "I tried to focus like a laser beam,"said the President.
       "So what happened?"
       "Bob Dole happened,"said the President. "He and his cronies have blocked, barred, and barricaded. Hindered, impeded, and obstructed. Foiled, frustrated, and filibustered so long that the coattails just went limp, and before I knew it the pants were also missing."
       "Pants I will make you,"said Morrie. "And coattails? Perhaps this pair you might make of Teflon. Just like the pair you made for President Reagan."
       "A frying pan? Is that what you think I make? Teflon I never use!"
       "But how did everything slide off of him?"asked the President. "Not even Irangate stuck!"
       "Illusion,"said Morrie. "People thought he had Teflon coattails. It made no difference if he did or didn't. In politics, illusion is more important than reality."
       "Can you make me an illusion?"the President pleaded.
       "I am but a simple tailor,"said Morrie, "From whole cloth I can cut anything, but an illusion I can cut not."
       "But what can I do?"the President pleaded. "If I don't have any coattails, none of the politicians will be able to hold onto me for support. The crime bill isn't everything it should be, the health care plan is almost dead, and I won't be able to help the people."
        Morrie thought a moment. "Have your people tell the public the President has coattails as long as the Mississippi and wider than the prairies, and that anyone can hold onto them. For the people, you tell them they have to believe there are coattails."
       "And if they believe—?"
       "They will clap, and the coattails will be there."