MARK THOMAS DEMING: POLITICAL GURU ENTERTAINS AND INSTRUCTS AT UWT >>>

James Carville sits cross-legged in a chair, wearing tan sneakers, khaki jeans, a pink shirt, purple tie, navy-blue blazer and shades. This room on the UWT campus is small and the press-conference audience smaller â€" maybe five other people and me. This is James Carville for chrissakes, one of the great political minds of the last 50 years, the author of bestselling books, the wild and not-so-wooly CNN pundit â€" James Carville, the Ragin’ Cajun! In Tacoma! Sitting there like somebody’s funny uncle! How weird! How awesome! So where is everybody?

He seems bored. Somebody asks about transportation. Transportation! Busses and trains and carpool lanes! Potholes! This is a man who has a conference call every morning with Rahm Emanuel and George Stephanopoulos, who has Hillary on speed dial, who advised the 42nd president to say, “I didn’t inhale!”

Transportation?

Someone else asks something else. I don’t know. I’m not even listening. I’m writing stuff down. Tan sneakers. Khaki jeans. Pink shirt. Shades.

I don’t want you to think I’m impressed with famous people. Well, I am impressed with famous people, or at least I’m intrigued by fame. But that’s not what this is. This isn’t about fame. This is about power. I’m impressed by power. No, I’m intrigued by power. No, I’m fascinated â€" yes, that’s it, fascinated â€" by the phenomenon of power, of leverage, of political strength. Of all this world’s oddities, this to me is the most amazing and exotic: the crazed intricate machinery of rule. And James Carville knows how that machinery works. He can show you where the dipstick is. He can tell you how to adjust the fuel mixture. He has driven the goddamn thing! He has held the keys in his hand!

Maybe I’m a simpleton. Maybe I’m a hick. Maybe I grew up thousands of miles from Washington and hundreds of miles from the capital of a state (Montana) with one frigging representative in congress. Maybe I didn’t pay close enough attention in Civics. I don’t know. All I know is I know very little about how this country is actually run, about the closed-door meetings and polls and posturing and strong-arming and drafting and signing and gerrymandering and accusing and denying and filibustering and just what exactly the hell goes on. And I want to know. I want to know what transpires in the cockpit of this thing called America. I want to know what knob does what. I want to know what these assholes at the switches are thinking and why. And do they really put their pants on one leg at a time like the rest of us? And what do they eat for breakfast?

Carville, though â€" up close â€" is just, you know, human. He’s funny looking. He giggles. When I ask him a question, some unimportant nonsense it took me three days to think up, he answers thoughtfully and then challenges my inference. And what do I do? I challenge back. I parry with the bastard! Like I have a clue! Like we’re debating Ford versus Chevy or the latest Mariners trade. Putz for these no names! Are you out of your mind?

The dude’s funny. After the press conference, he treats a packed Philip Hall to a stand-up routine. Where’s John McCain when that phone rings at three ‘o clock in the morning? Looking for the bathroom! Ba bop ching! The interesting thing about the Republican candidates is the only one with just one wife was the Morman! You like that one? I got a million more!

And when he’s not funny, he’s inspirational. He talks about getting up when you get knocked down, about working hard, about fighting. And the thing is, he knows. He’s been there. He engineered the comeback kid, after all. Fall down seven, stand up eight is his mantra. He holds Tacoma up as an example. “You’re in the midst of what was one of the greatest failures in the western United States,” he says, speaking of downtown T-Town. Winos on the curbs! Drugs! Prostitutes! And look around you! Look at this fancy hall you’re sitting in! Look at these tasteful modern chairs! It can be done! It has been done! Keep doing it! Suddenly politics doesn’t seem so arcane. Just roll up your sleeves, this man is saying. Pitch in! Sandbag the levies! He’s not a liberal or a progressive, he tells us â€" those terms mean nothing â€" he’s an evidence-ist. Just do what works! That’s all there is to it! Don’t wring your hands, use them! He gave us the phrase, “It’s the economy, stupid.” Now he’s saying: Hey stupid, it’s you.

“To hell with the despair. To hell with the fear.” ---- James Carville