Then he goes and loses four consecutive Super Bowls, and you start to see some chinks in the armor. You want to love and believe in this learned and experienced man, but…he can’t close the deal. Whether it’s bad luck, bad judgment, bad strategy or bad wiring that causes him to stop at the figurative two-yard-line and drop the ball to the turf, he can’t finish the drive. For all his obvious skill and likability, he gets no love from the victory gods. He can’t, as Alec Baldwin’s Blake in Glengarry Glen Ross demanded, “get them to sign on the line that is dotted!”

That’s how I feel about veteran Democratic strategist Bob Shrum. For nearly forty years he’s been in the posse of Democratic party giants. He’s been the man behind the man who writes their speeches and plans their attacks, and makes them appear Presidential in a way that his jowly, rumpled self never will.

But he’s never won. To be victorious in a Presidential campaign is, in the right hands, a very possible dream. In Bob Shrum’s, it seems to be tilting at windmills. I thought John Kerry had a reasonable shot in 2004 at beating George Bush, whose poll numbers were flagging, who had us bogged down in a war that many said shouldn’t have been fought in the first place, and whose overall job performance in the first three years still had many, many Democrats sick and angry over how the Florida election officials and the U.S. Supreme Court had bludgeoned the path clear for a Bush victory. It looked like a window of opportunity, even for a staid, stilted, unexciting patrician like John Kerry. Then he went and hired Bob Shrum. Four years later, you’ll notice a conspicuous absence of “Re-Elect Kerry” bumper stickers on the freeways.

Just as I would never board an ocean liner with Molly Brown, I would never board a Presidential campaign that I wanted to win with Bob Shrum. He’s proven himself very capable at helping his candidates win tough Senate races, but, like Marv Levy, he just can’t, for whatever reason, seem to be able to take his game to the next level. Some have called it “the Shrum Curse”, others have suggested that he simply doesn’t have the big-picture focus to guide a national campaign. For whatever reason, Shrum’s resume’ at the Presidential Campaign level is far more voluminous than it should be for a man who has never successfully helped his man grab the prize.

Casually-informed Democrats beware: If you hear this man’s name associated with either the Obama or Clinton campaigns this year, pour yourself a stiff drink, sit down, and start trying to come to terms with the idea of living in John McCain’s America.

It’s not fair to blame one leading strategist for the boneheaded decisions of a campaign, but it’s hard not to see a pattern with the men whose campaigns Shrum has been calling the shots or whose doorstep he’s darkened–mainly, they’ve all been losers.

John Kerry: Bob’s reputation preceded him. Joe Klein wrote a piece in early 2002, “The Trouble With Shrum”, where he said correctly, “If history is any guide, Shrum’s choice (for President) will lose either a) the nomination or b) the general election.” This was a close race right to the end, and a race Kerry had every chance of winning. Which makes it all the more mystifying why Kerry would leave $16 million sitting in his bank account that could have been spent on ad buys and boots on the ground in some of the closer states. Halfway into Election Day, they thought they had it in the can, and Shrum drafted a victory speech for the next President of the United States, and the first of his long and losing stable of prize ponies. Very nearly at tears, Bob believed on Election Night ’04 that this was the night of his redemption. And then came Ohio.

Al Gore: Bill Clinton was on a golf course with Terry McAuliffe on the weekend before the 2000 Election, practically livid. “There is no reason I should be here with you and not out there.” He meant “out there” on the campaign trail, and he was right. He was one of the most popular Presidents in decades and, his sexual dalliances notwithstanding, America was sitting fat and sassy going into the 2000 race, and Al Gore wanted no part of the man who had overseen that. Shrum was helping lead Gore’s team.

Bob Kerrey: After Mario Cuomo, Sam Nunn, and Al Gore opted out of the 1992 race, Kerrey was an early favorite among the lesser candidates that the media dubbed “the Seven Dwarves”. Shrum signed up to stand in Kerrey’s corner. Kerrey was one of the first Democrats to drop out of the race.

Dick Gephardt: Shrum’s first choice in the 1988 Democratic Presidential race. After an inconsequential victory in the Iowa caucuses, Gephardt’s campaign, widely perceived at the time as misguided and somewhat inept, collapsed and Shrum went on to work for…Michael Dukakis.

Ted Kennedy: Shrum signed on for Kennedy’s insurgent campaign to defeat the incumbent Jimmy Carter for the 1980 Presidential nomination. Carter won.

Edmund Muskie, John Lindsay, George McGovern: A younger and more vigorous man at the time, the not-yet-thirty Shrum had enough fuel in his tank in 1971 and 1972 to participate in three losing Presidential efforts.

And you’ll never hear this most feared famous short man since Robert Blake, because they aren’t letting him debate the monied candidates (it was a poetic accident that Tuesday’s debate was held at Las Vegas’ “Cashman Center”). Is this how they’re going to warm up for the most exciting election in our lifetime? Are they already looking ahead to their yawning, no-heavy-lifting showdown against the Washington Generals that they don’t dare let a little hotshot on their practice court, lest he show the world they’re no Harlem Globetrotters?

Honestly, is this the message they’re going to send? Squaring off against the weakest Republican field in at least a generation, they’re afraid of one of their own?

The biggest story of tonight’s Nevada Democratic debate didn’t take place on the stage, but outside the fallowed halls of the Nevada Supreme Court, where Dennis Kucinich had to cool his heels while the men on the bench had the say over who the game’s starters were going to be.

NBC took the principled position that they’d decided that only the top three finishers would be allowed to appear, but don’t think for a moment that the Democratic Party powers-that-be didn’t have their fingerprints all over this. For all their artful vitriol against one another, the Democrats still want to stay on message and appear to be a fairly happy family. But no happy family ever likes each other that much, and no one likes the black sheep brother to come home at Thanksgiving and say that the new baby is ugly.

It doesn’t matter if it was MSNBC alone or MSNBC heavily pressured by the Democratic Party apparatus who wanted Kucinich off that stage tonight. Neither wanted him there.

Why is everyone afraid of this tiny man? It’s perfectly conceivable that NBC didn’t want him on a rostrum tonight any more than they ever have for the simple rules of telegenics: He looks funny. If they were honest, from them that’s an explanation I’d be able to accept. News long ago stopped being about the issues. You can bring all the political integrity you want to the table, but it’s not going to fly if you don’t look good selling it.

As for the Democrats, he really is the surly and opinionated brother that no one wants at the Thanksgiving table, but there may be a bigger reason at work here, as I realized with a little help from a friend. As I puzzled over the Kucinich conundrum tonight with my co-author and compadre, Wayne, he reminded me of Ava Gardner when asked about her relationship with Frank Sinatra and why she bothered with this 119-pound lightweight who, at the time, had no conceivable future in the popular world. “Well, I’ll tell you”, she replied cooly, “19 pounds is cock.”

That may explain everything right there. Of the dozen and a half or so candidates to appear on either rostrum, only wee little Dennis Kucinich has had the stones to step up and put some real teeth in his “J’accuse!” of the current administration. Whatever your political affiliation, it’s hard to deny that the Bush-Cheney team is any more comfortable with the truth than Bill Clinton has ever been with celibacy and fidelity, and if extramarital fellatio is enough to warrant impeachment hearings, then (pick one) Blackwater, Guantanamo, Attorneygate, Contempt of Congress, and approval ratings that suggest most Americans wouldn’t trust them to mow their lawn let alone run their country–any one of those dubious resume entries should at least be worth an afternoon in front of the C-Span cameras and Carl Levin or snide, strident Joe Biden and his bad hairplugs.

But no one wants to upset the apple cart too much, lest they get tarred with the same brush as the ’98 Congressional Republicans who voted for articles of impeachment against a President with a 69% approval rating.

Dennis Kucinich doesn’t care, though. He doesn’t have any big endorsements to lose. Texas, New York, California, and Florida are still likely going to go to someone else.

At the end of the day, no one should be afraid of this diminutive little powermouse. He may have a 19-pound cock, but he’s not going to stick it up your loading dock or use it on your wife. He may however use it as a cudgel to rap you across your myopic skull and wake you up to start asking the right questions and speaking “WTF???” to power. That’s good for America, good for politics, and good for ratings (even if it does make a lot of people feel inadequate).

I believe that Bill Clinton won the Presidency in 1992 in part because at least 30% of the male electorate achieved some semblance of an erection at the site of circa-1992 Hillary (especially after twelve years of looking at Barbara Bush) and that at least 60% respected Bill because they knew he could nail any woman he wanted. I believe that Pete Rose should be allowed into Cooperstown unless someone can prove that he bet on Dan Quayle winning the 1988 GOP Vice Presidential nomination. And I believe with every fiber of my being that most Americans choose their Presidential candidates on the most superficial of criteria and not one whit of policy expertise.

Paul Tsongas never had a prayer of beating Bill Clinton for the nomination–his New Hampshire victory notwithstanding. America plain and simple wouldn’t elect a man with a grating and Fuddian inability to succesfully enunciate his “l”s and “r”s. (“Sewiouswy. Biww Cwinton is what I caww ‘the Pandew Beaw’.”)

Make no mistake: I have always liked New Mexico Governor Bill Richardson. Among this year’s crop of Presidential candidates, few can match his resume–U.N. Ambassador, Secretary of Energy, Congressman, Governor (and twice, he’s destroyed his Republican competition for Governor). He has a masterful grasp of foreign policy. Never mind that he really shat himself once, calling homosexuality “a choice”, but that’s an anomaly that he retracted, so I’m willing to let that one go. He’s smart, he’s quick on the issues, he’s witty, he’s likable.

In terms of policy and expertise, he’s one sexy dude, But no matter how smart he is, this country will never elect a President who looks like the pathetic but lovable foil on a Ray Romano sitcom. We’re Americans, and we have hard-fought shallow values to uphold. Bill Richardson would be fine sitting in with Los Lobos or playing Paul Rodriguez in the big-screen version of “AKA Pablo”. But President? Please.

We are a country who applauds Jenny Craig Triumphs, and that’s why a personable but insane fringe Christian like Mike Huckabee has done as well as he has. Sure, he has no organization, sure he’s crazy, but he lost 100 pounds! Never mind that Bill Richardson would never connect Benazir Bhutto’s assassination with America’s immigration problems (unless he was coming off a long weekend smoking angel dust), or that he doesn’t equate homosexuality with having anal reach-arounds with dead baby farm animals, the question is: How good does he look on camera? We’ll tolerate a funny-looking intelligent candidate in the pre-election runup, but primary season is where the rubber meets the road.

It’s a reality of our telegenic age, as old as the storied Nixon-Kennedy debate in 1960 (you’ll remember that Nixon was overwhelmingly judged the winner by those who heard the debate on radio). Seriously, would Mitt Romney be anywhere near this race if he looked like Dennis Kucinich? And where would Dennis Kucinich be if he looked like Mitt Romney?

So at the end of the day, though Richardson did lose weight, he just didn’t lose enough. Another 50 or so pounds and if he’d gotten his Antonio Banderas on, he could have contended. Another 25 and he could still be Vice President. At his current poundage, he’ll have to be happy governing a 2nd-tier border state.