Entry 1:

Hi, Honey. Did you see the papers this morning? (Why of course I did, Sweetie, because I stole them out of your bag at the gym this morning.)

Well, in the few minutes I managed to steal them back (while you were treadmilling away, no doubt mesmerized by Katie Couric's on-air colonoscopy), I noted they were, for the first time in many days, blissfully free of heavy-breathing "news analysis" about the role of religion in politics. I read all those articles, and still, I, Miss Religion Reporter, don't really get this latest flare-up, over Bush's visit to Bob Jones University. Generally, these political flapdoodles resonate because they tap into some suppressed prejudice (Willie Horton). But dredge up as many JFK references as you want and you still won't convince me the average Protestant still hates the Catholics, and vice versa.

Maybe the answer is less sociological than pheremonal. The religious right's hatred of McCain is viscerally, inexplicably venomous. It goes way beyond his support for campaign-finance reform. I think they've just sniffed him out; despite that 100 percent voting record, they know he's not one of them. Bush, like them, is a born-again yuppie, all quivering lip and self-analysis. McCain is too vintage for them. He speaks in the idiom of their grandfather's, not their own. Bush uses words like "in my heart" and "personal savior"; McCain uses WWII lingo like "honor" and "valor."

Otherwise, the papers are in a lull before Super Tuesday, as political reporters gear up for that one last push before they can finally go home and see the kids, change their socks, etc. Headlines today are analysis-free and industry-newsletter-tired, the equivalent of: McCain Wants To Win and Bush Does Too. Latest sign Bradley is doomed: His campaign seems to have been assigned to the metro reporters.

I pause to make a proposal. In honor of tomorrow, let's say we label these Breakfast Tables for each day of the week, so today will be Manic Monday, tomorrow Super Tuesday, then Big Gulp Wednesday, etc. What do you say?

What do you make of this Friend of Dubya Wyly character, (except for his infinite headline possibilities)? No doubt he and Bush were colluding, but is that any worse than doing the same thing as it's usually done by these independent supporters, which is telepathically? At least one thing about him is more honest. When the ads say "Paid for by the Friends of Bush," in this case they are more accurate.

(By the way, never asked you: Do you identify more with the coyote or the roadrunner?)

Random thought I had no time to share before gym: When that Southwest plane was crashing into the gas station, do you think the crew kept up their usual comedy routine: "Hey guys, just thought we'd stop to refuel early." Yuck Yuck.

OK, must get up from this "table" and begin my day. First order of business: tamp down raging newsroom rumors that certain very prominent Catholics are about to keel over momentarily. This would mean I have to spend my week tinkering with obituaries, which I do not want to do. I'm not the first to note the eerie existence in your average newspaper of the hundreds of obituaries placidly sitting in the system, awaiting the shroud and coffin.

Seems like a possible plot update for It's a Wonderful Life. Some depressed Has-Been (Ernest Lough, say, England's most famous choirboy, who is eulogized in the Times today) feels his life has been worthless and stands poised at the edge of the bridge. A friend hacks into the local papers and prints out various heartwarming obituaries, about how many lives he has touched, etc. She races to the bridge, folder in hand. He finds the will to live. The End.

P.S.: Do you think I can post a query to the general public about our "bug problem" or would that embarrass you as regards the thoroughness of our housekeeping?