Arsenic And Bad Beef

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Bush's narrow focus didn't come through in the campaign. Last year he convinced people that compassion from a Republican was cleaner and better than the sloppy kind offered by Democrats. His genial nature made his vow to be a uniter, not a divider, credible despite flashes of poor sportsmanship (his tactics toward John McCain in South Carolina) and stubbornness (refusing to call McCain to concede Michigan). Since winning, he has reached socially across the aisle (Ted Kennedy for movies and popcorn, John Breaux to the ranch) and made fun of himself ("I hope one day I can clone another Dick Cheney. Then I won't have to do anything"). But the self-deprecation didn't quite mask his pleasure in making the presidency seem--for a while there--almost as easy as governing Texas. You can run the country 9 to 5, change policy off the cuff, turn the gritty work over to aides. But now, as it gets harder--with the Senate whittling his tax cut, the Chinese holding his spy plane--you can see him struggling to stick to a script written by others.

Salmonella showed that Bush knows there is a limit. You might get away with endangering the caribou, some fish going belly up, holes in the ozone layer and the safety net, even the prospect of no mail on Saturdays. But dangerous school lunches? In the end, Dubya knew better than to go there. He may also have second thoughts on arsenic. So many people are trying to climb aboard a bill to restore the arsenic restrictions that Representative Henry Waxman says he collected 165 co-sponsors in two days. Meanwhile, other industries are submitting their wish lists to Republicans. Lobbyists are asking for a relaxation of lead-contamination standards. You'd think we had put that issue to rest long ago. But Bush's Interior Secretary, Gale Norton, used to lobby Congress on behalf of lead-paint manufacturers.