. . . when historians sift through the pop-culture of America looking for hints and clues, they will notice that a character born in Vietnam-era 1963 reached a mass appeal in 2002, shortly before the Second Iraq War, and they will pay particular attention to the recurring phrase:

With great power comes great responsibility.

Go ahead; argue this is a sign of Western self-delusion, or a statement of solemn principles - that’s not my point. I’m just saying that that simple homily means something about the culture from which it came. Not: with great power comes great opportunity for burying your foes beneath the spiked wheels of your juggernaut! or with great power comes booty like you would - not - believe! Of course, the next question is, responsibility to do what? And there the arguments start. The EUians would mean we have a responsibility to sign Kyoto and join the ICC; others would insist we have a responsibility to reduce global income inequality, or smash states that are on a crash course to develop weapons of mass destruction. You could say that Spider-Man’s credo is the central dilemma of a unipolar world. But that would be silly.

Accurate, but silly.

If people can get PhDs today on the diaries of 18th century plantation wives . . . then they certainly can get a doctoral degree in 2102 dissecting a culture’s approach to the relation between power and responsibility, and why that concept popped up in 2002. They’ll probably miss the point, because the point is simple: do good, because that’s what good people do.

We’re never as good as our myths, but surely it says something that our myths are good.

Some of that old feeling returned while watching Moore's assault on the documentary form. It is so juvenile in its approach, so awful in its journalism, such an inside joke for people who already hate Bush, that I found myself feeling a bit sorry for a president who is depicted mostly as a befuddled dope. I fear how it will play to the undecided.

For them, I recommend "Spider-Man 2."