But the appeal of "West Wing" goes far beyond an exploration of the nitty-gritty details of White House life. For one thing, the dialogue--courtesy of Aaron Sorkin, who brought us A Few Good Men and the critically acclaimed but short-lived "Sports Night"--is witty, sharp and delivered at a pace so dizzyingly fast that the viewers ride the crest of an adrenaline high from the first strains of the opening music to when the credits roll. The lines are delivered by a superb ensemble cast, who interact with each other so flawlessly that one is reminded of the glory years of "ER." No detail is left unpolished; the sets are incredibly accurate, the guest stars are well-chosen and the Secret Service barks convincingly.

This is not to imply that everyone who has seen "West Wing" is so enamoured. The show has draw catcalls from conservative viewers, who point the thinly-veiled liberal Hollywood bias evident in everything from the fictional administration's rejection of school vouchers to their staunch gun control position. An even bigger criticism, oddly enough, is the flip side of one of the show's most charming aspects; it's unsinkable sanguinity. The episodes often end on an upbeat moment, a trend that naysayers find both unrealistic and nauseatingly touchy-feely. I have a good friend who refuses to watch the show, claiming it reminds him too much of "Full House."

In fact, it the show's optimistic bent that almost killed it in pre-production. Given the aura of scandal that clung to the White House in the wake of the Lewinsky debacle, producers at NBC were uncertain that the nation would swallow Martin Sheen's squeaky-clean President Barlet. All sorts of polls have shown that the average American's faith in government has slid steadily downward since Watergate. Was it possible that a public so disillusioned with its leaders could accept the portrait of a politician with a magnetic personality, a benevolent heart, and a philosophy of being "for the people" who is neither a stooge nor a swindler?

Luckily for the bean-counters, someone took a gamble on the idea. But it's interesting to consider why such a formula seems to work so well. Some have suggested that the idealism of "West Wing" constitutes some sort of wish-fulfillment for its viewers. In the modern world, zoning out in front of the television may indeed be tantamount to a 21st century version of dreaming; had Freud lived today, he might agree that when we switch into couch potato mode, we are unconsciously drawn to that which we desire most.

This theory seems to be supported both by the fact that in a recent Internet poll, President Barlet ranks way above any of the current presidential candidates, and also by a report from The New York Times that "Bartlet for President" bumper stickers have been spotted throughout Los Angeles.

As Tweedledee and Tweedledum battled it out on Tuesday, I did my best to remind myself that "West Wing" is a work of fiction; that my secret desire for Election 2000 to yield inspirational candidates could not be assuaged by watching Martin Sheen in all his carefully scripted glory.

That still didn't stop me from tuning in on Wednesday, or from being incredibly grateful that I can watch the Mets win next week on Fox--during commercial breaks from "West Wing," of course.

Alixandra E. Smith '02 is a government concentrator in Kirkland House. Her column appears on alternate Thursdays.