Will The Real Johnny Volcano Please Stand Up?

Alas, John Sidney McCain, we hardly knew ye.  Literally.

The prevailing question about John McCain this year is: What happened? What happened to that other John McCain, the refreshingly unpredictable figure who stood apart from his colleagues and seemed to promise something better than politics as usual? The question may miss the point. It’s quite possible that nothing at all has changed about John McCain, a ruthless and self-centered survivor who endured five and a half years in captivity in North Vietnam, and who once told Torie Clarke that his favorite animal was the rat, because it is cunning and eats well. It’s possible to see McCain’s entire career as the story of a man who has lived in the moment, who has never stood for any overriding philosophy in any consistent way, and who has been willing to do all that it takes to get whatever it is he wants. He himself said, in the thick of his battle with Hayworth, “I’ve always done whatever’s necessary to win.” Maybe the rest of us just misunderstood.

McCain has always lived for the fight, and he has defined himself most clearly in opposition to an enemy, whether that enemy was the rule-bound leadership of the United States Naval Academy, his North Vietnamese captors, the hometown Arizona press corps that never much liked him, his Republican congressional colleagues, the Reverend Jerry Falwell, George W. Bush, Donald Rumsfeld, Barack Obama, or J. D. Hayworth. He has always been more of an existential politician than a consequential one, in the sense that his influence has derived not from steady, unswerving pursuit of philosophical goals or legislative achievements but from the series of unpredictable—and sometimes spectacular—fights he has chosen to pick. As his daughter Meghan recently wrote, he has always been more of a craps guy than a strategic poker player. He has never been a party leader, like his old friend Bob Dole, of Kansas, or a wise elder, like his colleague Dick Lugar, of Indiana, or a Republican moderate, like Susan Collins and Olympia Snowe, of Maine. He flies solo, first, last, and always, and his paramount cause has always been his own. That is the bracing reality of John McCain. It is the tragedy, too.

I don't think Vanity Fair's Todd Purdum is going to be invited to play on Johnny's tire swing anytime soon.  But the fact is somebody in the Village is finally saying how they miss the old Maverick McCain.  I'm betting that I agree with the view that McCain is one of the most skilled political opportunists of our age, he'll flip-flop-flip-flop again and turn back into Good Ol' Reaching Across The Aisle McCain, especially since the Democratic margin in the Senate come November will be much narrower.

He'll slide right back into being the guy in the middle that the Village knows and loves now that he's gotten his primary opponent out of the way and is favored heavily to win.  Another six years of this guy throwing barbecues and pool parties is just what the Village wants, you know.

And hey, this article gives him cover (sort of).  Now the mercurial McCain can go back to being the old man from 2008, although it seems Purdum and Vanity Fair have gotten a pound of flesh or so.

Such are the trials and tribulations of the Gospel according to St. John The Centrist as he puts the 2008 campaign behind him.