At a reception for an emerging artist, a tipsy friend approached me to continue a private chat we had long ago.

"So, you still want John McCain for president?" he said, in the neighborhood of 30,000 decibels above a whisper. Jaws dropped. Conversations stopped. I felt every cultural elitist eyeball in the gallery was on me. Awkward!

First, I don't know how most of my friends vote unless they tell me. We get along through shared interests that have nothing to do with politics.

I suspect this friend is an Independent, meaning he swings both ways at the polls. All jokes aside, independent voters like him may decide this next election.

Given my work, people are surprised that I don't talk politics at social outings. Experience has taught me that this never ends well.

Passions flare. Feelings get hurt. Nothing ends a dinner party more quickly than a pundit on pinot noir, except perhaps a gun-toting pal wanting to show off her shiny new toy concealed in her designer purse next to her favorite MAC lipstick.

Until that art party where my friend brought up this secret affair with John McCain, folks present assumed they knew where I stood: somewhere in left field. My friend was giddy thinking he had cornered me in right field.

I reminded him that I did have nice things to say about a McCain candidacy at one time. But that was when the field was wide open for Republicans to succeed Dubya in '09.

If I've changed my mind, which I have, that's because McCain has changed.

There really are two John McCains now. There's Old McCain, the younger one I liked, and there's New McCain, who bears little resemblance to my moderate crush.

To borrow from singer Katy Perry's hit single, I kissed Old McCain and I liked it. But New McCain is creepy.

Old McCain was a Republican maverick. New McCain is Bush 3.0, aka McSame.

Old McCain excited me. So does New McCain, but not in a good way.

Old McCain was tough, passionate, sure of himself, but not cocky. He stood up to the loyal Bushies in 2000 and took a political beating from his own party that left him scarred but able to fight another day.

Old McCain followed the dictates of his conscience. New McCain seems weak, tired and feigns passion.

Old McCain was a straight talker. New McCain spews platitudes and sound bites. Dr. No? Really? Is that the best he can do?

Old McCain didn't have to play up his military experience because everyone knows this Vietnam vet's story and respects him for it. New McCain makes dubious claims, such as, "I know how to win wars." Name one.

New McCain has become a lead player in a war scripted by The Bush-Cheney Theater of the Absurd. Like the overdone Norma Desmond, New McCain appears clownish as he waits for his next close-up.

The Religious Right told Old McCain to jump, but he didn't. New McCain asks them, "How high?" That is why he went mute when asked what he thought about insurers paying for Viagra and not birth control. He hadn't been given those talking points yet.

Old McCain criticized the president when necessary. New McCain has embraced this imperial presidency and collected James Baker and other Team Bush apparatchiks along the way.

The more hawkish New McCain speaks about a 100-year war. He cannot function without "Baghdad Joe" Lieberman whispering in his ear.

Old McCain was quicker, sharper and more alert. New McCain isn't exactly wiser with age. Sometimes he doesn't know where he is, which terrorists we're fighting, or that there's no longer a place called Czechoslovakia.

Old McCain was curious. New McCain is becoming almost as incurious, including about the economy, as Dubya.

Old McCain was hot. New McCain is Bush warmed up.

Rhonda Chriss Lokeman (RCLCreators@kc.rr.com) is a contributing editor to The Kansas City Star. To find out more about Rhonda Chriss Lokeman and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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