POURING CRISCO ON THE ATTORNEY GENERAL

John Ashcroft scares the bejesus out of me.

If he had his way, he would detain people right and left, for flimsy legal
reasons, just because he thinks they might be up to something.

And if he could get away with it, there's no doubt he would ban scrutiny of
tribunals that would determine the guilt or innocence of people he's hauled in.

For a conservative, he's peculiarly antipathetic to states' rights. No
assisted suicide in Oregon, he's ruled; the voters who supported it be
damned. No medical marijuana in California, he's decided; even though an
election said it was OK.

Then there's the extra millions he intends to spend to beef up neighborhood
watch programs. Too much of a good thing, and a fine community effort
becomes a league of busybodies - and a haven for peeping Toms.

Some say times of terror demand strong hands, a shift toward safety over
freedom. Some say we can't let states like Oregon and California push us
further from the "natural laws" that govern our civilization.

Folks like me, though, worry that giving up a little bit of liberty is like
becoming a little bit pregnant. We worry that forbidding individual states
from making social decisions that don't threaten the fabric of our
constitution will increase the disconnect between our high-tech society and
our behind-the-times social institutions.

It's certainly something worth debating on the national stage. But can you
really debate these kinds of issues with Ashcroft?

To determine that, you have to get a little bit personal - something I know
Clinton bashers absolutely detest doing (he said sarcastically). But while
individual traits and beliefs don't always offer as unerring a measure of
leadership as some seem to think, they do offer information that helps to
analyze leaders.

With that in mind, we'll begin by noting the Harper's magazine story in the
May 1 issue that discusses how Ashcroft begins his work day in his
Washington office. At 8 a.m., he gathers his top folks, they read the Bible
and pray.

And sing hymns. Some of which Ashcroft himself has written. Sometimes he
makes copies of the words so the staff can sing along. Sometimes he treats
them to a solo, in what has been described as a "sentimental baritone"
along the lines of Vic Damone.

The admixture of God and politics continues in Ashcroft's occasional
speechmaking, like the one he gave to religious broadcasters in Nashville
last February. Our American freedoms, he said, come from heaven, "not the
grant of any government or document, but our endowment from God." And this
from the fellow who is supposed to be the country's ace defender of the law.

More disturbing, in terms of Ashcroft's overweaning self-importance, are
the reports from The New York Times and others (simply log on the Internet
and call up Ashcroft and "annointing" and see what you get) that he poured
bowls of Crisco oil on his head after winning two terms as Missouri's
governor and being sworn in as a U.S. senator.

Legal? Probably. Moral? OK. Appropriate? Good grief! The man is not a
biblical king. As The Times observes, Ashcroft's self-anointment resembles
"Napoleon crowning himself as emperor more than it resembles Samuel
anointing David."

OK, you're saying, that's what those rotten liberals are saying about
Ashcroft. Might have known.

My friends, take a look at this month's edition of Reason, whose cover
motto is "Free Minds and Free Markets," which is hardly a slogan you'd
expect from, say, Howard Zinn.

The writer for Reason begins his profile by noting a vignette from the
beginning of Ashcroft's 1998 memoir, "On My Honor: The Beliefs That Shape
My Life."

Ashcroft starts the book with the story of flying in a plane with his
father when young John was 8 years old. His father, the pilot, told him to
fly the plane. What he should do, said his father, was "just grab the stick
and push it straight forward."

The result, of course, was a gut-churning dive toward a farm, which his
father corrected in the nick of time and "had a good chuckle" at young
John's fear.

The youthful Ashcroft said he learned a lesson that whatever he touched
could make a difference. I would have learned that my father was one sick
puppy.

And it makes me wonder whether the fear young John must have felt hasn't
translated into a desire to make others experience some of the same -
particularly those who don't share his beliefs.

I know he's certainly put the fear of his God in me - and I surely don't
mean that in a positive way.