As I sit in my office, munching Pirate's Booty, sipping my caramel macchiato and watching a sweaty President Bush on TV extolling the glories of exercise and nutrition, I have four questions: Why is the most fitness-crazed president in the nation's history sometimes so short on stamina? Why does someone who bench presses 185 pounds still have an aura that's more scrawny than brawny? ("The chair," one Republican moaned, "has a way of swallowing him up.") Why does the leader of the free world, a man with limitless opportunities for stimulation, seem to get really jazzed only when he can...