At one of those big, family-weekend dinners in Boston, it had reached that point that inevitably falls somewhere in between the main course and dessert, where everyone has just about run out of interesting things to say. Sensing something of this lull in conversation, I leaned over to my friend's gay uncle, and said naughtily, "Our friend over there," pointing mischievously, "he's a Republican." It was perfect. A heated debate erupted and my guilty mission was accomplished.

It's very strange-almost bizarre-to think of a Republican as a dinner novelty. In this part of the country, Bush-bashing isn't even mildly controversial; it's just funny. Many of us can hardly conceive of what would be running through the mind of a person checking the box that says "Bush-Cheney" on Election Day.

And yet, there's a strong possibility that a majority of this country will do so.

How is it that we-the future lawyers, doctors, writers and policy-makers of America-are so out of touch with the country we are training to represent?

Much has been said of the "Two Americas," and the economic gap between rich and poor, but rarely does one hear mentioned the ideological divide that exists between most of America and its intellectual elite.

Look carefully, and you'll see it manifested all over Brandeis. In my ethics class, for example, we discuss abortion and not one of the 50 students in the class raises his hand to say he opposes it. According to an ABC News poll, however, 43 percent of Americans think it should be illegal.

In my journalism class, we go through the standard mid-semester lesson of how ignorant most of America is when it comes to international events, without considering once that, perhaps, steel workers in Ohio or potato farmers in Idaho just don't have any use for the knowledge that people are starving in Africa.

Our pre-med counterparts would laugh mercilessly at the suggestion that evolution is wrong and contrived, yet six out of 10 Americans, again according to an ABC poll, think that the creation story is historically factual.

I'm not saying it's a bad thing that we're so decisively different from the many with whom we share a ballot box. Having spent my whole life outside either London or Boston, I feel this distance acutely, but have never regretted it. It's just curious to think that all of us-from tree- hugging ex-hippies, to country music-loving Wal-Mart store clerks, to conservative stockbrokers, to slightly arrogant but eager Brandeis students-will be choosing together who we think is deserving of the most power available to a single individual in the Western world.

However strange this system we have may be, apparently it works; even if someone is elected for whom we have total disrespect, the executive branch may have a few more angry letters addressed to it than usual, but its doubtful that there will be any riots on the Brandeis campus. Perhaps it shows a triumph for federalism that we feel empowered enough not to complain or perhaps it shows that we know we'll be well served by whoever comes to power. In any case, it's just something to think about.