No Running Jokes Here

Franken regrets that position now. "I believed Colin Powell," he says in the coffee shop interview. "I didn't think the president would mislead us into war." He adds that he was a vigorous critic of the war during the three years, 2004 to 2007, he hosted a daily radio show on the liberal Air America network. He also says he favors tying further funding of the war to a specific timetable for withdrawal of American forces.

Both Ciresi and Coleman have used Franken's statements to score points, but from opposite directions. In what is perhaps a preview of a Franken vs. Coleman race, Coleman's campaign last week posted a series of audio and video clips on its Web site of Franken making seemingly contradictory statements about Iraq. "Al Franken? This time he's not joking," reads the final frame.

Ciresi, who says he has been consistently against the war, says Franken "believed the people he called liars. My whole issue is: Why?"

All of which helps reinforce Franken's wariness on the campaign trail and in media interviews. He knows that his political opponents are literally watching -- the state GOP has assigned a "tracker" to tail Franken and tape his public appearances. So he watches his language, and does the sorts of hokey things a politician is supposed to do but that a satirist would make fun of. Around Thanksgiving, his campaign Web site was posting recipes ("Franni's Pureed Butternut Squash").

In other words, Franken reins in some of his natural Franken-ness, tacitly acknowledging a critical fact: No one votes for a smart aleck.

This summer, for example, he campaigned in New Ulm, a Minnesota town settled by German immigrants. In the town's center, a memorial reflecting this heritage is dominated by a statue of a historical figure named Hermann -- Hermann the German. Franken thought up "the dumbest joke" he could come up with. Noting that he grew up in St. Louis Park, a heavily Jewish suburb outside the Twin Cities, Franken thought of telling the townsfolk of New Ulm that in his town they had a statue of "Stew the Jew."

"I'm thinking, this will be twisted into something, like he's saying that the people in this town bear some responsibility for the Holocaust," Franken says.

He skipped the "Stew the Jew" crack.

"I'm not doing this to be the funniest guy in the Senate," Franken concludes. "I'm doing this to reverse the direction that this country has been heading. I'm doing this because I'm concerned."

Moments later, Franken finishes his milkshake and gets up to leave the empty coffee shop. Before he heads out into a wet, mushy snow, he can't resist one last attempt to spin his own story. He implores a reporter against writing the "usual" profile of him.

The reporter tries turning the tables. How would Franken write his own political profile?

Franken considers, but not for too long: "I'd write, 'He's solid and substantial and has a tremendous intellect!' "

He's kidding. Well, he might be. With Al Franken these days, it's kind of hard to tell.