If the last week doesn't prove that the only thing left in American life is entertainment, nothing will. Politics, along with athletics, has now been firmly ensconced in the national imagination as a mere diversion.

And what a diversion! The most over-used line last week was "If this election were a movie, no one would believe it." No kidding. And if the Oklahoma -Texas A&M game on Saturday was a movie, it would be dismissed as contrived. That's why we watch; indeed, you never know what's going to happen.

Some of you may believe that you hold deeper beliefs about politics, that you think public service is a noble calling and should be revered. Fine. While you're giving me that tired old patriotic spiel, I'll show you any number of people who can say the same thing about playing for the Cubs (or even, God forbid, the Devil Rays).

It's all a matter of commitment. The most serious sports fans actually play on a local level (I've seen 70-year-old bull riders), much like, say, your city council members. Hey, every once in a while they hire out a new contract for parking meter enforcement. They're playing the game, just at a slower speed than the folks in the big leagues.

But local rec leagues are consigned to bits of agate type in the sports pages (if they're lucky). And small town (and even big city) council members rarely rate more than a blip on the screen. No one really cares what those local politicos do except for the few fans that show up for the games (I mean meetings). We only notice them when something really weird happens, like a councilman holding the chamber hostage and threatening to blow his brains out. That makes national TV, just like the "hidden video" features that spotlight loony happenings at high school or rec league games.

How do I know politics has become an entertainment medium? Look at today's top practitioners. Did Bill Clinton or Newt Gingrich warm up for office by boning up on policy? Well, sure, a little, but they also played to TV. Gingrich read so many speeches into special orders while the C-SPAN cameras ran that the Democrats in the 1980s instructed the camera to pan around the chamber every once in a while to show that the House was not in session. Gingrich came to fame by reading speeches to that camera, not giving speeches to the House as a whole. Clinton, on the other hand, learned that public mea culpas (culpi?) played much better than private ones. The sagas of his life and the life of his family have been national soap operas.

The thing is, it worked. Gingrich was Speaker of the House (if only for four years--still longer than most TV shows). Clinton's not going down like some Millard Fillmore. Folks will remember the name Bill Clinton. He'll be remembered as a guy who really liked cigars rather than as the most conservative Democrat to occupy the White House in the 20th century.

And while pundits decry the messy election coverage Tuesday night and Wednesday morning, I think people rather enjoyed the weirdness. My favorite moment came on NBC sometime between 4 and 5 a.m. EST. Jonathan Alter (the reincarnation of Bill "Spaceman" Lee as a political commentator) came up with the bizarre concept that the Florida election officials should simply rig their state's results for Gore if Gore holds the popular vote advantage nationwide. Tim Russert proceeded to draw a cartoon of some sort on his little dry-erase board, Tom Brokaw chided Alter and Doris Kearns Goodwin barked out her own angry denunciations of "extra-constitutional remedies."

For about five minutes, the four people NBC presented to the nation as sober election experts just about came unhinged, each in their own endearing way. This more than anything illustrated the truly historic events of the evening and presaged the increasingly nasty battles to come.

Yes, the election and its aftermath are important. But then, so is Marshall Faulk's knee injury. I mean, the Super Bowl could ride on that.

Jon Worley thinks the "Election 2000" mini-series will be canceled after the Florida votes are certified on Friday.