COLUMBUS _ ``What is `separation of powers?’’’ asked the little miscreant, who was completing a worksheet. She had her homework strewn over most of the couch, and Buddy was curled up at one end, playing with his Game Boy.

``The three branches of government,’’ I said, raking ashes out of the wood stove. ``The theory is that by divvying up power, no one branch can take over.’’

``�Theory’ is the operative word,’’ Uncle Chet called from the stove, where he was broiling catfish.

``True,’’ said Hon, who was folding laundry.

``Congress is certainly the withering branch,’’ he continued. ``The president’s war machine operates on five continents, draining the treasury, gearing up to kill Iranians next, the Supreme Court picks the president, gives him cover, and what does Congress do?’’

``Nothing?’’ asked the little miscreant, who knew better than to take notes.

``Worse than nothing,’’ he said. ``They give us the illusion of something. Look what they’re playing at now: spending the whole week debating an empty resolution so they can show us they don’t like Bush’s war anymore. But they aren’t going to try to stop it. Oh, no! That would be too hard. They’re not going to cut off funds; they’re not going to impeach the Great Prevaricator.’’

``You know I can’t use that,’ as she put down her pen.

``But it’s true, just so you know,’’ he said. ``This Congress is about as powerful as the Roman Senate was after Caesar crossed the Rubicon. Which is to say, one step above lapdog. Just ask yourself, if what Bush has done, from Baghdad to New Orleans to Kyoto, isn’t impeachable, then what is?’’

``There’s a scary thought,’’ I said.

``Yes, it is.’’ He opened the oven door, took out the broiler, flipped the steaming fillets and coated them with mustard and dill. Then he returned the pan to the oven, set the timer and announced, ``Dinner in five minutes.’’

``Are we having rice?’’ asked Buddy.

``We are having rice and broccoli,’’ Uncle Chet said.

``I like rice,’’ the little boy said.

``I still don’t really have an answer,’’ said the little miscreant.

``You can use what I told you: it’s the division of power among the three branches of government,’’ I said.

``Yes,’’ Uncle Chet said. ``The emperor, the judges and the shoeshine boys.’’

``Will you help me, Mom?’’

``What Dad said is right, but `separation of powers’ also refers to the division of power among the federal, state and local governments,’’ said Hon, who was folding a sheet.

``That might have been true in the old days,’’ said Uncle Chet. ``But the state and the federal governments have taken over, mandating whatever they want, then making counties pay for it with the property tax.’’

``Is that true?’’ The girl was getting frustrated.

``It’s true,’’ Buddy asserted.

``Sure, it’s true,’’ said Uncle Chet. ``Why do you think we pay for schools with property tax, when the state and federal governments make all the rules? Why do we pay for health care with the property tax, when it’s the federal government that’s given us the Insurance Industry Plan?’’

``Wait a minute,’’ said Hon, who was setting the table now. ``You want to know what to put down for an answer?’’

``Yes!’’

``Separation of powers,’’ Hon spoke slowly, ``is the theory that by dividing power among the branches of government and the levels of government, no one entity could take over, and democracy might continue indefinitely.’’

``Well, that’s pretty good,’’ I said.

``And,’’ Uncle Chet added, ``the theory works only where everyone has a good education and a chance to get his message out.’’

``Like on the Internet,’’ our instant messenger nodded knowingly.

``Exactly. The Internet is propping up democracy now, because on the Internet, you, and Rupert Murdoch, Fox News billionaire, can each reach a billion people with your ideas. But if they get rid of net neutrality this year and let Murdoch and the other rich boys take over the Internet, democracy is doomed.’’

``I’m afraid I’d go along with that,’’ I said, washing my hands at the kitchen sink.

``You probably could write that," said Hon. ``If you believe it.’’

``Well, don’t you believe it?’’ Uncle Chet asked as he dished up the rice.

``I do,’’ said Hon. ``But I don’t know if I did when I was in eighth grade.’’

``There was no Internet when you were in eighth grade,’’ the little miscreant said to her mother, then turned to her uncle. ``And when you were in eighth grade, there probably weren’t any computers.’’

``Books had just been invented,’’ he said, and set a platter of fish on the table.

___

Cooperstown News Bureau Reporter Tom Grace is traveling with his Uncle Chet, who he says is imaginary. Grace’s column appears twice monthly.