Listening Jeb Bush

THE campaign trail in Florida ought to be fun. One evening you are in Little Haiti, a black district of Miami, where ear-splitting, hand-clapping gospel music precedes the candidates' debate. Next day you are enveloped in the expensive courtesy of DisneyWorld, and then in the country-music sticky-barbecue jollity of a grand horse ranch. But Jeb Bush, the Republican candidate for governor, does not seem to be enjoying it. His smile seems to hurt him, and for much of the time his chunky, handsome visage is clouded with a frown. After performing in DisneyWorld, he answers a few questions cordially, and then you can almost hear him groaning. “Can we go?” he asks.