Democrats still need to pick up eight more Senate seats tonight to reach the coveted 60-seat mark. None (except for New Mexico, where Tom Udall is all but certain to trounce Republican Steve Pearce for a G.O.P.-held seat) should be as easy for them as Virginia just was.

John Warner, the soon-to-be-retired Virginia Senator, and George H.W. Bush, the President’s father, potentially have the clout to engineer an 11th hour maneuver that might hasten the end of the war.

But neither of them will ever exercise that clout.

Almost single-handedly, Mr. Warner on Wednesday sounded the death knell to what may have been the last best hope for Congressional action to override President Bush’s Iraq obstinacy—an amendment that would have mandated that troops receive as much time at home as they spend on the battlefield.

Since the White House has sustained the current troop level only by continually extending troops’ deployments, the amendment would have forced a speedy and steady reduction in the size of the U.S. force in Iraq–overriding President Bush’s call for a conditional redeployment of only 30,000 troops by next summer.

The plan was offered by Democrat Jim Webb and Republican Chuck Hagel, and Mr. Warner himself had backed it over the summer, when it fell just four votes short of overcoming a G.O.P. filibuster threat. Mr. Webb reintroduced it this week amid optimism that a handful of Republicans who had opposed it previously were reconsidering their positions.

But as debate began Wednesday, Mr. Warner took to the Senate floor and dashed those hopes.

“I endorsed it,” he acknowledged. “I intend now to cast a vote against it.”

And with that, Mr. Webb’s amendment was as good as dead – as was the prospect of any binding Iraq legislation passing the Senate in the near future. Wavering Republicans who’d been on the brink of backing the plan–Arlen Specter, Lisa Murkowski and George Voinovich among them– immediately pulled back out of respect for Mr. Warner’s judgment. When the roll was called, Mr. Webb’s plan received 56 votes, still shy of the needed 60.

The Webb plan represented the only Iraq legislation with a realistic chance of attracting 60 Senate votes. Its demise kills the near-term prospects that Congress will take action to force a mission change in Iraq. President Bush’s plan to withdraw about 30,000 troops by next summer is misleading, since those troops’ deployments–already extended and re-extended by Mr. Bush–are due to expire early next year.

Mr. Warner justified his flip-flop by relaying conversations he’d had with Pentagon officials, who, he said, had frantically warned him that the “time-off” plan could not be implemented without causing chaos.

But to advocates of a course change in Iraq, his reversal is an exasperating final straw. All summer, Mr. Warner, who chaired the Armed Services Committee until the Democratic takeover in January has flirted with breaking with the White House. He voiced opposition to the initial troop surge, proposed legislation that would have asked the President to prepare a contingency plan for redeploying troops, and called for a troop reduction even before General David Petraeus’ offered his ostensibly pivotal military progress report this month.

People will believe what they want to believe, and it seemed clear to war foes that Mr. Warner, an old-school moderate Republican with a history of bucking his party on principle, had reached the same conclusion they had about Iraq, and that it was only a matter of time before he blew the whistle on the White House’s delay tactics.

But Wednesday was his final chance to back up his words with action. He didn’t do it, and the war endures. It may be that Mr. Warner is not as convinced of the war’s futility as we believed he was.

The same can be said of former President Bush, whose private views of the war have made for a five-year guessing game. A popular, and highly speculative, narrative has emerged that paints him as an anguished father, galled by his son’s tragically myopic foreign policy judgment but unable to bring himself to speak up.

But when he spoke up this week, in a videotaped message at a campaign event for John McCain in South Carolina (the latest stop for the Arizonan’s “No Surrender” tour), it was to say the following:

As with Mr. Warner, Mr. Bush has given war foes plenty of reason to believe he was, on some level, a soulmate, as far back as 2002, when Brent Scowcroft, perhaps his closest foreign policy confidant, publicly questioned the idea of invading Iraq. Indeed, the very premise of the war could be construed as a slap in the face to the first President Bush, who passed up a clear opportunity to invade Iraq, knowing that it would be a lonely endeavor that would destabilize the region and require decades of post-invasion reconstruction.

In the past, the senior Mr. Bush has largely limited his public comments to expressions of support for his son. But his South Carolina comments revealed a man who’s comfortable with the tone and rhetoric of the war’s most ardent supporters, and provided yet another dispiriting setback for proponents of ending the war.

The betting for some time now is that he doesn’t, and that he will hang it up next year when his fifth terms expires. Certainly, his almost non-existent fundraising ($500 in the first quarter of this year) encourages that talk, not to mention the fact that he lost his Armed Services Committee chairmanship when the Democrats reclaimed the Senate in January.

He’s been coy publicly, but it would be truly stunning if he opts to run again. When he does make his retirement official, it will set off what could be the hottest Senate race in the country in ’08.

Virginia, which last voted for a Democratic presidential candidate in 1964, is a newly-minted swing state. Sweeping demographic changes in the Washington, D.C. suburbs have essentially split the state into two political regions – the fast-growing Democratic north, and the traditionally conservative southern and western areas. Since 2001, Democrats have won three of four statewide elections, and the national party is primed to target the Old Dominion’s 13 electoral votes in 2008.

For now, the most likely Republican candidate is Tom Davis, a Congressman from Fairfax County who has watched his district’s electorate shift more and more to the left since he was elected in 1994. To keep up, Davis has moderated himself – particularly on the Iraq war – and he knows that running statewide in 2008 will probably require further distancing from the national G.O.P. The problem, of course, is that a conservative-dominated G.O.P convention picks statewide candidates in Virginia, so Davis is no shoo-in for the Republican nomination. Still, he’s probably the party’s strongest potential ’08 candidate.

But the real suspense is on the Democratic side. What will Mark Warner, the almost-presidential candidate who left Virginia’s governorship with an approval rating near 80 percent in 2005, do? Warner clearly wants back in the game, and he has three fascinating choices: run for the Senate in ’08; run for Governor again in ’09 (the state’s one-term limit guarantees an open seat then); or angle for the Vice-Presidency next summer.

National Democrats drool over the prospect of a Warner Senate candidacy and are aggressively courting him. A few ago, I’m told, he had pretty much convinced himself to run. But now – as seems to be his habit – he’s apparently having second thoughts, intrigued by the V.P. talk.

On paper, he’s a nice fit for a Hillary-led ticket, since he’s everything she’s not: a fresh-faced southern governor with business-world experience. He could also be a fit for Obama – the candidate many of Warner’s top backers moved to when he got out of the White House race – although Obama would face pressure to select a running-mate with considerable foreign policy experience.

If Warner decides to run for the Senate, he would remove himself from V.P. consideration. But if he begged off the Senate race, he could still run for governor again in ’09 if he got passed over by next year by Hillary or Barack. Of course, by doing that he’d also jeopardize Democrats’ chances of winning another Virginia Senate seat.

For now, he can wait, since John Warner hasn’t officially announced his retirement. But he will soon, and that’s when things will get interesting.

Some interesting Iraq developments this afternoon, within minutes of each other:

First, the latest National Intelligence Estimate – the first exclusively on Iraq since January – was released, and its title sums up its findings nicely – “Prospects for Iraq’s Stability: Some Security Progress but Political Reconciliation Elusive.”

One month before Congress is supposed to receive the ballyhooed Petraeus/White House troop surge progress report, the N.I.E. seems to undercut the central premise of the escalation: that added military presence would provide the security needed for Iraq’s factions to forge a political consensus.

The second development, not coincidentally, came minutes after the N.I.E.’s release, when Republican Senator John Warner called a press conference to announce that he would ask President Bush to institute on September 15 “the first step in a withdrawal of our forces.”

This would seem to be a major development – a moderate, respected Republican legislator breaking with the White House as the critical September progress report nears. After all, the talk all summer – until the recent raft of “the surge is working” stories – was that key Republicans like Warner, who have deferred to Bush on Iraq despite their own reservations, would finally defect in September.

But is Warner’s move a defection? He is notoriously hard to read, not to mention reverent of presidential authority in matters of war. He said he would counsel Bush to withdraw about 5,000 troops by Christmas – but this may not be far from what the White House was planning anyway.

The key question remains: Is Warner prepared to back legislation that would compel the President to act? So far, withdrawal timetable legislation has failed, thanks to presidential filibuster threats, presidential vetoes, and the lack of a 2/3 majority to over-ride such vetoes. The White House has made clear that it won’t be budged – and, in fact, is counting on ads like this to keep wavering Republicans in line come the middle of September. To force the President’s hand, congressional Democrats need Republican defections – and more than just a few of them.

So what was Warner really saying? If Bush resists his suggestion – and the initial White House response suggests he will – will Warner be joined by other Republicans in delivering the same message? At what point will he call for timetable legislation – or is that something he’ll never do? And, more broadly, will the N.I.E. spur other previously hesitant Republicans to go farther than he did today in calling for an end to the war?

And for good reason: The war cost the G.O.P. both houses of Congress last fall. Can you imagine the electoral fallout if the party doesn’t distance itself from the hated “surge” between now next November?

And yet, the past week has brought two votes, one in the House and one in the Senate, on legislation – which enjoys the backing of robust majorities in public opinion polls – that would force the otherwise unwilling President Bush to begin a troop withdrawal within months and to recast the mission for those few troops that would remain.

But just four House Republicans – out of 201 – voted yes last week, and today all but four Senate Republicans opposed the idea as well. And because they threatened a filibuster, something that can only be cut off with a super-majority of 60 votes, that band of 45 Senate Republicans (plus Joe Lieberman) effectively killed the prospects of any change in war policy until at least September.

By the time this morning’s actual Senate vote rolled around after an all-night session, the tally was no surprise. But the unwillingness of most every Republican to defy the White House is nonetheless puzzling when you consider some of the rhetoric of the past few weeks.

“In my judgment,” Indiana’s Richard Lugar, who voted against the course change legislation today, said two week back, “the costs and risks of continuing down the current path outweigh the potential benefits that might be achieved.”

George Voinovich of Ohio, another no vote today, was quoted earlier this week saying that the Bush administration had “f****** up” the war and forecasting imminent G.O.P. defections: "I have every reason to believe that the fur is going to start to fly, perhaps sooner than what they may have wanted.”

There was also New Mexico’s Pete Domenici, who earlier this month decreed that “we can not continue asking our troops to sacrifice indefinitely” – only to vote for exactly that today. And John Warner of Virginia, who noted just last week that the “whole concept of the surge was to enable the Iraqi government to function. So far, we have not seen that.” Mr. Warner, too, voted to allow the change of course legislation to die by filibuster today.

So what gives?

All sorts of rationales were offered by the 45 Republicans (and Joe Lieberman), from sheer pettiness (Arlen Specter whining that Majority Leader Harry Reid had been rude to him) to sheer delusion (the apparent belief of John McCain, Lindsey Graham, and Joe Lieberman that if you just say “the surge is working” enough times, it actually will work). The most common refrain was that no action should be taken until September, when yet another progress report is to be presented, this time by General David Petraeus.

But forget all that. There are some true believers within the G.O.P. ranks, a few diehards who fundamentally believe this war is worth pursuing at or near the current level for years into the future, but mainstream opinion on the Republican side, as Mr. Voinovich himself has indicated publicly and many others have suggested privately, is much more realistic.

The problem, as Democrats observed with frustration this week, is that most of these Republicans still won’t speak up – let alone take legislative action to back up their sentiments. And even those who do speak out – like Mr. Lugar and Mr. Warner, who both offered a non-binding plan last week designed to encourage the President to change his thinking – steadfastly resist supporting legislation with teeth, like the measure that was killed today.

The reason seems clear: They believe that come September, Mr. Bush will wise up and institute the kind of significant course change they have refused to force on him, thus turning the volume own on Iraq just in time for the ’08 election season.

Mr. Warner seemed to say as much when he and Mr. Lugar introduced their own proposal, non-binding legislation that would ask the President to draw up plans for a narrower U.S. mission by mid-October. Unlike the legislation that was killed today, the Warner-Lugar plan provides no provisions to force the President to take the recommended action. “The President,” Mr. Warner stressed, “will have to make some changes, and I’m confident the President will do so.”

For his part, Mr. Lugar has flatly ruled out backing any legislation – now or later – that would set a timeline for withdrawing troops or redefining the U.S. mission and, in fact, has said that – despite his own reservations – Mr. Bush is free to pursue whatever course he wants in Iraq, with as many troops as he wants, as long as he is President.

In essence, the Republican bet is that Mr. Bush, on the subject of Iraq, is a reasonable man and a team player. There’s no need to humiliate him with a legislative rebuke now – not when he’s al but promised to revisit his policy in September then. And surely, Republicans seem to be thinking, he’ll have to come around in September. Right?

But is there really any reason for such optimism? After all, Mr. Bush’s bullheadedness – abetted by Congressional rubberstamping – stirred a Democratic tidal wave last November. And yet, the President’s response was to escalate the war, a move that dropped his own poll numbers even lower and that destroyed the presidential campaign of the top Congressional war supporter, Mr. McCain.

And when he was thrown a potential life preserver in the form of the toothless Warner-Lugar plan, Mr. Bush instead dispatched his National Security Advisor, Stephen Hadley, to blow off the idea on national television. Mr. Bush fancies himself the next Harry Truman, a President whose wisdom is only appreciated by the masses decades after he leaves office. So what does he really care about 2008?

But there are 201 Republicans in the House and 49 in the Senate who care very much about 2008. For many, their jobs are on the line. And all of them miss being in the majority dearly. A second consecutive wipeout could lock the G.O.P. out of power for a decade. Mr. Bush has given every indication that he plans to keep a heavy troop presence in Iraq through his entire second term, a state of affairs that could doom his party next year – unless his party decides to save itself.

At one point in the Senate’s marathon debate, Chuck Schumer urged his Republican colleagues to support the course change legislation, arguing that only legislation that forces Mr. Bush’s hand will produce a meaningful change in Iraq.

All but four of them ignored him today, but in two months Republicans will have to make a choice: Would they rather beat the Democrats in legislative maneuvering in 2007, or have a chance in 2008?

As his Presidency enters its twilight years, Mr. Bush evidently wishes he could revisit the sunny days of “compassionate conservatism,” when gauzy proposals and happy talk so easily beguiled so many voters.

His problem is that we have heard all this before, and we know him too well by now.

Every year in his State of the Union address, he feigns deep concern over the same issues that he emphasized this year. He always urges independence from foreign oil, rapid development of alternative-energy sources, effective use of conservation and improvement of the environment. (Remember his “switch grass” biofuel program from last year?) He always promises more affordable health care that will become available to more of the uninsured and their children. He always says that public education must be made more effective and higher education should be made more affordable.

The chances are that few, if any, of the proposals advertised in his speech will actually arrive on Capitol Hill as legislation—or that he will even bother to mention them again, unless he recycles the same ideas next year. For most of these programs and promises are old half-measures, with little saliency and even less support. They are desperate cries for approval from a President who has permanently forfeited the popularity he once brandished like a weapon.

His bigger problem, of course, is that he still refuses to face the failure of his military and diplomatic policies in Iraq—and the rejection of his escalation plan even by members of his own party. He seems to believe that he can buy off or distract the burgeoning opposition to the Iraq debacle by promising to deal with other issues “that people care about,” as his flacks would say.

Today, however, there is no issue that people care about more than the war. And on the question of how to extricate us from the disaster that he and his administration have created, he simply has no credibility. Even leading figures in his own party, such as Senator John Warner (R.-Va.), are no longer willing to defend him. When he claims that his critics have no alternative to his military escalation, they should refer him to the best-selling Iraq Study Group report, which outlines a highly specific plan for reconciliation, amnesty and negotiated withdrawal of U.S. forces from Iraq—so that the war against Al Qaeda can be prosecuted more successfully.

In this moment, as in so many others since Mr. Bush first took the oath of office, his distinguishing characteristic is the squandered opportunity. After 9/11, he could have brought the country together, and instead decided to aggrandize his party and his own power. He could have brought the world together to confront civilization’s enemies, from Osama bin Laden to Saddam Hussein, and chose instead to ruin traditional alliances in an aggressive, illegal and unnecessary war.

Had he not made those stupid choices, and were he not blinded by his arrogance, then today he might be able to take advantage of crucial opportunities to improve the future of the United States and planet Earth.

At no time in recent years, for instance, has there been such broad consensus, in the business community as well as the labor movement, and among citizens of all political persuasions, that we must reform the American health-care system to contain costs and provide universal coverage. Both nationally and internationally, the same kind of consensus exists for strong measures to cope with global warming, as corporate executives sit down with environmental leaders.

Yet the health-care schemes floated by the President and his aides would achieve little except to damage the present system of employer coverage without building a viable replacement. That is why the advocates of universal care will scarcely bother to deconstruct the Bush plan, which was dead on arrival.

As for his energy proposals, they are too little and too late, coming from a President who has so reliably behaved like a stooge for the oil and coal interests. He has consistently opposed substantial fuel-economy standards, and the White House has even expressed opposition to the modest House legislation that cuts the ridiculous subsidies to the oil industry and redirects the funding to renewable energy.

When Mr. Bush was truly popular, the horizons for Presidential achievement seemed almost limitless. Now that he is truly scorned, his possibilities seem nil. How silly and how sad that he still expects us to believe him.

As that mottled, wattled crew on Capitol Hill drones on about the President, there is the unmistakable notion that our nation's Representatives and Senators are mouthing the words to a particularly loathsome Top 40 tune. The song not only remains the same, it is sung with the kind of overheated, Celine Dion-esque calculation that substitutes for conviction in 1999.

Now, novelist Richard Bausch ( Good Evening Mr. and Mrs. America, and All the Ships at Sea ) has uncovered proof that the country's legislative branch is working from some sort of impeachment-process tape loop.

Angered and chagrined by the House managers in the impeachment trial of President Bill Clinton, Mr. Bausch, a Virginia resident, e-mailed Senator John Warner, the silver-haired Republican of Virginia and frequent date of Barbara Walters (and former consort of Elizabeth Taylor) to protest. In an e-mail dated Jan. 30, Mr. Bausch wrote: "This assault on the executive branch of the Government is not only wrong, it is dangerous. If the President is removed through this partisan power play, we will have a seriously weakened executive branch for years to come." The novelist concluded: "I urge you to seek an end to this madness, this nearly McCarthyesque vendetta by a group of zealots who seem willing to trample everything in order to accomplish their purpose–what Senator Bumpers called 'wanting to win too badly.'"

On Feb. 1, Mr. Warner's e-mail reply arrived. "Dear Fellow Virginian," it began. "It is important that you have provided me with your views concerning the impeachment proceedings of President Clinton. I share your deep concern, and I assure you that I am proceeding in a manner that serves–not a political interest–but to preserve the integrity of the United States Constitution and to provide fairness and due process to all involved parties."

A few paragraphs later, after recounting and promising to adhere to the oath that Chief Justice William Rehnquist of the Supreme Court had administered to the Senate when the trial began on Jan. 7, Mr. Warner concluded, "I have great confidence that the Senate will perform its constitutional duty with fair and careful deliberation–without undue delay. I am listening carefully to the views of the people of Virginia, and I commit to you that I will reach decisions based not on politics but rather on the best interests of the nation."

Heartened by Mr. Warner's reply, the 50-year-old Mr. Bausch e-mailed back: "It is very difficult to suppose that the lines of conflict would fall so sharply along party lines if everybody was voting his conscience. I believe you are. I very much admired your refusal to support the election [of] Oliver North a few years back. I believe you have the courage to stand against the kind of animus toward a man that may end up changing this government against the expressed will of the people."

Soon, Mr. Bausch had received another reply bearing Mr. Warner's name. "Dear Fellow Virginian," it read. "It is important that you have provided me with your views concerning the impeachment proceedings of President Clinton …" The Senator's second reply was identical to his first.

"I see from this answer that your writers have crafted a global response letter to be used in all cases," Mr. Bausch e-mailed back. "So it is as though I am addressing one of those chatty Cathy dolls, where you pull the string and the same words come out, no matter what else is said. In fact, I'm sure I'll get this same form letter in answer to this e-mail. I hope you are true to form." Then, just in case there was a thinking human answering the Senator's e-mail, Mr. Bausch noted that he was "writing an article about all this, and plan to reprint the correspondence (if that is what it can be called) exactly as it unfolds."

Mr. Warner, or whomever handles his e-mail, did not disappoint.

"Ah, this is perfect," Mr. Bausch wrote back after having received his third identical response. "This is going to be so much fun to read out to people, this very direct and concerned correspondence. Let me say here that I think walla walla and didda didda and booka booka poo.… And it seems to me that our country badda bing badda boom badda ling ling ling, and that even so your responses show such pesty in flamma lamma ding dong.

"So, in these times when Democracy is at breakfast, asleep in the arms of the alimentary bood," Mr. Bausch continued, "the good thing is that ordinary citizens can actually get the pring that you have their fandaglee doodily in mind as you press forward with the concerns of government."

"Dear Fellow Virginian," came the Senator's reply, not a comma altered.

"Yes, I know, my little pigsnie, but you mustn't get too familiar now," Mr. Bausch wrote back. "It really is time to call this off, since our relationship has moved to such a stage of intimacy. When you say 'Dear fellow Virginian,' I know you mean so much more. I know this is more of your unusual reserve, your, how shall I put it, sausage and eggs. I mean I really am unable to continue, being married and a Catholic. You are so verrrry attractive, … when it comes to pulling the string, well, there's just no telling where it may lead." Mr. Bausch then added, "But I do have the important items of clothing and sasquatch sighted near Canadian border.… So, regretfully, I say farewell. One concerned citizen to a clambake; one Virginian to a baked Alaska. I remain ever faithful, ever the liver and onions, my lover, my poppyseed, my darling. With sweat socks and deep appreciation, Richard Bausch."

"My Dear Fellow Virginian …" came the reply.

Mr. Bausch's penultimate letter to Mr. Warner, at least at press time, had a wistful tone. "I am especially troubled by your persistence in using your little endearment for me when we started this relationship–do you mean it ironically?" he wrote. "I only let my closest friends and associates call me 'Fellow Virginian,' and I would think that, since we are going our separate ways, you would know that I wish you to revert back to your old term for me, the one that used to amuse you so much–oh, remember? You'd say it and then laugh so hard: 'Voter,' you'd say, and then guffaw guffaw. It used to make you so silly, that word.… And then I'd say 'representative government,' and you'd have to run to the bathroom."

Alas, Mr. Bausch wrote, "We have to move on, now. Oh, well, all right, once more for you, for old times sake, I'll use our endearment in closing." And then he did: "So I remain, then, trusting you to adhere to my wishes, your little 'voter'–your 'Fellow Virginian.'"

After receiving yet another copy of Mr. Warner's form e-mail, Mr. Bausch sent one more e-mail to the Senator, although not as himself. "Dere Sentor Warner," he wrote. "My daddy says Santa's too busy. So could you send me a bicycle? Love, Darlene."

Mr. Warner's deputy press secretary Geoff Schwartzman told The Transom: "The Senator has one letter on impeachment" that he sends to "every constituent" who writes him a letter. "That letter," Mr. Schwartzman added, "has been updated consistently and appropriately throughout the month-long trial." He said, however, that he did not "have the specific data of the last update."

Asked if anyone over at Senator Warner's office actually reads his constituents' letters, Mr. Schwartzman assured us that, while he himself was not familiar with Mr. Bausch's work, "all e-mails are printed out in the office and read".

Night of the Dog

During the opening Feb. 4 at the Pucci International gallery for photographer Christopher Makos' show, Size Matters, A Retrospective , the blond, tousle-haired artist, dressed in black leather from head to toe, was standing near the entrance, greeting friends, when he was overcome by an emotional moment. Gesturing toward the black and white photographs hung on the walls, he said, "I mean, just look at them," he said, making a sweeping motion with his hand, "I love them! I want them! You know what I mean? Even though I own them, I want them. They're my friends."

Curiously, there was only one photograph of his late friend Andy Warhol, whom Mr. Makos accompanied during the last 14 years of the pop artist's life, taking party snapshots for the back pages of Interview magazine. In 1989, Mr. Makos published a book of 150 photographs of Warhol–but at his retrospective, there was only one, of Warhol in full makeup. "I'm sick of all of it," said Mr. Makos, testily, of the Warhol association. "It's sort of like Tony Perkins and Psycho : You know–it's the thing that made you famous, and you just don't want to do it anymore. It's nice to make money off the past, but that's about it." Mr. Makos coughed, then pulled a bottle of Robitussin from his pocket and drank some.

Times have changed. With the notable exception of Kamillion, a 7-foot-tall black drag queen slinking around in a tight pair of velvet orange pants, there was little evidence of the carnival-like Warhol tradition. The crowd was mostly gay men in dark conservative clothing, studying each other more than the photos.

A few members of the old crowd did come by to wish Mr. Makos their best. Actress Sylvia Miles and Baroness Sherry von Korber-Bernstein stood apart from the crowd, chatting. When asked about the old Factory days, Ms. Miles snapped, "Look it up on Yahoo. I'm not getting paid. I'm not getting a lunch. I'm not getting a drink. I don't have to be nice."

Hanging next to the Warhol image was a photo of a dog, a hairless Chinese crested dog sporting a Warholian head of white hair. Mr. Makos pointed toward the photo and intoned, "That dog's going to be here."

As promised, the bald dog scampered in, accompanied by jewelry designer Gregg Wolf, and received a reception as if it were the dead artist himself. A crowd gathered. The dog pulled at its leash and clawed at the ground nervously. "Is this the famous dog?" asked Jill Lynne, a photographer, who got down on all fours to pet the cat-size animal. "What's his name?"

"Puc," replied Mr. Wolf.

"As in pookie? Pookie pie?" inquired Ms. Lynne.

"If you like," sniffed Mr. Wolf.

David Hochberg, a public relations executive with Lillian Vernon, was not impressed. "That is one nasty fucking dog," he said.

The gallery stopped pouring vodka promptly at 8 P.M., and Mr. Makos and friends headed to the Belgian restaurant Markt on West 14th Street. Mr. Makos sat in the middle of a long banquette. Arrayed around him were an ex-boyfriend; Michael Cohen, who orchestrated the gallery event; his hair stylist; a pretty-faced Choate prep school graduate whom Mr. Makos had photographed and who, Mr. Makos said, had taught him to play Nintendo 64; and a muscled fellow who once posed for Mr. Makos wearing only fishnet stockings.

Mr. Makos heard some commotion and looked across the dining room. "Debbie! Oh, my God, it's Debbie! Our Greek star," he said. He rose to embrace Debbie Matenopoulos, the former host of the Barbara Walters-produced ABC chatfest, The View . "I was doing a P.S.A. for cancerous children," said Ms. Matenopoulos, who was dressed in a snug pink sweater. Ms. Matenopoulos was trailed by society fashion stylist Ann Caruso and her date, the much older, and gravely tanned, movie producer, Charles Evans. Mr. Evans held court at the other end of the table, smoking and waxing nostalgic about Showgirls , a film he co-produced. "I got very horny watching it," Mr. Evans said of his time on the set.

Alexander de la Tremouille, the similarly tanned businessman who was picking up the tab for dinner, listened to Mr. Evans attentively. "I just don't think audiences got it," said Mr. de la Tremouille, shaking his head.

Ms. Matenopoulos mentioned she was worried because she had spoken with a Daily News reporter about her upcoming tell-all book. Her handlers had advised against it. "My phone hasn't rang once today," she said. "Should I be worried?"

Then Ms. Matenopoulos became philosophical. "I think, in this business, success doesn't really have that much to do with talent–it's about will," she said. "Even in Auschwitz, if you have the will, you can survive."

The following night, Ms. Matenopoulos broke her nose on her way to Moomba.

–Andrew Goldman