In the two weeks since Sen. John McCain of Arizona named Sarah Palin as his vice presidential running mate, billing her as a sister "maverick," the Alaska governor has been revealed to be something less.

Instead, she appears to be a conventional statehouse politician, a quicker study than many but less experienced than most, a politician more than willing to exploit the perks of her office, abuse its powers and fudge her record in the pursuit of her ambitions.

This is not change. This is politics as usual. This is George W. Bush in red patent-leather, peep-toe Naughty Monkey pumps.

Worse, perhaps. Bush, at least, would have known what the "Bush Doctrine" was when questioned about it by ABC's Charlie Gibson on Thursday. Palin clearly had no clue, though to be fair, a year before Bush was elected president, he couldn't name the then-leader of Pakistan, Pervez Musharraf. Palin easily rattled off "Saakashvili" and "Ahmadinejad" when asked about conditions in Georgia and Iran. She also pronounced "nuclear" correctly.

Alas, Palin seemed all too willing to go to war to defend Georgia if that nation is allowed to join NATO, which she supports, and to stand by Israel if it decides to bomb Iran's nuclear facilities.

The Gibson interviews amply demonstrated why the McCain campaign kept Palin away from the press for a week. She had a lot of cramming to do. When Gibson asked her about her national security credentials, you could almost hear her coaches saying, "If he asks you about national security, governor, steer the conversation to oil. If he asks you about whether our troops are on a on a mission from God, here's an old Abraham Lincoln quote to throw at him; it's not relevant, but maybe it will confuse him."

Palin survived her coming out party, but not well enough that the McCain campaign seems willing to trust her on her own. The campaign indicated Friday that the GOP ticket will campaign together for the next few weeks, the better for him to bask in her reflected glow and the better for her to avoid unscripted moments.

That decision speaks volumes about the fundamental cynicism of the Republican campaign, built around image and distortion, not the reality of the candidates' qualifications or ideas. It screams "politics as usual." If Sarah Palin is ready to be president of the United States, she should be willing to campaign on her own.

At some point, Palin must face questions without scripts and without chaperones. Voters must hear her talk not in vague bromides and generalities, but in specifics. She must offer details, not fuzzy denials, about why a pork-barrelling mayor and governor now pretends to be a reformer.

She must explain her role in what Alaskans call "Troopergate," whether she tried to fire a state official who wouldn't fire her former brother-in-law, a state trooper. She should explain why she thinks it is right to collect state money for staying in her own home in Wasilla and to fly her family to and from Wasilla and the state capital at state expense. She must explain the strange inconsistencies between her record and her public remarks.

Otherwise, voters will be left with no other conclusion: She's a hothouse flower from a cold climate, not remotely ready for prime time.

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