It was from New Orleans -- specifically the Katrina-ravaged Ninth Ward -- that Edwards, looking lean in jeans and blue shirt, made his announcement. A simple, Everyman affair, there were no bands or flags, no pennants or patriotic paraphernalia.

Just the raw facts cast against the dreary background of a storm-ravaged house under repair.

In case this isn't perfectly clear, Edwards isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Even though a mega-millionaire, he still identifies with the downtrodden and underprivileged. Because -- I think I'm right here -- he's the son of a millworker.

Not only has Edwards been toiling in the fetid muck of Katrina's aftermath, he's been scouring the planet for the meek and disenfranchised. He established a poverty institute at the University of North Carolina and has visited several of Earth's most ravaged nations. He also has apologized countless times for voting to invade Iraq.

The trick for any politician -- but especially a populist like Edwards, who is trying to build a case for ending what he calls ``Two Americas'' -- is to appear to be a regular guy. Not too rich, too scripted or too sophisticated. This is increasingly difficult for the multimillionaires who pursue high office these days, but Edwards has mastered the act.

At his announcement, he spoke without notes, just talkin' about a few modest goals: ending the war in Iraq, universalizing health care, ending genocide and poverty.

Passionate, but not overwrought, he conveyed the persona of a deeply caring man who wants to make the world a better place. Either that, or the persona of a deeply cunning litigator adept at pulling a jury's heartstrings, which usually precedes the pulling of someone else's purse strings.

Even the sans-serif font on the John Edwards logo is plain and straightforward. But that's where simplicity ends and sophistication triumphs. In Edwardsian politics, sans-serif is a tactic and simplicity a strategy.

No sooner were Edwards' words ignored than they were captured in a YouTube segment and posted on his ``Tomorrow Begins Today'' Web site, which features an array of high-tech options for the wired generation. Visitors can sign up for e-mail alerts, mobile phone messages, and even click on a bar for espanol: El manana comienza hoy. Nothing unsophisticated about that.

Edwards, the aw-shucks country boy, may have unfortunate timing, but his mama didn't raise no fool. Neither did his daddy, who, you may have heard, was a millworker.