In Spider-Man 3 the title character -- could we call him an "Arachno-American"? -- leads a double life.

But Spider-Man is in the wrong city: New Yorkers feel no need to hide anything; they are open about themselves, eager to let it all hang out. Spidey should have been in Washington, D.C., where duality is king and hypocrisy is queen.

The Beltway is currently atwitter with speculation about the so-called "D.C. Madam’s" black book, now in the possession of ABC News. So far, a couple of paying customers have been identified, but ABC is working through the phone numbers of up to 15,000 "johns," presumably doling out identities in ratings-maximizing increments.

So who is leading a double life? You know, public servant by day, priapist by night? Who is the "Bush administration economist" said to be on The List? Who is "the head of a conservative think tank"?

And oh, by the way, who are the 132 women who worked for the Madam’s Pamela Martin & Associates over the years? Some have reportedly gone on to more respectable careers -- although they might have some ‘splaining to do, for the benefit of new employers and husbands.

Which is to say, the capital could get hit harder than Spidey hits the New Goblin. In fact, human drama is more entertaining anyway: From Hamlet to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, it’s the struggle within that’s most compelling.

And New York City is refreshingly free of that sort of torment. Why? Because in Manhattan there’s no reason to hide one’s lust for fame, money or other people -- without much regard to traditional gender roles. Why be coy when everyone else is doing it, too?

But D.C. is different: The currency here is political power. And ultimately that power is conferred by the voters back home, many of whom adhere to traditional virtues. So Beltwayites have to manage the conflict between their own personal values and the values of "flyover country." Now you know where "spin" comes from.

Indeed, those politicos who don’t pay deference, however hypocritical, are vulnerable to being voted out. A big reason that Tom Daschle, for example, is an ex-senator from South Dakota is what became clear to the folks back home -- that Ol’ Tom was enjoying a millionaire’s lifestyle on D.C.’s Foxhall Road, thanks to his lobbyist wife, and not sharing the hardships of hardworking farmers on the Great Plains.

Washingtonians are always on notice: Prop up the pillars of duality -- or else. Upfront, onstage, Sen. John McCain of Arizona is a war hero and solid statesman. But everybody in town knows that backstage McCain is temperamental and then some. So his challenge, as he seeks the presidency, is to keep his public face up and his private side down.

Alas, as with Spider-Man, the strain is clearly showing. To watch McCain is to be reminded of the witch scene in Shakespeare’s Macbeth, where the crones gather to stir their Scots’ pot of vicious political intrigue, chanting, "Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble." (Yes, that scene gave us the much-riffed phrase "eye of newt" -- but there’s no time, now, for the Lives of Newt Gingrich.)

But if McCain is a troubled king of the capital, then surely Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton is an equally uneasy queen. In public, she is resolute, wonky and, of course, happily married. But in private, whuzzup with her and Bill? And is it really true that she has a "spectacular" sense of humor, as claimed by her professional best friend, Terry McAuliffe? And what about that lamp-throwing incident -- or was that just a joke?

In the movie, Spider-Man is transformed by a black and sticky parasite from outer space. But in D.C. people are transformed from within, poisoned by the bile of their own ambition. And because life is not a movie, there’s no miracle cure.