"Then who's vice president!? Jerry Lewis?"

Some of you may recall this reaction of disbelief from film classic Back to the Future, when Marty McFly clues in incredulous "Doc" Brown to the future of the U.S. presidency: actor-turned-politician Ronald Reagan. It appears that even a zany scientist from the 1950s could not imagine politics inundated by candidates other than your run-of-the-mill political science grads and ex-attorneys.

If only Doc could see us now.

From Reagan to Sonny Bono, our modern government is no stranger to celebrities' using their already established notoriety to boost political campaigns and win elections.

And why shouldn't they? They have the money, the cult-following Web sites, the social reputation -- the next logical step can only be to want the political power. It is one thing to get off a DUI without a scratch; it is certainly another to possess the capability of clemency, or essentially, authority over life and death.

From an extrinsic perspective, it seems ludicrous to let Hollywood take over yet another facet of American life. And yet, in our appearance-based society, it does make sense.

Compare California Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger's Mr. Olympia shots to recent photos of Florida Gov. Jeb Bush. Schwarzenegger looks like he could crush a bus with his left hand. Decades later, he's tan, fit and still looks great. Meanwhile, Bush looks like five crunches would kill him; the closest I can imagine him involved in athletic competition would be attending Little League games wearing a beer helmet. When it comes to statewide reforms and remedial accomplishments, one is not much superior to the other. But at first glance, on deciding who should command sway over mortality, my money's on the Terminator.

Lately, it seems we have entered an even newer political era: athletes running for office. Former Pittsburgh Steelers wide receiver Lynn Swann is now vying for governor of Pennsylvania.

However, Swann is not the first athlete-turned-politician. He is preceded by many others, including fellow Hall of Famer Steve Largent, an ex-Seattle Seahawk and ex-Congressman from Oklahoma, and former New York Knick Bill Bradley, who served in the Senate for nearly two decades.

Besides celebrity status, since we have not yet entered the terrifying realm of male models in office, there must be some familiar thread between actors and athletes, or else why are we choosing them to be our leaders?

One thing Swann and Schwarzenegger have in common is that they both served as chairman of the President's Council on Physical Fitness and Sports, "creating and implementing the President's fitness agenda for America," according to www.swannforgovernor.com.

Is it ironic that these political transformations are occurring as obesity continues to be one of America's biggest concerns? Subconsciously, are we electing leaders based on the assumption that because they can lift weights, they can conduct a governorship? Is our political future, some sort of "fitness filter" for weeding out strong leaders? If you can't run a mile, you can't be mayor?

There's got to be more to it.

If you ask me, actors seem to make better politicians, but athletes make better leaders. Actors make a living smiling, looking good and convincing people they are something they are not.

Sounds like the textbook definition of a politician.

Athletes, on the other hand, experience physical and mental rigor throughout their career. Captains, especially, must have powers of diplomacy and the ability to decide a winning strategy that benefits the common good.

Philadelphia Eagles quarterback Donovan McNabb could be next. But at least he can't be any worse than Jerry Springer, who, I'm not joking, was once mayor of Cincinnati.

Of course, athletes themselves must have some degree of intellect, and most who are elected do. Bradley was a Rhodes Scholar.

In fact, this revolution of physically fit leaders could be a good thing. I can't imagine Swann choking on a pretzel or falling off a stage in a campaign rally.

He's got my vote.