As I scan the posters of a Pittsburgh-based effort to bring regime change to America, I can't help but see this election season as a throwback to the early 19th century.

We're all too aware of news media and strategies unknown to the America of our forefathers. Focus groups, scientific polling, television attack ads, bumper stickers, talk radio and Web sites have thickened the soup of politics. But after these anti-Bush posters from the Partisan Project were handed to me, it occurred to me that not much has changed.

"Lies, Deceit, Arrogance, War," declares one featuring the silhouette of a cowboy on a bucking bronco.

The portrayal of President Bush is akin to how political rivals of presidential candidate Andrew Jackson portrayed him in 1828: a bumbling, dangerous man from out West.

Likewise, on almost any talk radio station today, you can hear a rabid host portraying John Kerry as an effete drip from Massachusetts, just as Jackson's backers said of his rival, President John Quincy Adams.

The analogy is by no means perfect and some roles are reversed. In 2004, the Westerner is the incumbent and the challenger is from New England. In this election, the man from Massachusetts is the combat veteran. In 1828, it was the Westerner Jackson.

But, as in 1828, the sitting president is the son of a former president, separated from him by a single initial. In each case, too, he is in office despite losing the popular vote.

Jackson lost the presidency in 1824 to Adams because a third candidate kept him from an electoral majority. The House of Representatives chose Adams after that third candidate, Henry Clay, made a deal to get himself named secretary of state. (Ralph Nader, you're no Henry Clay.)

We seemed a long way from all that in the Strip District loft that Brett Yasko, 35, shares with his wife, Sarah Sirlin, and their infant, Nate. Like a lot of people in both political camps, Yasko believes this election is the most important in his lifetime. Unlike most, he's doing something about it.

Yasko makes his living designing everything from books to museum exhibitions. He'd never thought of himself as political, but he didn't want to simply write a check to the Kerry campaign. So he came up with a tactic older than the republic itself: using posters and pamphleteering to turn heads.

He invited 15 designers and artists, in Pittsburgh and on both coasts, to each design a poster that would stop people in their tracks. The 15 posters have been gathered in 10,000 packs, and these 150,000 posters will soon be distributed in the manner of free newsweeklies. They'll be dropped in bookstores, coffee houses, restaurants, libraries, grocery stores and college campuses. They are also available for downloading on the Web from www.partisanproject.org.

You could flip through the posters and not know someone other than Bush is running. No poster mentions Kerry.

"Let's Start Over," designed by Sirlin and Yasko, is about as kind as any get. These posters will either thrill you or boil your blood, but they won't leave anyone wondering where the artist stands. "No W." might be as straightforward as any three letters in political history.

On the back of each poster pack is a 1,500-word essay by Chris Potter, managing editor of Pittsburgh City Paper, doing his best Thomas Paine impression:

"Bush reportedly believes he was appointed by God -- which is just as well, since most of us didn't vote for him. ... During the 2000 campaign, he promised to be a uniter, not a divider, yet here we are: as divided as we've ever been. ... If you really want to see some flip-flopping, try nailing down the reasons we went [to war in Iraq] in the first place."

Almost in afterthought, Potter offers mild praise for Kerry, and then ends his piece by echoing the line so often said of Bush: "Whether you agree or not, at least you know where we stand."

This fall we're going to tussle like it's 1828. Jackson won that one going away. This one might depend on you.