Those searching for that special Christmas gift might wish to consider a feminist T-shirt bearing the inscription "Well Behaved Women Rarely Make History." This quotation, a piece of distilled wisdom from Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, a famed historian and Pulitzer Prize winner, is an encouragement to women everywhere.

But, of course, it is also an encouragement to men in a more disreputable sense, because we men well understand that well-behaved women are often -- how shall we put it delicately? -- not a whole lot of fun. (On a sad personal note, I don't know how many young women I asked back in the day to make history with me only to be rebuffed.)

My point is that this quotation has meaning for both sexes -- and not just in the vile, male, heavy-breathing sense. Not to get into an argument with a T-shirt or a famous historian, but the quotation should read: "Well Behaved Men and Women Rarely Make History."

Think of it: Most of the great revolutionaries were quite revolting. They didn't mind their p's and q's. They often did not bother to say please and thank you. They used books of etiquette as door stops. They weren't much for the niceties.

It is not nice to be unsympathetic to the social niceties. Even Jesus, meek and mild, made quite a fuss in the temple when he tossed out the money changers. That sort of behavior would not be acceptable at most country clubs today, where the members take a dim view of the money changers being disturbed in the bar or on the golf course.

Later, Martin Luther came along and nailed his theses to the church door, a very rude defacing of private property -- and certainly not the way his mother taught him to knock.

Which brings me to James Webb, the senator-elect from Virginia. Mr. Webb had a sharp exchange with President Bush at a White House reception recently.

Mr. Webb had made an effort of avoiding the president but the president found him anyway and the fun began. As reported by The Washington Post, it went like this:

Mr. Bush asked him, "How's your boy?" (Mr. Webb's son is a Marine serving in Iraq.)

"I'd like to get them out of Iraq, Mr. President," Mr. Webb responded.

"That's not what I asked you," Mr. Bush said. "How's your boy?"

"That's between me and my boy, Mr. President," Mr. Webb said.

This unfriendly exchange led to a good deal of high-minded objections in public forums. The columnist George F. Will had a mighty case of superior sniffing, and one could almost picture his well-bred nostrils twitching at the mention of such a social faux pas. Bill O'Reilly, speaking for the junk yard dog community, also entered the fray to castigate Mr. Webb for his discourtesy.

Even the reliably liberal Post-Gazette took the president's part, leading to widespread befuddlement in its circulation area.

Courtesy rules! Yes, this is a good thing -- and if you don't like it, why, I may just punch you in the nose.

And yet I find myself as torn as an old feminist T-shirt. While I do think that manners matter, and personal exchanges should be civil at every level, I am less impressed with presidential deference than respecting the host of a reception.

According to my own personal protocol, hors d'oeuvres are serious business and the man (or woman) ultimately responsible for the quality of canapes at a reception is due the most polite consideration. Churlish remarks are only justified if no hors d'oeuvres are served.

I do not know whether Mr. Webb was disappointed with little grilled cheese sandwiches or prunes wrapped in bacon. Assuming he was adequately supplied with tasty tidbits, my guess is that he was indeed a bit of a boor.

Yet I come back to that piece of wisdom: Well Behaved Men and Women Rarely Make History. Regrettably, and as much as polite eyebrows rose, that edgy exchange about the tragedy of Iraq was something that the well-closeted Mr. Bush needed to hear. He never seems to hear it anywhere else.

Instead, Mr. Bush is forever appearing before soldiers who must remain dutifully silent. It seems the only chance an average person has of making himself heard would be if Mr. Bush saw a lot of uniforms and inadvertently walked in on a convention of hotel doormen.

History begs to be changed and maybe there's no polite way to say it.