In his "half resignation" speech (which might better be titled a "please beg me to stay" speech), Bolivian President Carlos Mesa railed against Evo Morales, he railed against the neighborhood groups of El Alto, he railed against the elites of Santa Cruz, he railed against Felipe "El Mallku" Quispe... it's all their fault, he railed, the fact that Bolivia is on the verge of a paralyzing national road blockade.

Already, he said, the city of Sucre (the symbolic capital of the country where Mesa was scheduled to sign an historic, if of dubious legality, gas export deal with Argentine President Nestor Kirchner), is isolated, running out of gas and food, as a result of just the preliminary blockades... the political capital of La Paz soon faces the same... the La Paz airport (in El Alto) on the brink of being closed...

It's absolute chaos, he can't please all sides (the social movements, nor the elites of Santa Cruz, nor - the ones he feared to mention - the pressures by the U.S. government) and any one of these sides has power to block his paths... And so he took a gamble, saying, basically, unless you beg me to stay, I will resign.

Congress, thus, has to either accept or reject his resignation. In a five-party congress with three parties (the old guard MIR and MNR, and the rebel MAS) each splitting decisive votes, the math is apparently simple:

If any two of those three parties decide that Mesa must stay, he stays.

If any two of those three parties decide that Mesa must go, he goes.

The early statements from two party leaders, Evo Morales of the MAS and Mirtha Quevedo of MNR, said "adios and good riddance."

BUT... what they say is not always what they do.

Tonight, U.S. Ambassador David Greenlee is working the phones trying to get the MIR and the MNR to convince Mesa to stay.

The whole thing has the smell of a charade: immediately after Mesa's televised "half resignation" speech, "spontaneous" (yeah, right) demonstrations appeared in the four largest cities in the country urging him to stay. Some wire reports suggested "thousands" participating: in the largest one, in La Paz, the crowd did not reach even a thousand people. There is a kind of simulation going on. Of course. It's politics.

But what is really at stake?

If Mesa stays, the social protests continue.

If Mesa resigns, the social protests continue.

The "line of succession" is not any clearer.

Constitutionally, next in line for the presidency is Senator Hormando Vaca Díez, of the Institutional Revolutionary Movement party (MIR, in its Spanish initials).

He is so hated by the social movements, especially up the hill from the halls of Congress in La Paz, and especially in that shining city on that hill El Alto, that - our sources believe - the population of El Alto will come down from the hills and shut down the National Palace and halls of Congress if he becomes president.

Thus, a scared Vaca Diez was putting out signals last night that if the presidency falls to him like a hot potato, he, too, will resign.

If the number-two guy doesn't take the job, then it goes to Congressman Mario Cossio, of the National Revolutionary Movement (MNR, in its Spanish initials). The prospects for governability aren't any better with him at the helm.

Tomorrow (well, already today) at High Noon, a public assembly in the hotspot known as El Alto will probably have more to do with Bolivia's immediate future than what happens in Congress. El Alto will take the lead and the rest of the social movements - with, together, the power to blockade the entire country to a standstill - will synchronize watches.

What the social movements want is the immediate convocation of a "Constituent Assembly" (with citizens elected from all sectors) to remake the government of Bolivia.

And they want new elections.

And here's where the rubber gets blockaded on the road:

The gringos in Washington have their hand-picked candidate for President in the 2006 elections: former President Jorge "Tuto" Quiroga, the darling of the beltway and of Wall Street.

Tuto was Vice President to the former military dictator Hugo Banzer. He filled Banzer's vacancy and served out the term. But, under Bolivian law, it means Tuto can't legally run for president until after July 1, 2005.

Thus, if new elections are convened (and if Mesa's resignation is accepted, no one will be able to govern without calling them within 90 days), Tuto will be effectively out of the game.

(As to the rightness or wrongness of limits on re-election or second time service as president, I've always found such "laws" dubious - the people ought to decide, always, who the president may be - but it is what it is, and therefore the real situation must be analyzed as it is.)

Mesa's threat and diatribe - against Evo Morales, against the social movements, against the elites of Santa Cruz, against everybody - was also a direct hit on the calendar and agenda of Washington.

It puts into the play the possibility that Tuto - who the foreigners consider their coming savior - will not be a candidate in the next presidential race.

Thus, Washington, have toyed with Mesa again and again, suddenly gets toyed back.

And the Viceroy, um, I mean, the Ambassador is up all night trying to save Mesa, like a placemark, for his boy Tuto to be able to replace him after it is legal to do so... after July 1.

This is the untold story behind the story. It's all about Tuto and Washington's cocaine-like addiction to him. And in this, Mesa has just put a vice grip around Washington's eggs.

He's done it from a position of weakness, because his back is up against the wall. But now he's done it.

Now everybody - and I mean everybody - is scared. And well they should be. The prospect of jumping from a devil they know to a devil they don't know is filled with uncertainty and risk. Evo and the MNR may be talking tough tonight about accepting Mesa's resignation. But tomorrow? As Scarlet O'Hara said, it's another day.

But one thing is certain. The social movements march in with or without Mesa. And they remain with the power - no matter who is nominally "in charge" - to blockade the entire country to a halt.

That makes this coming week in Bolivia a hair-splitter for all sides.

Short of a swiftly scheduled Constituent Assembly and fast new elections, the accidental president (Mesa assumed power only by virtue of being vice president to the disgraced and exiled Gonzales Sanchez de Lozada), nobody will be able to govern that country. Nobody.

And Tuto's Washington-pulled strings face the scissors of history and of a law that, when we was president before, was fine by him.

That's the story beneath the story: Washington's rooster in the cockfight is in check. And all the rational exit signs bring elections before he can crow again.