Attention, shoppers

Friday, March 30, 2007 | 7:12 a.m.

So when Rudy Giuliani pulls the retail politics stunt in which Man of the People Buys Shampoo Just Like You Do, and he does it at a Target store in Summerlin, an important question presents itself:

Why does Rudolph Giuliani hate America?

Let's rephrase:

Target? Why not Wal-Mart?

After all, Wal-Mart gives more money to Republicans, preaches heartland wholesomeness and sells plain clothes for plain folk, whereas Target is the discount store that pretends it isn't a discount store and hires lisping celebrity fashion designers to style its clothes.

Well, all right, Target was three miles closer to Giuliani's real destination, the Red Rock Resort, where he was headed for a cocktail reception that cost $2,300, twice that if you wanted a photo with America's Mayor.

Yes, everyone still calls him "mayor," probably because it's shorter than his current job title, "multimillionaire consultant."

Anyway, the Mayor is supposed to show up at Target at 5:15 on Wednesday evening to shop for sundries. Like any sensible shopper, he has alerted the media, which respond by sending about 10 people. Also there are 14 Target staffers, way more than you ever see when you're trying to find the barbecue coals, and 50 or 60 Rudy-ites, although they are hard to count because of the occasional befuddled shopper who is just trying to escape with her rolls of Charmin.

One teenager who's cool enough to wear sunglasses inside is leaving the store with her friend. She points lazily at the crowd.

"I could understand if Snoop was coming," she says, "but [snort] "

At 5:33 he rolls up in a white Chevy Tahoe to scattered applause and a minimob of cameras and autograph-seekers. He's gotten a TV tan, but he's still bald, which could hurt his chances (Americans haven't elected a cue-ball since 1956). Still, there are three, count 'em, three giggling teenage groupies here for the Mayor.

A powerfully built woman wearing light purple sunglasses and light purple jewelry taps my arm.

"Is it somebody famous?"

It's Rudy Giuliani, I say.

"It is Rudy!" she says and smacks her male companion's arm. She turns to me and says, "We're from New York. He must have followed us here!"

Then she's off and waving her cell phone camera at the Mayor.

But it's time for the Mayor to shop. The whole crowd surges forward, surrounding him. The Rudysphere is about five people deep, although about three of them are professional news people using cameras to document the momentous occasion.

The Mayor stalks the book aisles, or at least takes pictures with people in them. He picks up a copy of Elie Wiesel's "Night." He turns right-side up a copy of Barack Obama's book, which some helpful person had flipped over. He gets a DVD of "Remember the Titans" starring Denzel Washington. He poses for more pictures.

Then the Rudysphere rumbles toward the personal hygiene aisles, although the Mayor pauses by the purses. He looks toward them, bounces on his toes and smiles, maybe remembering his public appearances in drag.

He grabs travel-size deodorant and shampoo (probably a lifetime supply of Head & Shoulders there), gets some fad diet bars and two packs of AA batteries. More pictures, too.

At the checkout, the cashier lays it on thick and asks the Mayor if he'd like to apply for a Target Card. The Mayor does not. He pays in cash. The cashier holds the bills up to the light to see if they're counterfeit.

Outside, the Mayor stops for a few questions from the pride of Nevada's news corps.

One TV reporter asks, "Are you going to run for president?"