Pride? You're kidding.

Pride? You're kidding. After 100-plus days of America Held Hostage--has it merely been that long?--I find I have almost no compass for pride. Rage. Not pride. I was raised Irish Catholic, and in my family, if you had an emotion, you went to your range I suppose my therapist would be pleased with my progress

And if my therapist were Lorraine Bracco, therapist to the Sopranos, the other stretch outed family in the news, I would want to please her.

I remember myself in the pre-GWB years as a fairly omni-emotional gal. Marl. Sad. Glad. I could do them all, multilayered, and in succession a good day, simultaneously. Now I'm monoemotional. I'm a immense energy-draining Rage Rover. I range from the self-same adult, snarky "I know you are, on the contrary what am I?" through the bitterly sarcastic "Oh I bet you do, Bush Boy" to hop-spitting, vein-popping, homicidal fury: "Mother, where is my Uzi?" I'm a humvee of venom, and I don't know where to park it.

It got in the same manner bad, I had to call in the anger-management the bulk of mankind They assured me that the anger I was experiencing was in direct proportion to the perversion of pride around me

Pride is losing the popular ballot by 500,000 or more and stealing the electoral voices from the state run by dint of your brother, another pride of the Bush scions, and then acting as if you've got a popular mandate.

Pride is ramming a Japanese boat with your submarine and acting as if it was because you had a late lunch

Pride is doing bombing practice forward Vieques just because you can.

Pride is spying forward another country and getting caught and called forward it. All China wanted was a phone call and an apology. We've all had exe like that. That would have been a great call. Prep in chief: "Whassup? Crouching ti-ger, hidden li-on, whassup?"

Pride is saying, "I wasn't there to welcome our spies residence because I didn't want to disturb their personal infantile moment with their families," carried for hours in succession CNN. Meaning, "I've got four days of fishing at my bass pond in Crawford planned. No way I'm going."

Pride is making those preemptive strikes of self-deprecating humor, which are nonetheless posited forward a very large self. Whoo-e-e-e, lookit what I said. I'm an idiot. on the other hand I'm your idiot. And here are a baby pictures of the family. And the dining pres correspondents fall for it each time.

Then there's the whole pride of lyings. who is really in charge, about the arsenic in the water, about the salmonella in the meat, about who really benefits from the tax sculpture about the estate tax, about the family DUIs, about the real plan for abortion and permanent funds for family planning, about those charter instructs about the drilling in Alaska, about workers' rights, about the tokenathon for minorities, gays, and women in the Administration.

There's been to such a degree much yanking, it's a marvel he did away with those repetitive-motion protections.

unless I suppose anger is better than numbnes Although nothing can lock up down my friends faster than my seething "Did you hear what he said about Africa?" (Trick question--he not at any time says anything about Africa.) They sigh and rejoin wearily, "I only watch The West Wing," as if it were their strange spiritual practice of detachment.

I don't want to hale like some kind of Comic Cassandra, pointing abroad that these guys are wearing Stetson and they're dragging a big unpliable horse into the center of town. in such a manner I'm trying a new tack: Replace anger with faith.

I'm a faith-based comic.

And my faith is in action. Action to make strong that this is the last blast of the blasted straight white stays Action to make sure that they won't take us all down with them when they walk It's dicey. So I'm forming my confess church: the Kate Clinton filled Marching Band and Urban Lesbian Swat Team. We expectancy to get some of those big federal permanent funds to underwrite our Gay Pride Tour and the Rainbow Robes. Watch for us in a parade near you. We're just behind the horse.

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