Let’s review: if it’s three let it be.  I just had to pull up a few sprouting milkweeds by the side of the house, didn’t I?  Gloveless, of course.  It’s not a rip-roaring case of poison ivy.  It’s more slow-moving, popping up along the veins of my right hand, like it’s on a lazy summer rafting trip.  Who knew I rested my face on my hand so much?  I’m working the Caladryl, getting everyone’s trusted remedies, and bandaging where appropriate.  Comparatively, it’s a lovely first world problem. 

  If, however,  those three are one, as in triune, as in God, well, I can’t let that be. God’s Prod, the Widow Ratzinger, that old Prada-wearing Devil, can’t let it be either.  He is bringing back the Latin Mass.  And not a moment too soon.  No more hootenanny masses with guitar strumming “Let it Be.”  I for one could not be happier.  When we were little, while my dear brothers were all trying to learn their few altarboy Latin lines,  I learned to say the whole Mass in Latin, do the hand signals, light incense and swing a censer. I am so ready.  Oh wait, I forgot. I’m a woman. Never mind. 

  Pope Ed “Good Driver” Rimer, also issued the top ten commandments of driving:  Thou shalt not use thy cell phone whilst driving.  Thou shalt not flip thy bird.  Thou shalt not make assumptions about a fellow driver’s mother’s genetic lineage.  At least I think that’s what they said.  Again the Latin.  What’s next? Bringing back s/m martyr worship and second degree relic fetishizing?  I personally am looking forward to buying a couple of indulgences.  Although I guess I could just buy some carbon offsetting points and go right to heaven.

  It’s Bear Week here in PTown!  They’re lots of fun, hairier, larger, and way less tweaked than the Circuit Party boys. The only downside of the week is that it’s hell on the drains. Upside: their pool parties are a blast.  hey run water down a turquoise waterslide, send salmon up the slide and the bears bat them away. I hope this year they will make me an honorary She-bear.  Remember, don’t keep any foodstuffs in your tent.

  Speaking of She-Bears, I’ve decided to throw my support to Hillary Clinton.  I actually notified the LGBT for Hillary people and was told that I needed to get security clearance and I haven’t heard anything back. It’s taking so long, I’m a little worried. The problem is that there is way too much tape on me in the public record. I can’t just refuse to turn over information. Who do you think I am? Dick Cheney?

  I’m just the kind of support Hillary needs. I support her despite the flak I am taking for it at home and at dinner parties.  I support her despite her despites. That she voted for the war. That she took three days to clearly rebut Peter “homosexuality is immoral” Pace. That she is mush mouthed on gay marriage. That it will once again be a woman’s job to do clean-up after the boys.

  Perhaps her people have heard that so far I only have seven “Top Ten Reasons I Support Hillary Clinton.”  She has the most experience. Yes, she’s a hawk, but she’s our hawk.  And she comes with a pale male.  She will cause Bill O’Reilly and Maureen Dowd to blow up.  Only women bleed.  At this point I’d rather be screwed over by a woman. To paraphrase Donald Rumsfeld, (sorry) “You go to the polls with the candidate you have, not the one you wish you had.”  

  If I don’t get clearance, I will be the head of the distaff “She-Bears for Hillary 2008.”  We’ll have great pool parties.  I’ll let you know when it’s safe to shake my paw.