RACISM REARS ITS UGLY HEAD: I am a racist. Yes, I am. I know this particularly unsavory fact about myself because Janeane Garofalo says so. Ms. Garofalo comes to us from the morally and psychically elevated plane of Hollywood, whose denizens can spot the lurking shadow of racism in a linen closet full of white sheets. So, I am a racist, as are the tens of thousands of people who either went to last week’s tea parties or supported the demonstrators’ aims. This, I think, is always a good thing to know about yourself, even if the sight of an affluent white woman playing the race card seems a bit cognitively dissonant at first; I will have to get over this. It seems that I am a racist because I object to the former senator from Illinois’ plan to spend the nation into bankruptcy. You wouldn’t think that fiscal policy could support a charge of racism; spending money you don’t have seems fairly color blind to me; but you’d be wrong there. Ms. Garofalo knows better and we must all defer to her superior wisdom. In fact, non-supporters of the distinguished gentleman from Illinois should simply stop spewing our racist hate altogether and be still while our betters decide what’s best for us. I was a bit nonplussed at this; I was under the impression that petitioning the government for a redress of grievances was in the Constitution somewhere and that dissent was the highest form of patriotism, but I guess I was wrong about that.