I don't see a conservative Republican, a flirter with the Christian right, a Texas oilman, a son of political royalty. I see a guy like me who never wants to quit, who has an infinite thirst and an infinite appetite for whatever you've got and who, if he could, would drink up the whole room and then tear it apart looking for more. I see a guy barely containing a murderous contempt for anyone who doesn't drink like he does; I see a guy who has to pause when answering questions not because there's nothing in his head but because there's too much in his head and most of it is vile and the rest is obscene; no doubt the first thing that pops into his head when asked a question at a press conference is "You have the face of a barnyard animal" or "I'd like to fuck you silly." That apparent blankness, as though his brain is having a rolling blackout, is actually a sign that he's sorting, looking for an answer that's both true and bland, something that won't set off any alarms, something that will satisfy his need to tell the truth yet not give in to the grandiose and contemptuous impulses so familiar to alcoholics far and wide." Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Eileen Myles reports that : In the way that Bill Clinton was our first black president, Spielberg has given us our first butch lesbian hero. Truly, nothing is what it seems anymore.