Thursday, February 09, 2006

Thomas Friedman plays the woman scorned

Performing the dual roles of confessor and confessee, his own Linda Tripp and Monica Lewinsky, my husband Thomas Friedman found a new way to embarrass himself this week with "No More Mr. Tough Guy."

Thomas Friedman, for all his Joan Crawford drama posing, does not go over easy as a scorned woman. But there it was, for the whole world to see. His personal kiss-off letter to Dick Cheney. His "Dear, and Screw You, John" letter in Wednesday's New York Times.

The fly in his man tan? Laura Ingraham whom Dick Cheney now runs to. It's not as though Dick was ever Thomas Friedman's first choice. The whole world knew he was carrying the torch for Bully Boy so there's little chance that Dick didn't know as well. But it's always a shocker when your safety school denies you admission and there was Thomas Friedman boo-hoo-ing and vowing "No more."

Gail Collins actually found the column "sprite." She told me that during her "no hard feelings" call. No, Gail, no "hard feelings," no feelings at all. I don't waste time feeling anything for those not worthy of it. It's not my problem that in your racist little world Coretta Scott King's not worthy of an editorial or a column. Just like it's not my problem that no one ever taught you how to use a pair of tweezers.

And it certainly won't be my problem when Gail Collins brushes up against Davy Brooks, as I counseled her to do, and purrs, "I like farm animals."

She wanted an ice breaker. I told her to try that and to try to be sexual. That confused her, so I told her to act like she does when she stubs her big toe. She then managed to almost convincingly purr "I like farm animals."

"And I do," Gail told me in that chirpy voice. "I love horses and I loved Black Beauty when I was a little girl. That's a book, Betinna, don't start back up with that racist nonsense!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Gail," I replied. "Just remember, 'I like farm aminals' while you press up against him."

"Do you really think he'll get the message?"

"I'm sure he will, Gail, I'm sure he will."

"Well whatever it takes. I am smitten with Mr. Brooks."

As she continued babbling on with what probably passed for girl talk at the turn of the century, the last century, I tuned her out and focused on Thomas Friedman standing before the mirror, trying on his new, red beret. Well Monica Lewinsky had a large ass too.