Cowboy Confessional

Nancy Pelosi represents San Francisco – the small subsegment thereof still in psilocybin rehab overdoes from their last Grateful Dead concert.

During her weekly press parade Nancy showed an expression other than perpetual surprise, her mug permanently frozen in that latter state once she discovered that proposed health insurance legislation would not cover Botox. In response to a question concerning popular backlash against Uncle Sugar meddling further in the insurance industry, Nancy had a flashback to the San Francisco of the 1970s, managing to mentally connect intense debate over insurance with a homicidal ex-cop named Dan White.

“I have concerns about some of the language that is being used because I saw … I saw this myself in the late ’70s in San Francisco. This kind of rhetoric is just, is really frightening and it created a climate in which we, violence took place.”

Nancy should visit nearby Oakland if she wants the pure picture of violence. More Oaktown residents are killed off each day over nothing in particular than were done by all Dixicrats combined.

The reason Pelosi does not represent San Francisco is that, by and large, San Francisco’s population is sane. Goofy, perhaps, Colorful, no doubt. Outside of mainstream America, demonstrably. Yet The City’s average non-Tenderloin resident has the ability to compartmentalize drug-addled-post-Viet-Nam San Francisco from recent, animated town hall meetings. Or maybe Pelosi was reacting to the harsh words of her cohort Representative Pete Stark’s who last week commented to a constituent “I wouldn’t dignify you by peeing on your leg. It wouldn’t be worth wasting the urine.”

San Franciscans love raucous debate. This town is like a never ending Monty Python sketch where we collectively demand an argument. Being such a feisty bunch, we know from personal experience that humans can voice an opinion passionately and with enough volume to drown out Blue Angel fly-overs or Chris Daly tirades, and still not come to blows. Despite several months of town hall meetings, tea parties and televised tantrums, no bloodshed has come to pass (well, there was a MoveOn.org supporter who bit the finger off an old man down in Ventura County, but we’ll assume his dose of psilocybin had not yet worn off).

Yet Pelosi frets. She assumes language is a reliable leading indicator of action. This may be true when an overweight Powel Street pan handlers can’t think up anything more original than “I haven’t eaten all week” and wonders why his paper cup remains empty.

Yes, other left of Mao activist have recently started to play the race card in a connotative slur campaign to quell dissent, using white guilt as a noose. That didn’t work. Rhetorical pitch remains high and American behavior remains amazing shy of slugfests. Odds are more bloody noses will erupt in SoMo bars tonight over bad juke box selections than in an entire summer of health insurance debate.

Therein is the disconnect between Pelosi and San Franciscans having second thoughts about electing her. They are sane enough to understand that this is an important debate, but a debate nonetheless. Nancy sees it as looming warfare. The extra residents in her mental attic have convinced her of things that are not while the balance of The City knows better.

Best take your meds Nancy … and I don’t mean the Botox.

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