I’m taking it easy, eating, shopping, reading, watching old movies, thinking about life and death and love and the essential folly of human existence. Not really in the mood to blog, and there’s nothing in the newspapers that’s made my adrenaline race yet this holiday weekend. Meanwhile, if you’re bored and want to read a truly sensational column, try this one on for size. It’s Friedman’s best column yet, and by the last few sentences you should be sufficiently enraged to volunteer for the Democrats so we win the country back. Utterly devastating, and uncharacteristically angry for Friedman.

Sample:

If I can’t be The Man, then I at least want to be the owner of a Hummer – with American flag decals all over the back bumper, because Hummer owners are, on average, a little more patriotic than you and me.

Yes, I want to drive the mother of all gas-guzzlers that gets so little mileage you have to drive from gas station to gas station. Yes, I want to drive my Hummer and never have to think that by consuming so much oil, I am making transfer payments to the worst Arab regimes that transfer money to Islamic charities that transfer money to madrassas that teach children intolerance, antipluralism and how to hate the infidels.

And when one day one of those madrassa graduates goes off and joins the jihad in Falluja and kills my neighbor’s son, who is in the U.S. Army Rangers, I want to drive to his funeral in my Hummer. Yes, I want to curse his killers in front of his mother and wail aloud, “If there was only something I could do …” And then I want to drive home in my Hummer, stopping at two gas stations along the way.