IT’S PERSONAL. It just so happens that I have a couple of really ugly-ass dogs in this fight over embryonic stem-cell research. Not many political issues are personal with me, but this one deeply is. I have watched slow death from neurological disease once too often in my life to be anything but furious when Sam Brownback, a United States senator to the everlasting embarrassment of that body, pulls out a child’s drawing of an embryo with a smiley-face in order to argue his position. Or when Tony Snow, that towering public fake, starts getting glib about “murder,” as though there isn’t enough blood lapping at the ankles of everyone in this White House to float a barge. Or when Snow’s boss, that tough-talkin’, crumb-spittin’, neck-rubbin’ international buckaroo, uses the first veto of his presidential career and then hides behind children while maundering incoherently about a “moral line” as though he’d recognize one if he fell over it. Is there any doubt that, if this guy got Parkinson’s Disease, he’d eat those little buggers out of the petri dish with a spoon, probably dribbling some of them on Tony Blair in the process? Sorry, Ez. I don’t give a damn how tactically brilliant this may be. I look at this action and this is what I know — that millions of Americans will die horrible deaths and the government of the United States doesn’t give a good goddamn about them. Period. And, no, Senator Obama, I don’t have to respect the deeply held beliefs of anyone who condemns their fellow human beings to miserable suffering on the basis of anthropomorphized blastocysts in the service of an anthropomorphized god. Were it in my power, I’d run all those former embryos out of government until they grew the hell up.