Of course, it's not a point that can be proved either way. He says he never was an alcoholic, but he's a politician, so I accept that as a necessary political lie. To me, he's our recovered alcoholic president, and that's that. (In the world of alcoholics, some people say "recovering" and some people say "recovered," the position of the former being that recovery is an ongoing process and that one is never "cured" of alcoholism. But Bush has made it plain that he thinks whatever it was he had, he has recovered from it.)

But even that would be of no consequence if his alcoholism didn't provide a key to his character and a predictor of his behavior. As we saw with our previous presidential poster boy for dysfunctional overachievers, a president's private, apolitical demons can shape our political fate as profoundly as those public words and deeds about which we can more confidently report and debate.

A drunk hides nothing from another drunk. So when I look at Bush, 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.

Again, those who think he's merely slick and calculating might argue that what I see in him -- the barely contained rage, the gaps in thought, the glinting hunger for a never-ending party -- is simply further evidence that he's a dry drunk, and that whatever Christianity he's laid claim to is just a pose.

He does seem to have a mean side. This can be seen in the chilling relish he displayed in an interview with Talk magazine when imitating death row inmate Karla Faye Tucker's voice ("'Please,' Bush whimpers, his lips pursed in mock desperation, 'don't kill me'") and the alleged Fourth of July incident in which he dismissed a man who said he disagreed with his policies, saying "Who cares what you think!"

But my view is that, like most recovered alcoholics, he's still got some growing up to do. He didn't stop drinking until he was 40. You'd expect to see some rough edges. Of course, to be glad that our poor recovered president is finally displaying some genuine human emotion is fantastically weird, and sad, in itself. I don't deny that. I didn't vote for him. I've seen recovering alcoholics trying to act in an organized way and that was enough for me. But do those lapses mean he's a dry drunk? I don't think so. They just mean he hasn't been transformed into a saint.

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