Of the seven deadly sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontation still to come, to savor the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are giving and the pain you are given back — in many ways a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton of the feast is you.


