People get so pissed off at Ann Coulter. I never really saw her before, but when her name is mentioned in my circles, muthafuckas go off. I realized I needed to do some research on her. Generally, I will read everything and agree somewhat with everyone, even extreme or stupid points of view, because anyone that can get it together to write a book is kind of cool. The worse the author is, the more I enjoy it. Schadenfreude never fails to capture me in a web of desire. I got that “You got me at ‘Hello’.” – feeling when reading the forward for SLANDER, written by high ass junkie pill popper Rush Limbaugh. I cannot believe that he was able to put sentences together while on all those fucking drugs, which explains his chaotic and disturbing point of view and therefore makes him an incredible idiot savant.
I dove into Ann’s writing, which was a cross between bizarre accusations about liberal politicians and psycho babble hyperbolic lies that make no sense. The conservative men love her, because she is a loyal slave to the status quo. She is Cunta Kinte. As well as betraying her gender, as a notoriously anti-feminist woman hater, she is also racist, homophobic, without compassion, inhumane, arrogant, dishonest, contradictory, not funny, has an arguing technique that compares closely to “I know you are, but what am I?”, wears red leather miniskirts and is just plain fucking wrong. I cannot even quote her because everything she says is too awful for me to write. All this and she isn’t even hot. If you are going to be wrong, at least be hot. I am guilty of some of the biases that Ann is, but in reverse. My prejudice and hatred of the establishment, the judicial system, anti- abortionists, racism, misogyny, the integration of church and state – can spiral downwards out of control, and maybe my facts could be discounted and I could be called a liar as well. But I don’t give a shit, because at least I am hot. I know I may not be traditionally pretty, but playas line up around the block to make some time with me, and they aren’t even getting it right then. The line is just for the wristband, yo. The hotness is not about age, looks, body type, race – it is about honesty, knowing who you are and being who you are, without trying to front like you are better than you are. It is about the down deep authenticity of self, then living it, loving it and looking it.
If Ann were hot, then I could excuse some of her behavior. She only goes to the safe end of her sex appeal, ever so slightly, flossing a North Beach leather mini with her long legs and crazy anorexic body. If she had some integrity, she would go get some straight up phat silicone titties, and part her blonde hair in the middle, take two Velcro rollers and make those stripper forehead curls that make the boys say “Whassup Shorty!!” If she had blonder, bigger hair, that would certainly add credibility to her conservative politics and her robotic upper class bigot never-had-any-shit-come-down-on-them-like-a-hard-rain-so-why-should-they-care-about-anyone-but-themselves values. She cannot spit her ignorant angry rhymes successfully with that beige lawyer lipstick. Ann needs to get some Revlon’s Cherries in the Snow, the ho’s lipstick of choice. She is a ho in sheep’s clothing, and it is about time she told the truth, the ho truth, and nothing but the truth. There is nothing wrong with docking cock for the things you believe in, but don’t play the thinking man’s bombshell with me. Because she doesn’t think and she is not anywhere near being the bomb and I just wish that she could be detonated and explode. But the only way that she could blow up is to face the porn movie 70s dicksucking muzak and own up to her politico prostitution. I am a ho, for the people, and I love that, and I am proud, because I embrace my ho side, and never try to pretend like I know everything about everything because I don’t. I don’t have to front, because I actually care about people. I believe in equality for everyone. All I ask for is that. And it is not possible in the America we live in, for a million reasons. Ann being one of them. She won’t put ‘em on the glass, so she is not qualified to throw stones.