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More Coulter Bashing From Our Free Press

From the once reputable newspaper, the Chicago Tribune:

 

Taking a bath with Ann Coulter

Charles M. Madigan

June 27, 2006

I am visiting Ann Coulter.

Not the real Ann Coulter, with her blond hair and fetching little black cocktail dress, but her Web site. She’s pretty blunt.

Former President Bill Clinton was a rapist, she argues. U.S. Sen. Hillary Clinton has fat legs. The unfair MSM (mainstream media) viciously chop at decent conservatives.

I don’t care about any of that, and her themes have changed by now anyhow.

She notes that if she hasn’t offended you just yet, wait. She’s working as fast as she can.

She is pumping her new book, but I am not. See? No title here.

My question is where should I put Ann Coulter in my treasure chest of political figures?

Everything needs its place. William F. Buckley is on a pedestal for his smarts. Such an eloquent man deserves honors, whether one agrees with him or not. He is a hero to me, although we disagree on many things, but not on the beauty of sentences.

What are we to do with this outrageous woman, who has the eloquence of, say, a roofer on a really bad day?

She is despised by many. That is unfair. She is just doing business by being hyperbolic, which is her job description.

She has become the commentary equivalent of a great belly dancer at a men’s smoker. The harder she works it, the more dollars get stuffed here and there.

Perhaps she has no brain-mouth regulator, the little device that keeps most dark thoughts unexpressed.

Or, perhaps she is like an egomaniacal kid-party clown, but with a screw loose.

One balloon wiener dog is not enough. She feels she can twist up an entire Noah’s ark of balloon animals. Before you know it, she’s on "America’s Craziest Clowns" scaring kids with her realistic boa constrictor digesting a balloon-shaped pig that looks like Franklin D. Roosevelt.

On Coulter’s part, I think this hyperbole is brilliant.

I don’t really think she’s nuts, but she sure is playing crazy for her loving audience, which expects it of her. It is, I suspect, a stunt.

She is important in my life.

Because of her, I now know exactly where the right wing stops.

A couple of clicks beyond Coulter on the political scale and you are in a land full of biting reptiles, spiders, peasants with torches and survivalists.

She is a bit like Michael Moore on the left, except he is about 10 times her size, not even vaguely pretty and looks like he could use a danged good scrub.

A couple of clicks beyond him on the left?

People with petitions, righteous rhetoric, rusty 190DL Volvo wagons, wine, cheeses, debates about how Marx (Karl not Groucho) was right on some things.

They won’t take "yes" for an answer and could break in to folk music at any minute.

How could Moore and Coulter be the same thing, then?

Oh, sweet reader, in our beloved, confused country, extremes have become so comfortable that gobs of otherwise sensible, fine folks just slip on over to the left or right and splash right in the ideological bathtub.

It would be fun in Coulter’s bathtub because everything would be so certain.

Here is the water. Here is the soap. Here is the bile. Here is the enemy.

("Do NOT touch my feet with your feet," she would say.)

Exactly the same thing holds true for the filmmaker Moore, but there wouldn’t be as much room in Moore’s tub and maybe just feet would fit in there, probably a blessing.

In a more repressive place, Coulter and Moore would be fabulous in the Ministry of Propaganda, pumping out grist for the mills of hyperbole.

As it is, they are merely iconic to their followers.

I read all about her book and what she had to say, just as I followed Michael Moore’s assessment of American politics during the last presidential campaign.

I’m looking for a model to understand what these characters are about.

I have concluded it’s the hyperbolic, grown-up version of the Howdy Doody show, with the particulars in the role of a mutated, very mean-spirited, politicized Buffalo Bob Smith, the host.

One of the key elements of the show was the peanut gallery, kids sitting on risers who reacted so you would know what was funny in Howdy’s world.

"Hey kids, what time is it?" Buffalo Bob would shout.

"It’s Howdy Doody time!" the peanut gallery would respond.

Same thing here, but Howdy Doody was one sweet puppet.

On the left and right extremes of American politics, it’s the adoring audience that’s the puppet.

The character who is Ann Coulter pulls the strings.

The puppets respond with money.

Mind you, this gentleman is paid for his brilliant insights and trenchant analysis.

Among the subtle differences he failed to discern between Ann Coulter and Michael Moore is that Michael Moore is a notorious liar who purposefully presents disinformation as facts. (He is facing at  multi-million dollar lawsuit for this little peccadillo.)

Whereas Ms. Coulter has never written anything of significance that was found to be in error — let alone a deliberate falsehood.

Oh, and another minor distinction, Michael Moore hates this country.

A poster at Free Republic says he took the time to email Mr. Madigan with some questions. Here is his email:

From: TC Rider
Sent: Tue 6/27/2006 12:54 PM
To: Madigan, Charles
Subject: Coulter

You sir, have a bad case of Venus Envy.

It appears from what you wrote that you haven’t read Coulter’s book, proving once again her theory that liberals don’t wish to debate issues or policy, just attack the messengers.

The larger difference between her and Moore, is that she researches and backs up her writing with facts, and footnotes. Moore tends to just make it up.

TC Rider

And here is what he says was Mr. Madigan’s thoughtful reply:

Subject: RE: Coulter
Date: Wed, 28 Jun 2006 08:34:05 -0500
From: "Madigan, Charles"
To: "TC Rider"

venus envy? very clever. lets go cut her arms off and that will stop all this. setting aside the argument about issues, the woman looks as though she has a budding eating disorder and should get some help.

her arms, tiny for such a tall person. i would just feed her cheese burgers until she swells up a bit and then i might say, "pretty, in a it’s late at night in the holiday inn bar and there’s no one left to talk to" kind of way.

madigan

This is a photo of the gentleman who is mocking Ms. Coulter’s appearance, from his own column:

Charlie Madigan — "The Rambling Gleaner"

One suspects the only thing "Charlie" would have to say in a late night at the holiday inn bar would be "hello, sailor!"

This article was posted by Steve on Wednesday, June 28th, 2006. Comments are currently closed.

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