Bonfire of the Valkyries!

"At last I can quit living a lie, you're right Miss Coulter - losing my husband was the best thing that's ever happened to me. Thanks a bunch."

The first thing that crossed what's left of my mind this morning was that I wanted to take a crack at taking the piss out of this Ann Coulter broad. The great Valkyrie of the ultra conservative reactionary right – pundit, author, moralist, TV personality - the chick making out with Condee Rice when GW has to fantasize about something in order to get it up and in Laura's Bush.

I thought I'd pop by Coulter's official website just to get some material to work with, but I didn't get any further than her photo journal. There's one shot in her pornfolio that depicts her sitting on the back porch of a cabin in a tee shirt and panties shooting a rifle. Undoubtedly the image Charlton Heston uses when he needs that last little nudge to get Moses' staff pointed toward the heavens, "Let My Penis Grow!" Come on I got y there, huh? "Anne Coulter half naked shooting a rifle, Anne Coulter half naked shooting a rifle, Anne Coulter half naked shooting a rifle, Anne Coulter half naked shooting a rifle," the official NRA Masturbatory Mantra.

It must be a little weird to be so closely associated with such a beloved Biblical figure. Being Moses, to so many, has got to fuck with ya, - how could you ever loosen up? Think of poor Chucky back in the "free love" days of the sixties? Groupies draped all over him – I just can't help but envision a scenario where Chuck has a sudden moral crisis, "Rainbow, Sky, Moon! thanks so much ladies, but I'm gonna have to ask you to remove your Benwa balls from my rectum and leave – no, no no it's nothing personal Sky, I love your red hair – it's just that, well . . . one time I was in this movie where I did this . . . miracle thing, and I just start feeling all guilty. Then again, I guess we could just turn off the lights – (chin in hand as he mulls his unique dilemma) "What the hey, come on back to big Chucky's harem of love and let's just do what feels good. Oh God, yes – yes God – you are naughty, naughty girls, Oh God yes you are . . . did one of you light some incense?" "Yea Chucky I just got it, it's sage – isn't it the grooviest?" You're burning sage . . . SAGE? Get out – out of my house, you damn filthy apes, GET OUT!"

What a nice little segue into "Godless." Anne Coulter has cast herself in the role of the burning bush – handing down her harsh judgment upon the shabby state of the collective liberal soul. Justice is Blonde. The real tinderbox is her rather reckless contention that several of the 911 Widows (sic) "The Witches of Brunswick," are now millionaires as a result of compensation settlements and are "reveling in their status as celebrities and stalked by grief-arazzis." "I've never seen people enjoying their husbands' deaths so much." Goodness Ann? By reading a paragraph of this shit you might have noticed that I'm not particularly easy to offend, and regardless whether there might be a quark of truth to be found in this cockeyed contention, that's still a patently fucked up thing to suggest and only a complete jackass would commit it to print, much less publish it.

She wants us all to think she's got balls, tellin' it like it is, damn the torpedoes – Guess what Ann, no one would give a democ-rats ass about anything you have to say if you weren't a thin, leggy blonde who's passably pretty in the right light. You have to wonder if she looked like Al Franken in a wig if she could give away her Godless damn book.

Sorry Pops - my old man is nuts for Coulter, then again he's nuts for Diana Krall. I'm starting to sense a pattern.