April 28, 2013 - April 21, 2013
Dear Mzzzzz. Dowd;
I finally read your Sunday column. Didn't see it sooner because I only saw it in the Featured sidebar on Google News yesterday morning. Like all sensible readers, I don't seek out Maureen Dowd columns. Life comes front-loaded with enough retardation as it is.
But your title got my attention: "Have You No Shame, Rush?" I've been following the latest Rush Limbaugh controversy closely. I've been ¬fascinated by the stridently selective liberal narrative, and the utter self-confidence-- or is it lack of self-consciousness?-- with which it's been promulgated.
To hear you people (do you mind if I call you people "you people"? Good.) tell it, there's no question what Rush did and what the moral person's reaction to it should be, nor is there any question as to the character of Sandra Fluke or the factual and ethical validity of her testimony that provoked Limbaugh's comments. The science, so to speak, is settled.
My mentor thinks the contraception flap is a distraction. In the long term, he's right. In the short term, I think there's something to learn from it, or at least remember. I think your column, specifically, is the reminder.
I know a prestigious columnist like you holds her work to the highest standard. Reading your column, I noticed a few... inaccuracies you may want to correct or retract. A few inconsistencies in your narrative you may have completely innocently overlooked, with absolutely no malfeasance intended whatever in the slightest to any degree.
In this letter, I'll include about twice as many line breaks as real paragraphs would call for. Figure I'll try to speak to you in a language you'll understand. As far as understanding is possible for you.
No, no, no, stupid bitch. Do you mind if I call you "stupid bitch"? Awesome.
Rush called Sandra Fluke a prostitute because she wants to be paid to have sex. On top of that (pardon the pun), she thinks she's ENTITLED to be paid to have sex. Even if it takes the government to force someone to pay involuntarily.
That makes her not only a prostitute, but worse-- a thief. Poise and wholesome looks don't justify theft advocacy, Ms. Dowd.
Right away, you've botched a few facts that were not difficult to understand correctly¬. Therefore, you are either a) too stupid to understand them, or b) pretending to be stupid to make a stupid point.
I lean towards option b). Which doesn't exclude option a) entirely. To want to make stupid points, one has to be at least a little stupid.
You admit you understand the actual crux of Limbaugh's argument in paragraph 8: "Limbaugh leeringly suggested that were taxpayers to be stuck with the bill..." And since, unlike most of your fellow pundits, you seem to have read Limbaugh's actual comments, you know he recanted the "slut" comment moments after he made it. His exact goddamn words: "OK, so she’s not a slut."
The very next sentence is when he said "round-heeled," so you must have read the retraction. You can't be so stupid that you couldn't retain the information in your mind. A goldfish has better reading comprehension than that.
Here's what you did. You thought you had a juicy chance to hue and cry at the wickedness of a particularly reviled political opponent. Some of the facts added up to a lovely indictment. Other facts got in the way of your fun. Those facts are nowhere to be seen in your faux-authoritative history.
What I want to know is this: Do you know you're leaving out the parts you don't like? Or, having done it for so long, does your brain filter them out automatically? Not that it matters in the long run. I'm just morbidly curious. Do inconvenient facts reach your conscious awareness?
It's a lot like another lie you people love to tell. It should go without saying, but sadly can't, that there was no real "leering" in Rush's quip. The man was speaking facetiously. Duh. DUH. No leftist villainy is so transparent as when, to maintain a pretense of outrage, you people pretend not to recognize jocularity.
But do you know you're pretending?
On some level, you must know. Contrast this next paragraph with the first I quoted. At first, you pretended not to understand Limbaugh's argument. Here, you admit you understand it, but try to debunk it. There's an old quote about cake that applies here.
I've read Rush's quote literally ten times. He never mentioned pills, sweetie. Not once. Only to the quote in your imagination was that a witty riposte. The quote you wish he'd said.
I understand you writing something this stupid, but how did it get past your editor? How was this published? Doesn't the New York Times have a reputation to uphold? Of some sort?
How does your career exist?
As long as I personally am not being stolen from, I ought to have no problem with it? I'm thinking of another quote, this one from Martin Luther King: "Injustice anywhere else but here is someone else's problem." I know it goes something like that.
All elements of the liberal narrative of this controversy have been discredited (can't stress that enough), but none more than Fluke's $1,000 figure. NRO and Alexa Shrugged, as well as anyone who's managed to pay for their own birth control without first- or third-party theft, have conclusively debunked this nonsense.
For the sake of argument, let's break this down. On average, abortions run about 300 bucks a pop. How many abortions a year can a woman safely have?
I kid. Pardon the pun.
And in what fantasy world do men never buy their own condoms? Same fantasy world where Rush mentioned pills?
I'm tempted to cite the many, many instances of liberal hypocrisy on this issue. I'd bring up incidents like Olbermann calling Michelle Malkin a mashed-up bag of meat with lipstick and Ed Schultz calling Laura Ingram a-- hey, what do you know-- slut, and Montell Williams asking Michelle Bachman to kill herself. But there's no point.
In an essay almost as old as the Constitution itself, my mentor provided the key to all liberal critical thought. Reviewing Al Franken's book The Truth, Robert Laird cracked the code of liberal hypocrisy.
Again, I've kindly chopped up the original adult-length paragraphs into newspaper column size. No need to thank me.
This is how, for example your colleague Paul Krugman can blame general Republican "hate" for the shooting of Gabby Giffords and call for a civility, then only a month later basically call for war against Republicans. It's how blame for the shooting could be laid at Sarah Palin's feet for a graphic that depicted a target on Giffords' district, while almost identical MoveOn and Daily Kos graphics received no criticism at all from the left.
And it's why, in the liberal mind, no abuse is out of bounds when aimed at conservative women.
Every right-leaning outlet took great pains to document the hypocrisy at play, as though it would spark some shame or even recognition in the left. I took some of those pains myself. And liberal self-regard didn't take a single dent.
But a lack of conscience is, at bottom, a lack of awareness. That's your weakness.
We not only know what you do, but how you do it, and why you do it. We not only know that you're sick, but how you're sick.
We know where you can't bear to look. That's where we'll be. That's where we'll strike.
I'm telling you this because it won't do you any good. Your politics are purely a function of fashion. They are accoutrement, no different than a necklace or an arm full of gold bracelets. To perceive any more of the real world than you do now would require dangerous critical self-reflection, as well as a focus on the external would that would take away time from contemplating all the great things about Maureen Dowd.
In closing, I'd like to point out that you are very old and physically unappealing, and that your twat flaps like the mouth of a balloon when you let it go without tying it, and everyone knows it.
Cheap and vulgar? You bet your wrinkled old ass. But I'll never be so cheap and so vulgar that I try to hide my cheapness or my vulgarity.
Sincerely, go fuck yourself.
P.S. Tell you what. You stop acting like a stupid bitch, I'll stop calling you a stupid bitch. Happily.
But I'm not waiting by the phone for that call.
. Here's what Mediaite
This is the same Imus who was a cokehead alcoholic and the tone-deaf
idiot who called the Rutgers women's basketball team "nappy-headed
ho's." Against all odds, he came back from that, which was by no means
his only sin:
But his supposedly new, cleaned-up act isn't funny anymore, as I've
been pointing out for quite a while now, most explicitly here:
And more recently, here:
The show can't be helping the fledgling Fox Business Network at this
point. Imus is just mean senile these days. He talks constantly about
his own failing health, invites his various doctors on as guests, and
more and more his nutjob wife, who rants about organic food the way
Imus rants about his prostate cancer and his hair. He has a small
population of guests, scheduled in such rigid fashion that the adept
know, for example, to avoid the first hour of Monday mornings because
old Bo Dietl
is always there doing his numbingly tired impersonation of long-dead
Crosby. The two in-house comics do their own repetitive
impersonations of celebrities old, older, and dead -- ranging from
Larry King to Jesse Jackson, Charles Rangel, the weeping (when was that
last funny?) John Boehner, Fat Elvis, and (yes) Fat Limbaugh. Imus's
own patter is equally moribund. He repeats his half-assed political
views almost daily, each time as if it were the first time -- "I like
Obama. He's a brilliant man. He's just not a good president." "I
support gay marriage. I'm an ordained minister and I have two gay
friends I'm going to preside over their wedding someday." "Newt
Gingrich is a disgusting fat creep, a worthless human being." "Rich
Santorum is a disgusting phony." "Sarah Palin is an idiot." "Michelle
Bachmann is an idiot." "Herman Cain is..."
His musical pontifications are just as drearily repetitive. He likes just two genres -- country and old-time black blues. He's more tiresome about the latter than the former, because when he's in blues mode, he makes it clear that no white performer has the rhythm or timing to be worth listening to. Until one of his country idols, say, Delbert McClinton, appears on the show. Which is oddly similar to the way he can kiss ass equally with his tiny coterie of left-wing and right-wing political guests. He sees no contradictions. Because he's a malignant narcissist? Yes. Because he's declining into senile dementia? Yes.
He's absent from the studio for large stretches of time, including all summer and every even slightly recognized holiday, so that the schedule for the Imus show just barely outnumbers the schedule for the "Best of Imus" fill-ins.
It really is time for a petition to the Fox Business Network. I'm serious. He may have given them a ratings boost for a time when they needed one, but now he's just poisoning the well. I'd much rather see a FBN morning show featuring Dagen McDowell, Connell McShane, Charles Payne, and Eric Bolling than Imus -- or for that matter, Fox & Friends.
America needs a smart and clever morning show. It doesn't have one. But it has the possibility of one. If Imus can be sent to the oblivion where he belongs.
. Two weeks was not enough notice to secure the company of
my oh-so-American daughter on St. Patrick's Day. Is anybody else
getting tired of the "We're all Irish on St. Patrick's Day"
hallucination? My wife is Irish on St. Patrick's Day -- and every other
day besides. Most of the rest of you? Not so much. You're no more Irish
than you are Scottish.
Hmmmm. Well, there's an idea. I'm Scottish. I go along with the St. Patrick's Day malarkey because I'm a good sport and besides there's no St. Andrew's Day, is there?
uh, yeah. There is. But I'm not going to get all fuzzy and sentimental about this. I want to promote an American St. Andrew's Day because I want to spend it with my daughter. The day is November 30. I'm thinking that's enough notice, even for a certified babe like Monica.
Here's how St. Andrew's Day will unfold when it finally gets the recognition it deserves. People all over the country will get on a bus and hopscotch the Scottish restaurants that dot the land, sampling haggis recipes and single malt scotch distilleries for a half hour or until they pass out.
Oh. Well, KFC is good, uh better than good really, and then the bus can go to the Angus Cinema in Hoboken, where there's a continuous run of Tunes of Glory, Braveheart, and, uh, Tunes of Glory. You know. Scottish filmic masterpieces. All of them. Plenty of popcorn and our famous bottom shelf scotch, which doesn't taste good but leaves you with a deadly Scottish hangover. In other word, it's all good.
THEN we go to funerals. What Scots do best. Police. Fire. Military. Why we invented bagpipes. Kilts and somnolent, lugubrious eyes. Who needs restaurants and singing and celebration when your eyes know the knowledge of death by sword, fire, and other peculiar forms of English slaughter?
And afterwards, back to that dark place in the woods, where there's more scotch and the music of crickets and the wailing wind and nothing to still the soul but the memory of the English and the need for blood and the merest possibility of a scheme for money.
If you're a Scot, money is good. But not as good as blood or rampaging domination of
everyone everywhere. Why the greatest cathedral on earth specializes in
the abject humiliation of all supplicants.
The only cathedral, actually, that charges and makes money openly for a
religious experience guaranteed to make you certain that God hates you
and won't ever let you out of the bunker you were born to. So St.
Andrew's Day has always to end with golf. At night. With cheap clubs
and more balls than brains.
Happy St. Andrew's Day. You're bound to love it more than that green shite. They love the environment. We are the environment. Shite.
How about it, Monica? Do we have a date?
P.S. My wife, despite being Irish, has a soft spot for my Scottish roots, and she suggests that I might have inadvertently done a disservice to the cause of St. Andrew's Day by seeming to stress the mercenary nature of my people at the expense of their more soulful nature. Which is more soulful than mercenary. Well, you should hear her explain it. It's very convincing the way she puts it. Golden Irish tongues, don't you know. Why she criticized me for not quoting from the Wiki entry on St. Andrew's Day. I "failed to persuade." Apparently, my version detracts from the well of mythic lore the Scottish people have built up over the aeons about this magical day, and I should just get out of the way and let my tribe speak for itself. Okay. What Scots do for St. Andrew's Day. Behold the majestic tradition:
Cool. A free holiday. Now we just have to goose it up a bit. I think my
wife is on the right track. Don't you? We Scots can be as cool as the
Irish, right? Are you feeling the vibe? I knew you would. Cool. Can't
wait for November 30. It's going to be so cool. Right?
February and the beginning of March. Never been good times for
me. If I'm going to be sick or depressed or misanthropic, this is when.
The sun is always pale and without warmth or life. The soil is
dead. It's the annual equivalent of three o'clock in the morning,
the hour when hope succumbs to fear and dread.
I thought it was just me. Right now, it seems to be the whole conservative constituency. George Will has given up already on winning the presidency. Rush Limbaugh has made a tactical retreat from an excellent truth. One of our foremost champions is suddenly dead. The skewed, made up polls showing Obama as favored for reelection continue to flow from every corrupt vein of the MSM, including Fox News, which seems equally dedicated to demonstrating conservative illiteracy in a constant bleed from the zippers written by its Bible college interns who can't spell, read, or understand anything. While a former weatherman conducts interviews with political newsmakers and responds to their responses with "exactly" and "absolutely," as if he has been somehow entrusted with passing judgment on what right-thinking people say. And the Fox News equivalent of Christiane Ammanpour, who shows up everywhere around the world with her revealed truth, is the weatherman's son, who graduated from Villanova two weeks ago. Rick Santorum talks about wanting to throw up. He doesn't know the half of it.
They ALL want us to lose. Even our so-called allies.The most important and pernicious part of the fabric called 24/7 news is its nowness. Something happened today. The vultures of right and left will descend to tear into the carcass of today because every carcass is like every other carcass, something to be chewed and digested and regurgitated as if all dead bodies everywhere are always the same. We can masticate it all equally, deliberately, rationally, cleverly, insightfully, and never mind the stink.
24/7 hides time itself. 2012 is vastly different from 2008. Our country is plummeting like a rock. Four years ago, millions upon millions of people were not demanding to be bailed out of every unfortunate happenstance they encountered. Now there is no unfortunate happenstance that does not incite a demand for a bailout. Limbaugh was right. If you can't afford to pay for your own sex life and think the taxpayers owe you a bailout simply because you have appetites you don't choose to moderate, you are a kind of prostitute and the United States is dead. If the MSM can seriously pretend that this economy is turning around when effectively 15 percent of us are unemployed and that that somehow favors Democrats because there are more lower income people now who appreciate government largesse, the people have become parasites and the United States is dead.
Stop. Imagine that someone had told you this would be the national discussion four years ago. You would have laughed.
How far we have fallen.
What happens when there is no president. Dozens of people died yesterday in tornadoes in the midwest. Is Barack Obama there? No. Is the MSM asking why not? No. Not his job. Nobody expects it anymore. Anymore than they expect him to stop the ongoing implosion of the middle east, whose barbarian hordes are disintegrating into an Armageddon the United States once held valorously at bay. What's different? The United States is playing golf and celebrity venues. While the world burns. The leftist dream. When all prosperity dies, we can all share equally in the misery of social justice -- knives, bombs, rapes, murders, and perfect moral relativism. And a leader with a Mussolini jaw. They didn't vet him four years ago, and four years in, they atill aren't. It's criminal. But infinitely worse in 2012 than in 2008. Who the fuck is this guy? They owe us an answer to that question and it has never once occurred to them that it's their journalistic responsibility to answer that question. There is no longer any such thing thing as a profession of journalism in the United States. Another reason the United States is dead.
But spring is coming. I haven't been watching the news, not even Fox News Sunday. I hate all the Republican candidates. I'd tell that to any pollster who called. But when November comes, well, that's what I'm waiting for. I don't care if Romney is a phony. I don't care if Gingrich is a beast. I don't care if Santorum is a nut. I will get to the polls if I have to crawl there on my hands and knees. To vote this idiot pipsqueak out of office.
I don't care how ugly it gets. And it will get incomprehensibly ugly.
In the interim, you can keep all your punditry and polls and pontifications. I know I'm not alone. The smart ones are all talking, talking, talking, as if it mattered. I'm just waiting.
To cast my vote against the man who would not be president.
That's when winter ends.