But just because Rob has a slight acquaintance with the world beyond the right wing bubble does not mean he is immune to its strange fevers and dark passions. Witness this sonnet he's cranked out in praise of Ann Coulter's feminine charms:
Had she been born a century ago......it would explain those missing co-eds and that brownish-red ring around her bathtub.
...And Max Schrek would have been shining shoes outside the UFA commissary. would have been a movie star.
She’s got movie star eyes:Three, in fact. One belonged to Sammy Davis, Jr., one to Sandy Duncan, and the third was acquired by Ann in 1997, when she rolled a drunken Peter Falk outside Musso & Franks. Friends have advised her to take up a less gruesome hobby, like collecting Troll Dolls, or scrapbooking.
They’re big and round and they lock onto you with the intensity and fire that silver nitrate film was invented for.Unfortunately, they're equally as volatile, and during a visit with her parents to the MGM lot in 1967, Ann's eyes caught fire in the film vault, burning the Technicolor scenes from Broadway Melody, the Three Stooges musical short, Hello, Pop!, several silent Our Gang comedies, and the camera negative of London After Midnight.
And she’s got a movie star laugh:Specifically, Eddie Deezen's.
It’s full and round and loud when she wants it to be, and she almost always wants it to be.This also describes her attitude toward Jonah Goldberg's ass.
But more than her starlet eyes and her ravishing laugh, Ann Coulter is having fun. She loves being the unsinkable, unapologetic Ann Coulter.I never really thought of Ann Coulter as a refugee from the Golden Age of Hollywood -- a latter day Veronica Lake, perhaps, or -- with her puckish sense of wit and whimsy -- a modern Carole Lombard, or Skelton Knaggs. But perhaps Rob was inspired by his own resemblance to Thomas Mitchell's eyebrows.
And that drives the left around the bend, which is reason enough to list Ann as one of the nation’s top conservatives, let alone top female conservatives.Because as Socrates said, "It's not the quality of your argument that will carry the day, but how big a snot you can be while making it."
We already know the basics: Ann is a dazzlingly gifted polemicist. She’s a scary-smart writer—I may not agree with your politics, Rob, but even I've got to admit -- when you're half-right, you're half-right.
readers of her latest book, Demonic: How the Liberal Mob is Endangering America will have noticed a new level of power and philosophy in her writing.The title, along with the black candles and blood-stained goat skull in her living room, hint at the source of Ann's increased powers. Therefore, Unbeliever, beware when you crack her tome, for it is full of the deadliest philosophy, and has been known to kill with a single syllogism.
On television, where we all (sadly) get increasingly more of our information, Ann Coulter is a dervish of debate and verbal smarts: Ann never backs down, never shrugs a question and, what’s more, alone among the pundits (left and right) she’s never weasel-worded an answer.Ann Coulter: glamorous movie star. Sufi ascetic.
This gets her into trouble—there are protests in the universities, outrage in the left-wing press, and general bafflement among the smug media courtesans. How could this blonde she-devil capture so many readers? How can this troublemaking, outspoken lady, clad in her chic little dresses and glamour-girl shoes, be so popular?If by "popular" you mean "continues to be stocked in Dollar Stores long after her Sell By date has passed and the button has popped up on her lid," then yes. It's a mystery.
Ann is our powerhouse, our Patton."Coulter...You magnificent bastard! I didn't read your book! But I understand it's being given away free with a subscription to Human Events..."
Ann marches in front of our parade with a fearless wit, and in sexy heels, too.You're really fixated on her feet, Rob. I'm no dating and romance expert, but I assume the next stage of your relationship will involve you sneaking into her bedroom during a cocktail party and trying on her fuck-me pumps. Best of luck to you crazy kids! and bring a shoehorn.