Blech

Where can you find a fantabulous defense of Ann Coulter like this?

I love Ann Coulter. Coulter shocks and offends, but underneath her offensiveness is a grain of truth that people cope with by critiquing her hair. Americans like comfort: comfort food, comfort shoes, comfort pundits to reinforce everything we already believe. Ann Coulter is not comfort. I love that she pisses people off. I love her outsized confidence, rare in females who've gone through puberty, which means she doesn't turn into a pile of stuttering mush when an interview turns to her body. I love the way her face flickers devilishly for just a second when an interviewer wraps his own noose--the joy tinged with a bit of sadness, as if to say, Oh what fun this is, but do you have to make it so easy?

…Coulter makes us cringe not when she lies, but when she says things we wish weren't true. Let's go to the tape. Asked to define the First Amendment: "An excuse for overweight women to dance in pasties and The New York Times to commit treason." Just completely terrible, I know. But I have to admit, I giggled--having recently covered a pro-choice rally where I interviewed a very nice young woman whose nipples were covered by naral stickers.

…And then there are the insults. Chris Matthews asked: "How do you know that Bill Clinton's gay?" Coulter, who had earlier said the former president had exhibited some "latent homosexuality," gestured casually from behind her sunglasses. "Ah, no, he may not be gay. But Al Gore? Total fag." OK, that one really is indefensible. Because gratuitous gay jokes have, um, no precedent in pop culture whatsoever. I admit it, I snickered. What can I say--her timing was great. (And yes, later, she conceded, "That's what we call in the writing business a joke.").

Why, The New Republic, of course!

It just goes on and on like that, until I wanted to vomit. In fact, I just might. In an envelope. Postmarked to The New Republic.

(Hat tip to Mannion, who’s still On Notice.)