One Woman’s Confession: I HATE SUBURBIA (Sep, 1965)
a little piece written in 1965.
Something to think about:
A study in The Lancet this week finds that the World Health Organization is unlikely to meet its goal of eliminating measles in the European region by 2010 because vaccination rates in many countries, including Germany, the UK and Italy, are too low to stop the spread of the virus (DOI: 10.1016/S0140-6736(08)61849-8).
In contrast, Latin America eliminated measles in 2002, but has since suffered outbreaks “imported” from Europe. While measles rarely kills in Europe, in poorer countries malnutrition and limited healthcare make the virus far more lethal, warns Jacques Kremer of Luxembourg’s National Health Institute in an accompanying editorial.
From New Scientist
Can’t disagree with the Rude Pundit, Cooper said something similar a few days ago in tab dumping commentary, but in a nicer way. I like the rude approach.
1. Because fuck her.
2. Because a couple of years ago, when the Rude Pundit had been on the case in exposing Coulter’s obvious plagiarism in her previous “book,” he was approached by a small-but-well-regarded press to work on a book about Coulter’s life in the hopes of revealing something to discredit her. The Rude Pundit was even going to work with a Well-Known Journalist on the project. He wrote a proposal for his approach to the thing, which involved lots of travel and research. But something gnawed at him, so he bailed on the damn thing. It was this simple: life’s too fucking short to waste a couple of years of it stalking some Aryan whore just to prove that she’s obviously a liar. And a whore. The same goes for the hour or so it would take to read her new “book.”
3. Because it’s not really what we would call a “book.” No, it’s just a series of subhuman grunts and yowls from a right-wing dye-job cunt who trolls the internet looking for anything tangentially-related to whatever point she’s barely making so she can cut and paste it, all the while Joe McCarthy’s ghost finger fucks her, Father Coughlin’s gives her a rim job, and Anita Bryant’s sits on her face and wriggles. Such tomes, typed by gnarled, nervous fingers while the typist is reamed by damned spirits, need not be recognized as worthy of discussion.
4. Because, slightly more realistically, the “book” is probably cobbled together by assistants and editors from scribbled notes and transcribed Scotch-infused midnight phone calls.
5. Because, even if you pointed out that everything in the book is a lie, even if you pointed out that her footnoted sources don’t support her, even if you pointed out that large chunks of her “research” are unsourced assertions, even if you pointed out that even larger chunks are just copied from someone else, her publisher won’t care because she sells, bitches, she sells.
The rest, as true and heartfelt, can be found at Why the Rude Pundit Will Not Be Writing About Ann Coulter’s New Book