Ladies and gentlemen, there are times when even the hardiest of us have a hard time swallowing the latest serving of codswallop from the likes of Michelle Malkin and Ann Althouse.  It becomes a species of pain to read what they're saying on a daily basis, given that (in the words of Unfogged's Apostropher) Malkin and her ilk are "utterly incapable of feeling silly in the same way that fish are incapable of feeling wet". 

Reading their daily output is akin to watching your spinster aunt get all liquored up and start humping the thighs of strange businessmen in an airport bar.  If it weren't so unspeakably pathetic and sad, it would be hilarious.  But after a while, you feel like you owe it to the poor girl to cut her off at the bar and drag her to her departure gate and hope she manages not to injure herself (or anyone else) during the flight.

Well, La Althouse has hacked up another craptastic chunk of nonsensical dreck that I should probably just walk away from (I hear you all out there saying, "Just say NO, TRex!  Don't give in!") and yet as I find myself staring into the circular logic of Ms. Althouse and the void at the center of her thinking, I find myself feeling…hypnotized.

Fortunately, I have my new best friend Amy Winehouse and her song, "Me and Mr. Jones" to go with me into the Land of Althousia, where Thought Goes to Die.  It seems only fitting.  Winehouse vs. Althouse; the sublimely talented versus the spectacularly mediocre. 

Amy?  Will you lead us off?

Me and Mr. Jones 

Nobody stands in between me and my man, it's me
and Mr Jones (Me and Mr Jones)

What kind of fuckery is this?

I think that may be the most pertinent question of 2007. "Fuckery", indeed. Whether it's Karl Rove rapping or Ann Althouse vlogging, the world, these days, alas, is positively awash in fuckery.

It has now been six days since the Lesser Perfesser announced that she was going to say no more about her Bloggingheads-TV meltdown, and yet she has managed to mention it every single day since then.  She insists, however, that she has said all she had to say about that and about Jessica Valenti and the Clinton Blogger Lunch.  She's, like, over it.  Done.  Not talking about it anymore.

Except, you know, when she is:

Monday, April 02, 2007


I'm not trying to dredge up the old Bloggingheads thing…

Which is, you know, an old blogosphere flame war, but I see there's a transcription going around — of this notorious segment of the diavlog — that has a glaring error that is being used against me. I'm not going to link to any of the many blogs that are using this text, and I don't know what enterprising loser took the initiative to type it out, but it's perfectly easy to Google if you want to know who's purveying the defective text:

Don't you just love when people tell you they're not trying to do exactly what they're doing?  Like when people say, "I'm not trying to be an asshole, but…" and then inevitably follow it up with something so inherently asshole-ish that you want to kick them in the face?  Or when someone says, "I'm not trying to get into your business, but I think that you should break up with your boyfriend, quit your job, get a better haircut, knock off this stupid blogging thing, get some better clothes, then sell everything you can't carry, and move to Costa Rica."

Thanks so much for staying out of my business, there, Sparky.  You want I should take up belly-dancing as well?  

You made me miss the Slick Rick gig (oh Slick Rick)
You thought I didn't love you when I did (when I did)
Can't believe you played me out like that (Ahhh)

No you aint worth guest list
Plus one of all them girls you kiss (all them girls)
You can't keep lying to yourself like this (to yourself)
Can't believe you played yourself (out) like this

Yes, was it only in the Halcyon Days of, uh, less than a week ago that Anodyne Outhouse suggested that she was going to keep mum about her issues with younger, more attractive women, her persistent symptoms of CDS (Clinton Derangement Syndrome), and her Sisyphean task of being consistently petty, spiteful, shallow, and narcissistic while pleading with the online left to take her seriously?

There is some good news, though.

But let me admit something. I do think they have the motive to try to destroy me, and I can see why the left treats me nastily — unlike the right — even though I share their opinion on practically all the key issues (except national security).

"Destroy" you, Ann?  Don't be silly.  We're just assisting you in your apparent kamikaze mission to vaporize your shoddy credibility.  Any time I think I've come up with a truly unsurpassed way to make you look ridiculous, you go and get sloshed on red wine and vlog yourself watching "American Idol".  And how, I pray, HOW is one supposed to top that?

I have obviously disaggregated myself from the fortunes of the Democratic Party. 

Whoo-hoo!  Answered prayers!  Actually, I think you "disaggregated" yourself from the Democrats when you voted for George Bush in 2004.  And (by your own admission), you only did that because you were angry and resentful of the liberal community in your town.  Way to put the needs of the nation above your own petty resentments, you silly cow!

But, as we are about to demonstrate, Miz Althouse is veritably defined by her resentments.  She is neither liberal nor conservative, but the opposite of whoever has most recently stepped on her feelings of self-importance and triggered her Alma Martyr reflex. 

Rulers one thing but come Brixton
Nobody stands in between me and my man

'Cause it's me and Mr Jones (Me and Mr Jones)

What kind of fuckery are we?
Nowadays you don't mean dick to me (dick to me)

I will say what I have to say without trying to protect the party's interests. That's dangerous to them, and they should be afraid for me to have clout in the blogosphere. They have reason to portray me as crazy, stupid, drunk, or whatever the latest attack is. They should worry. And, as I say in the video, I will stand my ground.

Oh, yeah, Ann.  We are shivering in our boots.  We are TERRIFIED of what you'll say about us next.  Which is why none of us ever write about you or make any allusions whatsover to your stupid blog.

Honey, let me break this to you gently.  You're a big hit in the liberal blogosphere BECAUSE you're "crazy, stupid, drunk, or whatever" and without those things, you'd be utterly unremarkable.  So don't go changing, baby girl.  We love you just the way you are. 

I might let you make it up to me (make it up)
Who's playing Saturday?

What kind of fuckery are you?
Side from Sammy you're my best black Jew
But I could swear that we were through (we were through)
I still want to wonder 'bout the things you do

Mr Destiny 9 and 14
Nobody stands in between me and my man

But Perfessor Outhouse really gets her hatin' on when she starts in (AGAIN!) about Jessica Valenti's breasts.

Bill Clinton, apparently eager to influence bloggers to give his wife favorable coverage as she sought the presidency, sat down for a lunch and a photo shoot with a select group of them. They ate up the lunch and the flattery it represented and posed looking thoroughly pleased. I think bloggers should maintain their independence and their critical stance, so I hated to read their gushing posts and to gaze on their shiny, happy faces in that photograph. I meant to be cruel to them.

Oooh, that's mature.  And so mentally healthy I could just eat a whole bottle of Paxil.

(If they are cruel to me, I concede that I started it and that I meant to be nasty. In that sense, I can't complain… except for effect.) 

And yet, she complains and complains and complains about how horrid we are to her.  So horrid that she doesn't even dare link to our posts for fear that it might damage the sensitive natures of her six readers.  Coward.

My cruelty took the form of trying to ruin the picture they thought was so nice by merging it with the idea of Monica Lewinsky. The last thing Bill Clinton wants as he offers his prestige to the cause of his wife's quest for power is for us to think about Monica Lewinsky.

So I called attention to the fact that Jessica Valenti, positioned right in front of Clinton, did look a bit like that woman, Miss Lewinsky.

She does not.  Only a Clenis-deranged, sex-obsessed, bitter old dowager like yourself would make that association, so stop trying to pretend that this was all somehow part of your plan.  You put something out there without thinking and you got smacked for it.  Then, rather than admit your mistake, you escalated, which only made the spectacle worse and made you look like more of a disgrace.

I thought the photograph was set up in a way that was detrimental to the Clintons' interests, and I thought that was funny and that it presented an opportunity for some painful satire.

Sugar, your satire is painful, alright.  Just not in the way I think you intend.  (I'm sharing that as a public service, by the way.)

I made it quite nasty, and I did it deliberately. I'm not sorry I did it. I mean to castigate feminists and so-called feminists who cozy up to Clinton. They were surely justified in fighting back at me, and I can understand why they want to ruin me.

Oh, Ann.  In our wildest dreams we could never do half the damage to your reputation that you do all by yourself.  In fact, you're soaking in it right now.

But I did achieve my goal and ruin the photograph. You've got to admit that you cannot look at it the way the shiny, happy posers meant you to. The photograph is — as they say — reframed. If I must suffer for that achievement — which I sought — so be it.

Uh, actually, this is where you're officially getting too big for your damn britches, hon.  I look at that photo and see my friends Jane and Christy looking gorgeous, and Jane is wearing that beautiful vintage Von Furstenberg that I love.  Jessica, who I got to know after all this went down, is still there looking radiant in spite of your attempts to mis-characterize her intentions and paint her up as some kind of nymphomaniac starfucker.

Now, I know it's hard for people with Narcissistic Personality Disorder to understand that they are not Teh Cosmos, Ann, so I am going to explain this next part very slowly, as if to a child. 

The only thing you changed with your attack on Jessica Valenti was that you made her hugely famous (You're going to get her book when it comes out in two weeks, aren't you?!) and you clawed your own way out of complete obscurity and demonstrated to all the world that there are actually people dumber and sicker than Michelle Malkin.  And now you have become an unending source of fun, from your persecuted bleatings to your adorable little tough-chick-writer routine. 

'Cause it's Me and Mr Jones (Me and Mr Jones)

Left Blogistan LOVES you, Ann Althouse, if only for no other reason that on nights like tonight when I have nothing to post about, you always give me something to go on.  You are the irritating little grain of sand in my oyster shell.  And for that, I can't thank you enough.  It's so nice of you to maintain your kiosk at the corner of Batshit Street and the Crazytown Connector so that I can have something to make fun of whenever I want.  You're like a Greek Diner of dumb-assery, always there, always serving it up hot and fresh, any time of the day or night.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

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