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Saturday, March 22, 2014

Ann Coulter On Crying & Other Forms of Weakness

I have no tear ducts so I can’t cry. I had them removed on my 21st birthday.
The reason I always seem to be smiling when I’m on a television show is because I had special plastic surgery on my lips, mandible, upper and lower jaw, inner mouth, teeth, gums and cheekbones.
It is the absence of any real facial structure and composition that makes my eyes always dart to the right when I’m on a talk show giving the impression that I’m looking at someone.
I am looking at no one.
And no one looks at me.
Sometimes it makes me unhappy. On those rare occasions I go to my late night comfort food, one piece or half-a-piece of kale.

Sunday, December 29, 2013

The Me Nobody Knows

Although I’ve written many books and columns, I’ve never gotten totally personal and bared my innermost thoughts about, well, the real me.
I haven’t been, as my old drinking buddy Tupac Shakur was so fond of saying, “Keepin’ it real.”
Although I may seem harsh, confrontational, difficult, a little bitchy, shifty-eyed and maybe even scary sometimes, I’m actually quite fragile. Those who know me best would say that on most days I’m actually warm and fuzzy. A couple of times during the 2012 election I was even touchie/feelie.
As a young girl growing up in Connecticut, needless to say I was always the tallest person in my class. And the skinniest. Kids made fun of me for being a gawky beanpole. They nicknamed me The Countess Anorexia Nervosa.
I learned to deal with their barbs by fighting them with words, my fists and occasionally with knives. My weapon of choice then, and now, is the stiletto, a dagger with a very slim blade intended for thrusting. Still the best knife to kill someone with. It efficiently pierces the heart when words can’t do the job.
For dress-up I enjoy the classic dagger, a double-sheathed knife intended for stabbing. It fits comfortably into any Prada handbag.
Because of my height I never dreamt the dreams of typical high school girls in the late-seventies. Because I was taller than everyone I ruled out boyfriends.
I lost myself in music and television. Back then my biggest fantasies were to be like Farrah Fawcett on Charlie’s Angels or to be a back-up singer for Tina Turner, despite the fact that I’m really white and blonde and I have no ass.
Yes. I sing.
In fact, I rock!
Many people have compared my voice to a cross between Tammy Wynette and Wayne Newton before he reached puberty. And it’s Cher to whom I wear my hair in tribute.
Cher, you are a half-breed/gypsies/tramp and thieves Goddess!
Although my height caused me pain during adolescence, it paid off because I won a basketball scholarship to Cornell. Not only was I the tallest person on the girl’s hoop team, but the boys team as well.
It was during my freshman year in college in 1979 that I found my direction in life. I realized that I wanted to be a lawyer, syndicated columnist, pundit and a model for leg fetish magazines. I took a liking to short skirts that showed off my fabulous legs and high-heeled shoes that showed off my amazing size-17 feet.
By the time I graduated from law school, I’d long ago
abandoned the ephemeral musings of an adolescent girl and developed the cutting edge persona of a self-possessed woman with degrees, friends in high places and an unstoppable pre-menstrual cycle that lasted twenty-three days.
Now, as the 2016 Presidential election looms, Karl Rove has secretly reached out to me with the news that he wants me to be the Vice Presidential running mate to the next candidate of the Republican Party. Certain that Hillary Rodham Clinton will be the Democrat nominee, they feel that a strong woman will have a better shot at defeating her.
As the 2016 Republican candidate for Vice President, my past will be up for grabs by the evil Democrat spin machine. So, as my friend Oliver North advised me, I’m going to make the first strike and set the record straight about three things:
1. Who I am
2. Who I was
3. Who I hope to be
I’ll be answering the hard questions, confronting the tough issues and in memory of my friend Tupac Shakur, keepin’ it real.
True dat!

This work is a spoof.  Its entire contents are the products of the author’s imagination and were not written by, and do not represent the thoughts, feelings and actual experiences of, Ann Coulter.