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Comments by YACCS
Thursday, March 31, 2005

The best they can


ready to discuss physics


Bob Somersby makes one hell of a point about Wonkette

THE BEST THEY CAN DO: For ourselves, we never criticized Wonkette—nor would we have done so—until Tom Brokaw insulted the nation by dragging her onto NBC after the second Bush-Kerry debate (see THE DAILY HOWLER, 10/6/04). Who is Wonkette? A vacuous figure who peddles a pre-feminist, backlash persona—the smutty vamp with the dirty mouth, the slut who can’t stop talking about booze and sex. There’s a certain kind of man who loves that crap—and yes, the “press corps” is full of them! At any rate, Brokaw dragged her onto the air, and E. J. Dionne dragged her out just last week, with the completely predictable outcome (see THE DAILY HOWLER, 3/28/05). Adding insult to injury, of course, Brokaw put Cox on the air as a “liberal.” But let’s let Leiby describe her further. Here’s the “liberal spokesman” Brokaw threw on the air to discuss a presidential debate:

LEIBY (9/28/04): Celebrating her 32nd birthday and arrival as a New York Times Sunday mag cover girl, Ana Marie Cox—better known for her dirty-minded Internet persona, Wonkette—had a predictable reaction to the latest article boosting her fame: "I liked the part about me being a bitchy lush," she told us at a party in her honor at a U Street rooftop bar Sunday night. (Also predictably, she was quaffing champagne.)

The piece elevated Cox to goddess status in the blogosphere, detailing her activities—not to be confused with "work," we assure you—at the Democratic and Republican conventions. The cover featured Cox in a white tank top—the better, perhaps, to show off what the article described as her "peachy cream skin"—flanked by old-media campaign scribe Jack Germond and fellow veteran R.W. Apple Jr. ...

Inexplicably, the piece overlooked one key fact: Cox is married. Her husband of 41/2 years—Mr. Wonkette, also known as Chris Lehmann, formerly of The Post and now an editor at New York magazine—called it a "weird detail to omit." But, he said, "the blog is a persona. I think our marriage proves that you can talk slutty and still be a devoted spouse."

Yes, that is the best the Post newsroom can do, a fact we’ve discussed for the past seven years. When will people who do fine policy work accept the unpleasant but obvious truth about this lack of involving ideas—this trait which defines our modern “press corps?”


Now, I don't know how Bob keeps sane, tracking the lies of the Beltway Kool Kids Klub.

But this post points out the one thing I don't get about these folks, Ms. Cox has a husband. So unless she really is a slut, and I think that's not the case, all this leering is seriously pathetic. Maybe it's me, but wedding rings usually kill any erections I get. Dead.

Goddess? At this rate, it's like the line from About Last Night "if she didn't have a pussy, there would be a bounty on her ass." The left bloggers are disgusted with her profound incompetance in public. Me? I know she's not part of our little people's collective and she isn't going to work on the farm. It's all about her. But if I were her, I'd start covering my ass and making friends.

Here's the deal: the drinking slut is an act, and a bad one. At least when Liz Phair did it, you had the feeling she really did have that stray dick in her mouth. With Wonkette, it's all a cheap act, poorly done.

Why?

Because the much fired Ms. Cox has made stop after stop from Suck, to Mother Jones to the Chronicle of Higher Education and is in reality as much of a geek as the rest of us, but sees her career clock flashing before her eyes. So she works for Nick Denton and plays at being some kind of drunken slut.

What are the hazards of such a career? She should stop by her husband's job and talk to Amy Sohn, who used to write in incredible detail about her sex life for the NY Press. Well, it came up to bite her in the ass when she found people didn't seperate her column from her. And she found out that if you act like a slut, you get treated like a slut. And oddly enough, she didn't like it.

Or someone doesn't get that it's an act and actually comes on to her, in a serious way. And that's not fun either and I'm not talking about Big Media Matt or some other kid, but a horny old man, the kind which litters Washington.

But what I don't get is how guys are fooled. I think if you took Ana, not Wonkette, to Babes in Toyland, or Good Vibrations, her face would be as red as a Skins jersey. She would stammer and find a way to get the fuck out of there, running. Why? Because it's an act. You think her husband bangs her in the ass? Yeah, right. He'd probably have to walk through Anacostia in a white hood and robe first. She just likes to talk about it. I bet she's never even kissed another woman. Come on, someone who gets married at 27 and then at 32 turns into a drunken slut HAS to be acting. If she was having such great sex at 27, she wouldn't have married, what five years out of school? She just wants you to think she's this wild woman.

In my experience, the women who have interesting sex lives are loathe to let you know it. They don't run around and talk about drinking and assfucking because of the consequences, which is being tagged a slut. And that is the death knell of a reputation.

The whole idea of the dame, which is what that persona is, is not only retro, but somewhat undignified. Because it implies a woman who is, despite her attitude, subservient to men and their desires.

The feminists I know seem to get a lot more from sex than women playing at being dames. Because they can embrace their sexuality honestly and without playing at being what they aren't. If they like assfucking, it's on a need to know basis, not a public declaration.

I wonder if we're just beating up on her because she's famous, sort of. But then I talk to female bloggers and they HATE that image. It's like a slap in the face to them. For the most part, they're serious women who work hard to be well regarded, Wonkette undermines them.

But the reason the poor woman is the subject of such ire is this: if you go out to slay dragons, there better be some dead motherfuckin' dragons at your feet. Don't go pet them on the nose and pat them on the head and play burn the village with them. Not one person has said: "Steve, you're picking on her, you're jealous." They use invective to describe her instead, And not one word of it would see print if she went out once and kicked ass. There wouldn't be 70 fucking people screaming that "she isn't one of us" if she could kick a little ass and not play with the dragons.

posted by Steve @ 12:04:00 AM

12:04:00 AM

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