Ann Coulter Kills at Her Father's Funeral

Ann Coulter's father John died last week, and this week she honored his memory with a column containing not one, but two Ted Kennedy jokes. I know I'd be proud.

Hahaha! Ted Kennedy! Back me up, mourners! I know you're out there - I can hear you breathing! Unlike dad! That lady in the shroud... she knows what I'm talking about!

Such is a daughter's grief. Think of her, then, as Ophelia with her violetless garlands, crossed with a real fucking hack.

But where's the Hillary material? Come on. It's right in front of you, Ann -- dad's dead... Hillary cries... you do the math.

Clearly, Ann's not at the top of her game. So I've taken the liberty of going through the eulogy -- cutting the Kennedy material -- and punching up the rest.

--

The longest baby ever born at the Albany, N.Y., hospital, at least as of May 5, 1926, who grew up to be my strapping father, passed away last Friday morning.

And by "strapping" I mean, "he beat me with a strap."

As Mother and I stood at Daddy's casket Monday morning, Mother repeated his joke to him, which he said on every wedding anniversary until a few years ago when Lewy bodies dementia prevented him from saying much at all: "54 years, married to the wrong woman." And we laughed.

Because he was dead.

John Vincent Coulter was of the old school, a man of few words, the un-Oprah, no crying or wearing your heart on your sleeve, and reacting to moments of great sentiment with a joke. Or as we used to call them:

Assholes.

Men.

When he was moping around the house once, missing my brother who had just gone back to college, he said, "Well, if you had cancer long enough, you'd miss it."

Unlike Lewy bodies dementia, apparently.

He'd indicate his feelings about my skirt length by saying,

I can see your balls.

"You look nice, Hart, but you forgot to put on your skirt."

Your parents are your whole world when you are a child.

Especially when other children avoid you out of instinct.

You only recognize what is unique about them when you get older and see how the rest of the world diverges from your standard of normality.

Or the cops come.

Besides being very funny, Father had an absolutely straight moral compass without ever being preachy or judgmental or even telling us in words.

If you call a five-decade joke about hating his wife, another about his son being like cancer, and another based on looking at his daughter's ass "funny."

Father hated puffery, pomposity, snobbery, fake friendliness, fake anything. Like Kitty's father in "Anna Karenina," he could detect a substanceless suitor in a heartbeat.

"War on the one hand is such a terrible, such an atrocious thing, that no man, especially no Christian man, has the right to assume the responsibility of beginning it." - Tolstoy

"We should invade their countries, kill their leaders and convert them to Christianity." - Some Fatherless Creep

He hated unions because of their corrupt leadership, ripping off the members for their own aggrandizement.

I know I'm forgetting some of the other things he hated, but you're starting to get the picture. Oh yeah, yogurt. Hated it. And mom.

But he had more respect for genuine working men than anyone I've ever known. He was, in short, the molecular opposite of John Edwards.

John Edwards being alive.

Father spent most of his nine-year FBI career as a Red hunter in New York City.

Where Stalin had sent his legions to steal the secrets of Broadway's Golden Era.

He never talked much about his FBI days.

Or dressing like a woman.

Father mostly had contempt for Soviet spies.

Reserving "hate" for unions, snobs, phonies, mom and us kids. Think of him as a kind of grown up Holden Caulfield, crossed with Hitler. Hitler Caulfield. The Catcher in the Rhine. This guy in the front row, he gets it!

In the early 1980s, as vice president and labor lawyer for Phelps Dodge copper company, Father broke a strike against the company ... Every day, Father walked with the strikebreakers through the picket line, (in my mind) brushing egg off his suit lapel.

And his skirt.

By 1986 it was over; the mineworkers voted against the union and Phelps Dodge was saved. For any liberals still reading, this is what's known as a "happy ending."

Not as happy as this funeral. But happy.

Now Daddy is with Joe McCarthy and Ronald Reagan.

"Hey, Ron, is it always this hot in here?"

Comments

[Marichu]

A person loss a beloved parent after a long debilitating illness. That is all I need to know. I will not judge how she decides to handle her grief. Writing the piece reminiscing about her father may be how she can come to grip with her sorrow and help cauterize her grief. I can only commiserate with her pain.

[PAFirefighter]

Ann has EARNED the level of disrespect we have for him.

Why would ANYBODY bring politics into a public memorialization of their dead father?

[nikto]

Daddy (cont)

The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.

I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You--

Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.

You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.

But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look

And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.

If I've killed one man, I've killed two--
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.

There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through

[nikto]

Somehow, this just seemed apropos...

Daddy

by
Sylvia Plath

You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time--
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal

And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend

Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.

It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene

An engine, an engine
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.
(continued, next post)

[MsLiz]

Here is the link to Coulter's article (it was not a eulogy delivered at his funeral):

http://www.anncoulter.org/

[nemo1043]

I am starting to think that Chris Kelly is the funniest man alive. His blogs are priceless. I forward them far and wide.

[auramac]

I found both columns, Coulter's and this response, disturbing.

[TXpastafarian]

HAHAHAHA! Awesome post! I'm still laughing...

[bronceye]

Her father is a dead guy. He should be honored by those who knew him, if he was worthy or loved. She is a toxic waste to be reviled by all human recompense. She obviously used him, like the neoconmen use all of the dead and disfigured, as photo-ops and talking points. Pretty disgusting AND insightful. She has no honor or credibility, as we all know. She is a Joe McCarthy reanimated(her tail gun is bigger, and more freely fired).

[MNinWI]

One of the biggest problems with lefties is that they pride themselves with their inclusion, no matter what. Although theoretically, this is honorable and just, practically it can be disastrous. I know this first hand and believe it's one of the major reasons the Green party will not grow to it's potential in this country. When reading some of the vile Coulter spews, you know there is something deeply wrong with her. She completely lacks compassion among other things and isn't that one of the criteria in diagnosing a sociopath? So for those that are finding fault with the author, please keep in mind the type of people we are dealing with and realize the rules don't apply here. And adding some humor to it is all the better. Without Jon and Bill to make me laugh, I would be in a constant state of depression. Thanks for the laugh, Mr, Kelly.

[TMAN]

I just read that coulter column. Never read a word of hers before. There she is spread out over two pages, a terribly sad empty, unloved little girl. Came from a small minded cold war early 50's style bourgeois nuclear family.
Chock full of fear. Took those values to her heart because thats where her only conditioned approval would ever come from. I felt nothing but empathy for her. This viper as I have called her in the past, (and for which I should apologize) I now see is devoid - no, empty at her core of any understanding of love, compassion. What she doesn't say drips with despair and pathos.

You just got a guided tour of the inner landscape of a contemporary adults deprived childhood. Very sad indeed. But it sure speaks volumes about those twenty percenter repubs who love her.

[larry278]

It is worth while to find the site of Mrs Betty Bowers, America's Best Christian to get Mrs Bowers's opinion of Ms Coulter. One may predict Ms Coulters's conduct. Mrs Bowers's opinions & analysis of Ms Coulter are still valid & will be valid till Ms Coulter dies. Ms Coulter is the sort of child who will put 30 grams of hash hish in the incense burner if her father had a high church funeral. She may be counted upon to scrawl obscene grafitti on the rest room walls of the facility used for her father's wake too.

[NanDarien]

"He'd indicate his feelings about my skirt length by saying,

I can see your balls."

I thought with androgen insensitivity syndrome, the balls never actually showed (even while wearing skirts as short as he likes to wear).

[DietrichMoody]

correction -

Ron Galloway, CHRIS KELLY APPEARS TO BE SATIRIZING THE OBITUARY NOT THE DEATH.

An obituary is a reflection of someone's life, one would hope but Ms. Ann Coulter elected to write an obituary about how "Dad Hated" this and "Dad Hated" " and how "these were Dad's political beliefs"

Ron Galloway, and to all those who find the satire "Tacky", I would be more concerned with that "hate" that Ann Coulter's Dad and Bill O'reilly racist Grandmother spewed, which these assholes appear to wear like a badge of honor.

[jbeach]

Ann Coulter is heartless to others.

I'd much rather her be treated with logic than with heartlessness towards her.

That was definitely one creepy-ass column she wrote. But IMHO that doesn't mean a column mocking it is any less creepy.

I can understand the temptation to "give it back to her where it hurts"; but IMHO this writer and all of us readers, as well as all of humanity, are better off just not playing that game.