Like a sex addict's love for his genitalia, Ann Coulter is hopelessly in love with the sound of her own voice, one of the most annoying sounds in all creation. Her every utterance drips with know-it-all condescension and sarcasm, as she takes single syllable words and doubles them in a singsongy whine, as if Bullwinkle were a valley girl, turning "stop" into "STAH-ap" or "black" into "BLAH-ack," and so on. In another life she would have been a Diana Vreeland New York society matron, brandishing a cigarette holder and a martini, saying, "DAH-ling, I would LO-ve to help poor PE-ple if they weren't so UG-ly."
The Conservative Political Action Conference, chastised by the firestorm over Coulter's use of the endearments "faggot" and "raghead" in previous speeches, decided not to invite the hag this year, instead going for the charming Dick "Go Fuck Yourself" Cheney, Phyllis "I Hate Gays Even Though I Gave Birth To One" Schlafly, and Newt "Forget Your Chemo, I Want A Divorce" Gingrich.
But Coulter just had to come anyway, in a an act of hubris that went through the roof and across the street, where she spoke in an abandoned service station sponsored by the Young America's Foundation, aka Future Brownshirts of Tomorrow. One of the students expressed his desire to marry her, but I suspect he really just wants to just grab her hair, bend her over and anger-bang her in the only way most horny college conservatives know how to treat women.
Coulter's speech was the usual hash of fact free snarky asides written not for content but for comic effect, without actual comedy writing - jokes so leaden and hackneyed they would get her booed off the stage at open mike night at the Improv. It proves once again that conservatives can't do comedy, they can only slam the other side with lame invective. All Coulter could muster on Barack Obama was that "He's one of the LE-ast dangerous PE-ple I know named Hus-SEI-in." She then resorted to hack racism: "He wouldn't be running for PRES-ident if he weren't half-BLAH-ack." Haw, guffaw, chortle. Folks, tip those waitresses.
Coulter has moved full circle from provocative novelty to pinup phenomenon to gasping whore in a Vegas gutter, a media nymphomaniac who creams in her panties at the sight of a camera, like the equally pathetic (yet more talented) Norma Desmond of Sunset Boulevard. As she ran through her litany of John McCain's treasonous acts against conservatives, you couldn't help but see that these people are just a bunch of salivating, gnarly little fascists, interested only in their own, and God help the republic if they get in power ever again, ever ever ever ever.
To watch McCain suck up to them was even more horrifying. We have seen the monstrous things these people have given us, yet they think we want more. Coulter and her acolytes could care less if people lose their homes, get tortured, or die. The national debt can be paid off by the descendants of their great grandchildren. American troops can all come back and live in trailers in the tornado zone on welfare for all they care. Iraqi lives mean nothing - what's another dead raghead faggot? As long as they have their precious low taxes and their HDTVs and can keep the darkies out of their gated communities, everyone else can go fuck themselves.
Coulter may have become a laughingstock, but just as Roy Cohn was the face of modern conservatism during the Reagan era, she is now its Botoxed face today. If you want to know what these people really think, just listen to her for two minutes. Each time her gaping maw utters another quack, it's another nail in the conservative coffin, thus great fun to watch.
If I was to see Coulter in person, I would immediately channel the horrified woman in the restaurant scene in Hitchcock's The Birds, who looks at Tippi Hedren and says, "This all started when you came to town, didn't it? I think you're evil! EVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLL!!!!!"