07/22/2005 03:13 pm ET | Updated May 25, 2011

Comment dit-on “WTF” en français?

Dear Ms. Buck:

I assume that you are a most gifted writer and that your radio voice is charming and soft, cooing even. I frankly don’t know.

Perhaps you read Anaïs Nin’s Little Birds by candlelight while tugging on your stockings and batting your eyelashes, draped over the radio listening to the news – politics slips in, unannounced, slowly taking over your "tribal" tones – or something equally as out of place in a political discussion.

Whatever the reason, I find your critique of Randi Rhodes a bit too pointed, out of context, and out of genre even.

When you say:

"…the opinions of my own tribe in the tones of my tribe: measured cadences, husky perhaps with regret"

You seems to be describing Nina Simone or Cesaria Evora, both of whom I adore, as I adore Nin and other husky, damaged and sensual vixens. But that is neither here nor there, because I don’t believe Rhodes is talking about soulful seduction or titillating whispers (unless I missed that show).

I do not recall Rhodes ever suggesting that she was anything other than a hard-edged, former military broad - one who handles the organs of politics more firmly than most of our male politicos, who are themselves too busy grasping for something a bit more rounded.

You then describe Rhodes by saying:

"she too has the end-of-auction shipwreck voice, but instead of defensive, its mode is aggressive."

And again I feel a sort of Anne Sexton image rising, tinged with a boozy cabaret scent, not one of a take-no-prisoners, sassy, flagrantly irreverent lighting storm – a far better and more accurate assessment of Rhodes.

Randi is brash and a saucy dish to be sure and not to everyone’s liking. She is, however, a fresh slamming of air against the sedated cheeks of this country. Brilliant too, I might add. But what do I know? I am just a bitchy writer who sometimes purrs and sometimes coos, depending on the story, and I also adore the writings of Henry Miller (how is that for a mixed bag?).

Yep, I will gladly listen to “screaming, squawking, and screeching” from highly intelligent and well informed women on any day at any time. I wish more women were busy screaming, squawking, and screeching; then we would really get this country into shape, or at the very least get the men all hot and bothered. (When hot and bothered, men are too busy to cause mischief).

I do have a question on a particular point you made: When you speak of your "tribe" and the "tribal tones" of that tribe, what on earth are you talking about?

Because now this mixing of imagery, evoking a sort of Black Elk Speaks mixed with the languid lyrical stylings of Nina, gives the impression either that French Vogue has not ingrained enough cultural understanding in you or that moving to New Mexico has simply made your metaphors confused.

In any case, Randi is a gem and a friend. Turn to a different station if need be, but this little diatribe from you is below the belt.