My column tonight is about MAC’s new mug. To those who want to watch the object of my philippic, knock yourself out. But be warned: it’s ugly (tonight’s column will salve, I promise). In any event, the unpleasant sub-topic of my column being ugly mouths, I’ve noticed that so many American women are cursed with those. If it’s not “misshapen, bulbous lips,” acquired in the rooms of plastic surgeons, to quote my forthcoming column, then it’s a snarling upper lip stretched over exposed teeth, so that while the woman yaps, her fangs are exposed like those of a feral animal. Now I’m not talking about the commendable American attention to dentitionyou know, that Austin Powers look. (Here are some amusing comments about the “Anglo-American dental gap.”) That’s a good thing; a function of our wealth. What I’m speaking of is a kind of deformity of facial bones, really, or at least an unappealing feature, conjuring painter Willem de Kooning’s portrayals. Paula Zahn, Monica Crawley, Sheryl Crow (who seems as sweet as she is untalented), Margaret Carlson, and many otherswatch them speak. They struggle to zip their lips over their (formidably big) teeth when talking.
JF Kennedy the Realist
“And we must face the fact that the United States is neither omnipotent or omniscient ‘that we are only 6 percent of the world’s population’ that we cannot impose our will upon the other 94 percent of mankind — that we cannot right every wrong or reverse every adversity — and that therefore there cannot be an American solution to every world problem.”
— John F. Kennedy, U.S. President
Contrast these words with Dubya’s latest word salad at a press conference. “Democracy a la Dubya” will help put the finishing touches to the portrait of a fanatic. As will “What a Moronic Presidential Press Conference.”
Updated: Make Friends with Your 'Fast'
Today a mysterious package arrived from Volkswagen. In it was a gloriously ugly onyx gargoyle with the following instructions for the driver of that devil, the GTI:
Dear Ms. Ilana Mercer,
This is your fast. Make sure it gets plenty of exercise.
All the best,
Volkswagen
Here you can view some ads with “fast” in the background. Lefty magazines have crowed about the anti-fem angle of the commercials. The emphasis on speed has displeased the same habitual joy killers: “irresponsible” they call it.
Volkswagen has tapped into something. “Fast” sounds a lot like my alter ego when I drive Turbo-Toad (that’s my GTI). My husband will attest to the fact that, as welcome as “Fast” is on the dashboard—ears pinned back by the wind (“they channel air away from fast’s face and off his back,” says the instruction pamphlet “Fast” came with)—I didn’t need him to remind me of my mission when driving the GTI.
Update: Pursuant to the comments hereunder, I have to ask, Why is the love of fast, fabulous cars equated with youth and folly? This country worships youth and thinks of looking good, having fun, or driving a fast car as the prerogatives of youth. Rubbish. Besides which mature drivers who’ve been on the road for a while are the real good drivers. By the way, as this great article makes clear, the GTI is just a magnificent car. Not only does it have a tremendously powerful, brilliantly engineered engine, it is accoutered with safety features and luxuries absent in many a sports car. As for my being a bit childish; big deal. So where was I? Fast comes with 4 tails. He has the devilish badboy tail on today; I may change it soon.
(Be sure to rev up with the preceding blog post, Glorious GTI)
Updated II (4/11/022) When GTI Maker Was Allowed Fem-Mocking Humor: Make Friends With Your ‘Fast’
Feminism, General, Ilana Mercer, Political Correctness, Technology
Today [Aug 21, 2006], a mysterious package arrived from Volkswagen. In it was a gloriously ugly onyx gargoyle with the following instructions for the driver of that devil, the GTI:
Dear Ms. Ilana Mercer,
This is your fast. Make sure it gets plenty of exercise.
All the best,
Volkswagen
Here [4/11/022: this was banned, for obvious, #MeToo reasons] you can view some ads with “fast” in the background. Lefty magazines have crowed about the anti-fem angle of the commercials. The emphasis on speed has displeased the same habitual joy killers: “irresponsible” they call it.
But these are my thoughts exactly: “Stop yakking; I can’t hear the engine roar.”
Volkswagen has tapped into something. “Fast” sounds a lot like my alter ego when I drive Turbo-Toad (that’s my GTI). My husband will attest to the fact that, as welcome as “Fast” is on the dashboard—ears pinned back by the wind (“they channel air away from fast’s face and off his back,” says the instruction pamphlet “Fast” came with)—I didn’t need him to remind me of my mission when driving the GTI.
Update: Pursuant to the comments hereunder, I have to ask, Why is the love of fast, fabulous cars equated with youth and folly? This country worships youth and thinks of looking good, having fun, or driving a fast car as the prerogatives of youth. Rubbish. Besides which mature drivers who’ve been on the road for a while are the real good drivers. By the way, as this great article makes clear, the GTI is just a magnificent car. Not only does it have a tremendously powerful, brilliantly engineered engine, it is accoutered with safety features and luxuries absent in many a sports car. As for my being a bit childish; big deal. So where was I? Fast comes with 4 tails. He has the devilish badboy tail on today; I may change it soon.
(Be sure to rev up with the preceding blog post, Glorious GTI)