Caren West of The Sunday Paper has deep and abiding issues with other women. Of course, anything odd or foreign and not chock full of unearned platitudes and teeny-bopper cliches about her (Ms. West's) divine ability to take a breath on this planet become Crazy Angry Bitches. Clever, eh? Being a CAB sure beats flying one's dipshit, drunkard flag every week in an ass-wipe paper no person of substance would ever be caught reading. (Just mediocre bloggers apparently.)
I'm sure Laura Mallory could use a copywriter if Ms. West runs out of shoes, chihuahuas and vomit to babble on about. And I hear Ralph Reed's back too! She could stick her limp-haired head up his Mighty-Righty Christian ass -- for money, just like that adorable little Baron cupcake at "TSP" once did.
Shoot, West could just click-off down the hallway in full femme prattle to ask Baron how one does perform a freakshow media-whore act of that magnitude. She (Baron) wrote the texbook after all. Then again, West would have to pull her head outta the Turner-Seydel-Daddy's-Money, do-gooder green butthole first. Tough 'ho-choices, eh?
NOTE: Caren hon, I won't go too hard on you in the SGR, here on out, if you say in your next column that I'm actually quite pretty, a fabulous writer and that my blog deserves to be on the cover of The Economist. If you don't, well then.... may the best bullshitter win! It is seriously tough, tough, tough, tough, tough being a poor relation in this cold, cruel world. I would know.