Letters to the Editor
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Oh for crying in a bucket
I was worried about Salon's intellectual future yesterday when a freeper (or freeper look-alike) named Bill blogged on and started a chat revolution on a brief piece in the War Room about Bush's fluffy schedule not having room for Iraq. It blew away all the wonderful character of Salon's many sassy, smart-ass, insightful, intelligent readers who write their take on a piece from interesting and uniquely smart perspectives. Most are generally close to a stand-alone piece. Until yesterday, it was my main source of political and social commentary.
And now this. Camille Paglia is more than a has-been. She is pretty much a never-was. A public shell of a public persona. Maybe it was her pioneering lesbianism (or bi-proclivities) that intriqued, and made gave her a maverick imprint. I don't know. But her positions have been offensive on every front to truly thinking people. She completely lost me when she implied that there was no such thing as date rape. To women like Paglia, I guess it follows that anyone who is able to actually want or get a date is "asking for it".
In addition to being a self-proclaimed Queen/Princess/Empress of commentary...thank you for validating her gross misperception...she is a mean and petty person...not to mention a little over the top.
Years ago, my son (an very early and enormous fan who admired her long before everyone else knew who she was) wrote her a letter and mailed it to her home expressing the hope that when he was home from college he might have the opportunity to actually meet her. He's not a stalker, he knew her address because we are/were neighbors living a couple of houses away. She personally called his dorm room, got his roommate and unloaded. Who did he think he was? Did he realize who she was? How important she is?
Apparently not. Imagine the nerve of a lowly college student (and neighbor) thinking he was important enough to contact the likes of her. I raised him to believe he could approach ANYONE on an equal footing. Intellectually or otherwise. I won't even mention the time she came out with a hose and doused her neighbor's small pile of yard-cleanup burning twigs.
One word, professionally and personally. Bitch.