Sharing in the groove.

Confession: I skim Ann Coulter's column nearly every week.*
I know it's a sick compulsion, but those hilariously over-the-top/Kool-Aid drinking diatribes keep me coming back for more.
Alas, this week's column (basically: "Joseph Wilson is a liar blah blah blah") is void of any great Coulterisms. It does, however, contain this delicious nugget of biographical background:

But that is not what Wilson says he found! Thus, his column had the laughably hubristic title, 'What I Didn't Find in Africa.' (Once I couldn't find my car for hours after a Dead show. I call the experience: 'What I Didn't Find in San Francisco.')

Can you imagine? Ann, circa 1985, in tight, tight acid-wash jeans, simultaneously slurping down a Coors Light and a Marlboro Ultra Light Menthol 100, trying to repress her hate-lust for the filthy hippies who are noodle-dancing to a phatty twenty-minute "Terrapin Station" groove.
The mind boggles.

*Sicker yet: I read Michelle Malkin's blog. Every day. Sometimes two or three times a day. Oh and look at Ann's hands in the picture above. Man hands, no?