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Old 04-21-2005, 05:46 PM   #81 (permalink)
... a sort of licensed troubleshooter.
 
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I should write them about this!
Quote:
Dear Time Magazine,
WTF?
-Willravel
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Old 04-21-2005, 06:44 PM   #82 (permalink)
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My favorite thing about her is that she makes ridiculous public statements and then tries to hide them under the hyperbole umbrella.
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Old 04-21-2005, 08:22 PM   #83 (permalink)
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Quote:
Originally Posted by F-18_Driver
Ann spouts her opinions, which you can take or leave. Moore attempts to sway people by deception, i.e. dummying up his references by editing out of context, or outright lies.

[snip]

I'd much rather deal with her opinions than Moore's lies.
Uhh, sorry, but her "facts" are at least as wrong as Moore's, and arguably moreso. When her errors are pointed out, she dismisses them as unimportant and complains that it's just liberals attacking her.

It's truly embarrassing that she's an American.
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Old 04-22-2005, 08:56 PM   #84 (permalink)
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Quote:
Originally Posted by willravel
Didn't Britney Spears have a NYT best seller? What about the wrestler Mankind? How many shmucks with zero respectabilit have gotten to the #1 spot?

Anne Coultier is like a zit. We pick at her because it bothers us, no reason beyond that. Some of us simply shrug and say it's a part of the world, but most of us only pay attention because it is a blemish.

Didn't Michael Moore also have a bestseller? Are not Moore and Coulter flip sides of the same coin?
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Old 04-22-2005, 08:58 PM   #85 (permalink)
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Quote:
Originally Posted by JohnBua
Didn't Michael Moore also have a bestseller? Are not Moore and Coulter flip sides of the same coin?
not really... moore can be funny... at least pre-F/911... coulter is just shrill and always has been... although i think moore might be on his way there...
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Old 04-23-2005, 08:53 AM   #86 (permalink)
... a sort of licensed troubleshooter.
 
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Quote:
Originally Posted by JohnBua
Didn't Michael Moore also have a bestseller? Are not Moore and Coulter flip sides of the same coin?
Moore wrote "Downsize This!: Random Threats From an Unarmed American", and I believe that it was a best-seller. The thing is that while Moore is one who lies and exaggerates, Coultier is a madwoman. I'm not yet convinced that Moore isn't just power hungry.
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Old 04-23-2005, 10:18 AM   #87 (permalink)
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Quote:
Originally Posted by willravel
Let me begin by saying that the woman convicted as Tokyo Rose was pardoned by Gerald Ford in 1977, therefore she was not guilty.
This says it all. You don't have much experience with or knowledge of the law, do you?

BTW, Debs served time in prison. He wasn't a bad guy, he was just advocating socialism/communism, which would have entailed the overthrowing of the government... They have NO sense of humor about that kind of thing...
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Old 04-23-2005, 12:59 PM   #88 (permalink)
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Old 04-23-2005, 04:13 PM   #89 (permalink)
... a sort of licensed troubleshooter.
 
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/one last closing threadjack
Quote:
Originally Posted by moosenose
This says it all. You don't have much experience with or knowledge of the law, do you?
Nope. The only experience I have is watching cheezy lawyer shows on television and geting my way out of being a juror on a few occasions. But this isn't about my credentials, is it? The reason behind the pardon is what is important.

Quote:
The American and Australian prisoners of war who wrote [Toguri D'Aquino's] scripts assured her she was doing nothing wrong and immediately after the war General Douglas MacArthur's staff and the United States Justice Department cleared her of wrongdoing.

When the United States press caused an uproar over her attempt to return to the United States in 1948, Toguri was put on trial.
She was assured that she was innocent by the justice department, it was only upon returning the media decided to go after her. The trial was a joke. The judge admitted he was prejudiced against her from the start. As someone who claims to be more experienced at the law than I, can you tell me what happens to a trial and verdict when a judge says he is prejudiced against the defendant in one of their cases?
/end threadjack with apologies

BUT....this isn't about Toguri D'Aquino. This thread is about Anne Coultier being on the cover of Time. Do you have any questions/comments about that? There is another thread about traitors going on right now that host made specifically for this threadjack.

Last edited by Willravel; 04-23-2005 at 04:16 PM..
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Old 04-23-2005, 05:01 PM   #90 (permalink)
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Quote:
Originally Posted by willravel
The reason behind the pardon is what is important.
No, what's important is that she was tried and convicted. Being pardoned at a later date does nothing to affect her guilt or innocence. Pardons are a matter of clemency, not of being found "not guilty". FYI: A great many of the lower-ranking Axis soldiers that were convicted of war crimes were later pardoned and released (most by 1955). Does that mean that they were wrongfully convicted? Of course not.

Quote:
She was assured that she was innocent by the justice department, it was only upon returning the media decided to go after her. The trial was a joke. The judge admitted he was prejudiced against her from the start. As someone who claims to be more experienced at the law than I, can you tell me what happens to a trial and verdict when a judge says he is prejudiced against the defendant in one of their cases?
Judges are often biased against people tried before them. That's irrelevant. What IS relevant is that the judge conducted the trial in an impartial manner, and that she received due process of law. If the judge didn't, even if she was convicted at the trial level, that's grounds for reversal upon appeal at the multiple levels of appellate jurisdiction.

BTW, regardless of what you may see on "Law and Order", the media can NOT bring criminal charges against an individual, EVER. The most that they can do is contact the police, but only if the specific media organization was the target of a specific attack of some form. An example of this would be, say, if a media outlet was firebombed, they can call the police and "press charges". But as for actually bringing charges? Nope, they can't do it, just as they can't bring somebody before a grand jury. That's not "what they do".
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Old 04-26-2005, 05:04 PM   #91 (permalink)
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Locobot
Ann Coulter could never dream of being as influential as Britney Spears, that's the truth in today's America. Make of it what you will.


please dont encourage Time by buying this issue here's the cover:



Really she's not that bad looking...a little duct tape over the mouth...
Funny, I have always thought she looked like a shemale.

No offense to the shemale population of the world.
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Old 04-28-2005, 06:10 AM   #92 (permalink)
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Best blog ever?

Quote:
I Fucked Ann Coulter in the Ass, Hard

The Farmer’s Market on Fairfax and 3rd is a Los Angeles landmark, attracting tourists and everyday Angelinos alike, as well as many famous faces. Among the celebrities I have seen there are Muhammad Ali, Terri Garr, Tyra Banks, Laura Linney, Keenan Ivory Wayans, the guitarist for The Cult, Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs, and Weird Al Yankovic.

But Ann Coulter is the only celebrity I’ve ever spotted at Farmer’s Market that I wound up fucking in the ass, hard.

It would be fair to observe that my feeling obligated to present the list of celebrities above in roughly Black-White-Black-White order is indicative of my own carefully Liberal sensibilities. And that this sort of conscientiousness is more than a little ridiculous, on examination. But what I notice about myself only on reflection, Ann Coulter seemed to recognize and respond to in an instant, like a puma recognizes an injured giselle. For Ann Coulter is a predator. A predator with a hungry asshole.

I first spotted her sitting at a table in front of The Gumbo Pot with another woman who looked not unlike her, but a generation older (I neglected to ask her at any point subsequently whether this had in fact been her mother). I vaguely recognized her—there’s always a lag time placing faces you know from cable when unconfined to a telescreen—and began to notice, stealing furtive glances up from the copy of Steinbeck I was reading, that she was eyeing me with unsettling scrutiny.

The next thing I knew, her companion (mother?) had left and Coulter was standing over me, looking skeptically at my reading material.
‘The Grapes of Wrath, huh?’
‘Yes’ I said, faking composure. ‘It’s fantastic.’
‘It’s a fantastic primer for vacuous proto-Communists everywhere,’ she said dismissively.
‘I don’t know about that..’
She sighed. ‘I don’t have enough ink in my pen to keep a running list of what you don’t know. May I?’
She motioned to the empty chair next to me.
‘Of course.’ It would be fair to say my voice trembled a little.
She sat and said nothing. Ann Coulter evidently takes an unappreciative view of small talk. That she was eager to continue antagonizing me became evident when I re-opened my recently-insulted book to resume reading. A young man passed in a t-shirt proclaiming ‘Iraq Nam’. She stopped him.
‘1. Haircut. 2. Shower. 3. Get a job, you sniveling hippy,’ she glowered. ‘You’re probably too high to remember that, so write it down--if you can write.’
He looked at her with dismay and scampered away like a kicked cat. She turned to me with bloodlust.
‘What do you think of the war: complete success, or very nearly complete success?’ she asked.
‘Well, in no time—barring the strong possibility of Civil War--we’ll have a democratically-elected anti-US Islamicist government in charge of the world’s second-largest oil reserves, so I’d have to say only very-nearly, on the complete success scale, at a hysterically distorted best.’
She showed her teeth. ‘It sounds to me like you don’t support our troops.’
‘I think that ‘Support Our Troops’ business is the most crass, craven cowardice ever to go unquestioned by the allegedly Liberal media.’
‘Yes? Yes?’ There was oddly growing excitement in her voice.
‘It allows the Administration to absolve itself of responsibility for its own flawed policy. It’s no different than if you sent a classroom of 2nd graders into a burning building, and when anyone objects you throw in their face that they "don’t support our 2nd graders"’
‘Where do you live?’
‘A few blocks away.’
‘Take me there.’


When we got to my apartment, she looked around glumly.
‘I was thinking you’d have half-burned American flags up on the wall,’ she said, disappointed.
‘That’s ridiculous. I love my country.’
‘Whatever you think that means,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘Don’t you have anything nasty to say about the President?’
‘Like what?’
‘Like he’s an imbecile, or corrupt, or a corrupt imbecile—the usual sore-loser bitter chatter.’
‘To be honest, I didn’t like the nasty things that were said about Clinton, and I’ve decided to have respect for the Office, no matter who holds it. I don’t think President Bush is corrupt or an imbecile anyway. Would you like something to drink?’
‘I think maybe this was a mistake,’ she said, starting to go.
‘That’s not to say I don’t disagree strongly with many of his policies and objectives.’
She seemed to reconsider. ‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know. Name one.’
‘Get me a drink first.’


With every point I expressed that ran counter to a view she held, she removed one article of clothing. Soon she sat on my couch naked, gently pulling at her untrimmed pubic hair, staring intently but not quite invitingly at me. The growing hard lump in my throat was just outpaced by the one in my pants. I was a little nervous because we had agreed on the last two points—the need to reconsider the option of nuclear energy, and drilling in the Arctic—and I noticed her oversized nipples were no longer hard. Luckily, she was, by this point, determined.
‘What do you think,’ she began provocatively, ‘of the President’s plan to privatize Social Security?’
I sighed with relief; this was as sure a promise to seal the deal as her asking if I had a condom.
‘I think it’s a payoff to the Americans the President has always been most intent on pleasing: the richest 1%.’
‘What do you mean?’ she cooed. I noticed her nipples hardening once more. She dropped to her knees in front of me. She pushed me backwards and positioned my legs up in the air.
‘A stock’s value is even now only partially tied to the actual value of any publicly traded company. But who’s going to profit from inflated valuations when stock prices swell irrationally from the forced, artificial injection of capital?
Her breath was hot on my ‘taint as she lifted my scrotum. ‘Yes? Yes?’
‘You might as well shoehorn billions of dollars into the Baseball Card market. The price of a Derek Jeter rookie will be driven up to hundreds of thousands of dollars—before the bubble bursts and the whole market crashes massively.’ It was getting hard to stay on point as she tongue-fucked my shitter vigorously.
‘Don’t..Stop!!’ her contorted mouth pled from my butthole.
‘The top 1% will sell stocks at the inflated valuations to the novice investors-by-necessity, the market will swell and crash, and the same 1% will come back and re-purchase their holdings at pennies on the dollar. Meanwhile, Social Security will go bankrupt and all the novice investors will be eating catfood for the duration of their "golden years,'’ barring a massive Federal bailout several hundred times in excess of what the Savings & Loan scandal cost us.’
She sprung up on the couch on all fours and looked over her shoulder at me. She pointed to her twitching, puckered anus. ‘See this?’
I nodded eagerly.
‘I want you to wreck it.’
I spit on my skeezer-pleaser and, prying her ass cheeks apart like a hot dinner roll, drove it home, into the biggest browneye I had ever seen. She gurgled contentedly. Every thrust of my babymaker was met with a wrenched squeal as I grabbed her by the hips and began really leaning into it.
‘Harder!’ she begged, ‘Harder!! Tell me what you think of Chomsky!’
‘I..think..he’s..brill..iant..but..I..don’t really agree with much of his stance on Israel, and--’
‘You’re slowing down!’ she snapped. ‘DON’T SLOW DOWN!’
I went back to punishing her asshole, giving no thought whatsoever to compassionate conservatism as her chocolate socket gnawed on my pork pipe. She was babbling now, as out of a delirious reverie.
‘Feed it,' Ann Coulter rasped. 'Feed my hungry asshole!'
I buried her face in a throw pillow and she swiveled her hips back on my fuckstick with obvious appreciation. My pace quickened as my man-magma built towards eruption.
‘Wait!’ she gasped, sensing the fuse on my yogurt cannon was burning quick. ‘I want to take you ass-to-mouth!’
I withdrew from her puckerhole with an audible ‘pop’ and she scrambled around, gulping at my wang-dang-doodle as though the lives of all her loved ones hinged on her marks for enthusiasm. Her eyes rolled up pleadingly as she threw her head down again and again on my magic johnson. I knew what she wanted.
‘There is a specter haunting Europe,’ I began, and she started to convulse spasmodically with her own thrashing orgasm, her head now dribbling in a blur against my groin. I repeated every Karl Marx quote I could think of until I reached my own ‘historic inevitability’ and launched surge after surge from my hairy boda bag. I ejaculated with what seemed like enough force to blow out the back of her head--but her head was made of stronger stuff. She sputtered, gobbled and gulped what I’d have to call a very liberal, even radically so, quantity of hot splooey.
Once she caught her breath, she wiped her mouth, stood, and took me by the hand.
‘Let’s go to the bathroom.’
‘Why?’
She seemed surprised I had to ask. Her tone was that of someone reminding another of something too obvious to need mention.
‘Uh, so I can get in the tub and you can piss all over me?’



I sat in a robe and watched her as she dressed.
‘Will I see you again?’ I asked tentatively.
‘Sure,’ she said, pointing to the TV. ‘On that.’
Some moments passed. I tried to dispel the awkward silence.
‘Well, nice meeting you,’ I offered.
‘You’ve really got a gift for tedious small talk,’ she shot back.
I was a little hurt and, recognizing this, she softened just a shade as she reached for her purse to leave.
‘Hey.’
‘Yes?’ I asked.
‘Thanks for not staring at my adam’s apple.’
‘No problem.’
She let herself out without another word, and I sat in the late afternoon silence alone. I considered how it felt to be a disposable instrument in someone’s personal debasement fantasy.

All in all, it didn’t feel too bad.
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