The Paglia has turned into that person you occasionally run into at parties, alone in a corner with her third drink. You strike up a conversation to 'draw her out of her shell' only to discover she's alone for a reason.
The Enemy admits it, he was once enthralled by the Paglia.
Not only by her writing, but by the apoplexy she induced in his friends
and cohorts. However, after years of her fevered ramblings about
Madonna, her tempestuous Italian roots and her heroic "60's
Generation", The Enemy concluded that "the-bitch-be-crazy" (the Paglia wouldn't object to the use of the 'B' word here, if for no other reason than Gloria would.)
The Paglia has turned into that person you occasionally run
into at parties, alone in a corner with her third drink. You strike up
a conversation to 'draw her out of her shell' only to discover she's
alone for a reason. She launches —— talking at you in florid declarations that she's obviously rehearsed for hours in
front of a mirror. You're embarrassed for her and trapped until she takes
a breath, you excuse yourself to use the bathroom. You hide in the
pantry.
After the party, you imagine she goes home to her cats and
breaksdown, sobbing into her curtains and beating her head with
clenched fists like Annette Bening in American Beauty "stupid! stupid! stupid!". The cats hide in the pantry.
"I'm fine Mrs.Peterson" she sniffles a smile through the mail slot "It was the T.V., I'm sorry it woke you, I'll turn it down".
Sad. Still, even a stopped watch tells the correct time twice a day...
"John McCain's courage under torture during the Vietnam War deserves everyone's gratitude and respect. But as a national candidate, the stumpy, uptight McCain is a lemon. Oy, that weaselly voice and those dated locutions and stilted intonations. Who needs a weird old coot with a short fuse in the White House? This isn't a smart game plan for the war on terror." - Camille Paglia
Who needs a weird old coot with a short fuse indeed Camille.
