Ann

The date was, man, like, twisted. You know the first line of the Stooges' song "Ann" (1969): "You took my arm and you broke my will ..." Well, that's what Ann Coulter did to me. There wasn't anybody there to tape the thing, fortunately, though I was hoping Roger Lodge and the crew over at Blind Date might waltz on over and have a gander at our lousy date. Even though Miss Coulter has four New York Times-bestsellers, she made me, poor ol' Holly, pay for her expensive, top-shelf cocktails. Then every time I tried to make a pass at her--me being the dom--she'd get all defensive and mutter something about the "liberal indoctrination" of my adolescence. And Cat, dig this, she's a total vegan. She wouldn't stop yammering about my porterhouse steak and how I was "killing God" by eating it. She started to sound like you! Then, she had the total nerve to berate me for pouring A-1 sauce on a nice cut of beef. Unfrigginbelievable.

So my mainman Turtledaub shows up--flask in hand--quoting Barry Goldwater, Ayn Rand and William F. Buckley like some sorta neocon historian, even going so far as to raise his eyebrows like ol' Buck-dogg, throws her down on the table, and starts making out with her right there ... Talk about Slander. I'm not mad atcha, Turtledaub. To quote Snoop Dogg, "It ain't no fun if the homiez can't have none."