Dear Henry,
I used to think you were pretty cool – way back when you fronted the greatest punk band ever (The Vandals), and well before you became a tedious purveyor of the “spoken word.” But now I see you for what you truly are – a wuss. Roll tape.
I just read your open letter to Ann Coulter – the one where you ask her to work for you as a way to teach her tolerance – and so she’ll “shut the f*ck up.”
No contradiction there.
But I suppose this is how you define yourself as “edgy,” being five years or so too late in your feeble swing at the go-to punching bag for the predictable progressive hack. Calling her “girlfriend?” Referring to her “one thousand yard stare?” Replacing “man” with Ann? You’ve left no cliche unturned. Something tells me, though, your audience still laps it up. See, you don’t just preach to the choir – you give it a reach around.
During your rant, you tell Ann, “you used to be funny,” mocking her “silly books,” and on her career you wonder, “where can it go from here?”
The same can all be said for you (except the “used to be funny” part). And something tells me this is more about you, than her. Look, Ann doesn’t need me to defend her, and I’m not. I just need to tell everyone – in my own, thoughtful open letter – why you’re so bent out of shape by her.
You’re a wuss.
Last night, the great comic Jim Norton pointed it out to me: you’re a wannabee comedian who avoids the risk of being a comedian. Instead, you hide behind this “spoken word” schtick. That way if no one laughs, it wasn’t supposed to be funny anyway. Castratos have more balls.
One thing you have to give Ann – she ventures into enemy territory. You don’t. And that’s why you hate Coulter – because she’s better at being you, than you are. She’s not a comedian – she’s a raconteur – and sells more books in a sneeze than you will ever do in a lifetime. So maybe attacking Coulter, you think, might gain some cache at the daily Kos.
Forget your music – this is what makes you truly, a punk.