Sometimes I rhyme slow, sometimes I rhyme Quick.
Please read this article.
Of particular interest are the passages where they talk about Jonathan Franzen, Tina Brown ("The shrill Brit with the jiggly arms..."), Martha Stewart ("the arch-priestess of the vast, middle-American church that promised a medicated afterlife in Connecticut where there's no dirt, no dark people, and you have all the chenille Easter baskets, bead-encrusted butterfly cutters and $88 wire trees you can carry."), Harvey Weinstein ("...space-devouring Miramax creature has earned a reputation from Paris to the Punjab as perhaps the worst-behaved party guest in the history of the human race."), and Candace Bushnell ("Doesn't talk; shrieks.")
Henry Kissinger doesn't make the top 10 due to "diminished relevance" but they still spear him but good, along with Michael Moore- taking an impressive spot at New York's 3rd most loathsome entity- aptly pointing out that "his arguments against gun control are simplistic, weak and mired in the cloying stink of self-service, which smells suspiciously like a fat man's crack."
Too much, my friends, too much! I actually laughed out loud. And after the pint of blood I had drawn today, I needed that.
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