A Blessing for Ann (The Viper) Coulter

By Paul

Is there a more hateful person in politics than right-wing maniac and character assassin Ann Coulter? Well, yes. Rush ("Where's my Vicodin?") Limbaugh. But other than him?

By now, you've heard that Ms. Coulter drew laughs and applause from fellow bigots by calling
Democratic Presidential candidate John Edwards a "faggot." We here at Naked Authors do not believe in name-calling. So we will not respond in kind to that vituperative, venomous, bottom-feeding, mud-slinging, anorexic pitbull of a media whore and insult slut with a curiously prominent Adam's apple.

And because I am of mild temperament and placid thoughts I leave Ann with this holy and heartfelt Yiddish blessing:

Migulgl zol er vern in a henglayhter, by tog zol er hengen, un bay nakht zol er brenen.

Which can be translated loosely as:

"She should be transformed into a chandelier, to hang by day and to burn by night."

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HAIRBALLS AND DOG BARF REMIND ME OF ED BEGLEY, JR.

And I mean this as a compliment.

When Taxi our Neurotic Cat hacks up a hairball or Nikki our Retarded Rescue Dog barfs (as she did yesterday after eating a live bee), I always think of actor Ed Begley, Jr. Not for his role on "St. Elsewhere." Or as Frances Conroy's boyfriend on "Six Feet Under." Not even for his outstanding performance in David Mamet's play, "Romance," a wacky legal satire we saw downtown last year. (Ed played a lawyer who hated his client. Now, there's something I can relate to.)

I'm not talking about Ed's fine acting. He's a gadfly hereabouts, a Studio City neighbor and well-known environmentalist. You may have seen him on television riding a bicycle to run a generator that, in turn, powers his toaster. Okay, he's a little obsessed. Anyway, he's developed "Begley's Best, non-toxic, biodegradable household and carpet cleaner that's terrific at removing cat and dog crud.

Nikki and Taxi are constantly fouling the beige carpeting that the developer idiotically put in the spec house we bought just after a minor porn star who was living here defaulted on her purchase contract...but that's another story. The porn star is gone; the carpeting is still here; the animals barf, and "Begley's Best" erases the stains. Simple as that. All profits go to charity, so do your part and buy some.

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PAUL REVEALS THE DIRTY LITTLE SECRET BEHIND "THE SECRET"

The lovely Renee and I had a row the other night on the way home from the Ahmanson Theater in downtown L.A.

Inasmuch as we had just seen a stunning production of Edward Albee's "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf," what better time to go at it?

Martha: Look sweetheart, I can drink you under any goddamn table. So don't worry about me.

George: Martha, I gave you the prize years ago. There isn't any abomination award that you...

Martha: I swear, if you existed, I'd divorce you.

We both loved the play, so that wasn't the issue. Kathleen Turner was withering as sharp-tongued Martha and Bill Irwin slyly effective as the beat-upon husband who’s not quite the milquetoast he seems. Rather, I caught hell for giving Renee grief over the book she just bought and was reading during intermission. It's “The Secret” by Rhonda Byrne, and it's currently the number one best-selling non-fiction book in our great country. (But then MacDonald's is the best-selling hamburger, if you get my drift).

According to the book's Foreword, there is a "Great Secret" that has been passed down for hundreds of years. It is a secret known by only a few, including Plato, Shakespeare, Newton, Hugo, Beethoven, Lincoln, Emerson, and Einstein. (Perhaps Jim Born, too, but Ms. Byrne doesn't say.)

So, what is this "Great Secret?" I can spare you skimming through this volume that is even slimmer than Nicole Richie on meth. In essence, the message seems to be that if you think good thoughts, you'll get rich and famous. Boosted by Oprah Winfrey, the book has 3.75 million copies in print.

Now, a closer look. There are neat chapter headings such as, "Embrace Your Magnificence." There is an epigraph supposedly taken from "The Emerald Tablet, circa 3000 B.C." I don't know where the tablet was discovered or who has it today, and its message is so incredibly profound I cannot understand it.

As above, so below.
As within, so without.

Great portions of the book were not written by Ms. Byrne, at all. Most chapters consist of endless blathering from a host of "experts" ready to teach these Newtownian-Lincolnesque-Einsteinian Secrets.

In sum, "The Secret" is not really a book at all. It's warmed over, second hand, boring, cliche-ridden truisms of so-called inspirational speakers and other charlatans, all stirred into a feel-good pastiche of flabby thoughts. (Note to Jim Born. "Pastiche" is a Hungarian word meaning tiny mustache).

Here's one example. Marie Diamond, described as a "feng shui consultant," writes: "The Secret means that we are creators of our Universe, and that every wish we want to create will manifest in our lives."

Each chapter ends with "Secret Summaries," in the event you may have forgotten something you read five minutes earlier. Examples:

You get to fill the blackboard of your life with whatever you want.

The only thing you need to do is feel good now. (I think it's possible Anna Nicole Smith adhered to this instruction with large doses of methadone).

You are like a human transmission tower, transmitting a frequency with your thoughts. (Does the F.C.C. know about this?)

Okay, you get my point. The number-one bestselling non-fiction book in America is a steaming pile of mierda. Yet, my wife, a powerful, intelligent, independent woman, a trial lawyer and tennis champion, felt compelled to buy it, when for the same money, she could have bought a bag of vodka balls from Kron Chocolatier. (Renee is also the model for Victoria Lord in my SOLOMON vs. LORD books, so she can also crack wise and counter-punch with the best of the banterers).

Now, I'm really going to get into trouble, and not just with Renee. I must ask Patty, Cornelia, and Jacqueline. Why do WOMEN buy into these self-help frauds? I'm betting Jim Born and Jim Grippando wouldn't be caught dead thumbing through "The Secret," though Born might shoplift a copy, just to check out the store's security measures.

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KUDOS TO THE CHEERLEADER IN CHIEF



I know what you're thinking.

Paul is praising President Bush? Has he lost his mind? His cojones? His meds?

No. I think the Bush Administration should receive credit for moving swiftly and decisively to fix the shameful situation at Walter Reed Army Hospital. Sure, the Bushies should have done all this before the Washington Post brought the horrid conditions to light. But there's a blot on Congress, too. Both Republicans and Democrats share guilt with the Bush Administration. (The Post's incredible coverage can be found here).

At the very least, let's upgrade the quality of post-trauma care both at military and V.A. hospitals. Consider this hypothet. Let's say that First Daughter Jenna Bush, who seems to have the social conscience of a pitcher of martinis, was at a Buenos Aires nightclub drinking "Flaming Assholes." I'm not being a wiseguy here. A Flaming Asshole is a combination of blackberry brandy, tequila and 151-proof rum that is set ablaze. If you don't believe me, ask Jim Born. And let's say, unfortunately, Jenna's hair catches fire and she is seriously burned. I just want Iraq veterans like Jesus Martinez
to get the same quality health care the Bush babe could expect.

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BORN AGAIN: JIMBO HITS L.A.

Fresh off his "Florida Fiction" gold medal for ESCAPE CLAUSE, Special Agent Born will be signing FIELD OF FIRE at the Mystery Bookstore in Westwood tonight at 7. For those of you who think this is Jim's first award for fiction, I'm told he's been winning accolades for exceptionally creative writing in his arrest reports for years.

One more thing, Jimbo. Yesterday, on "The Lipstick Chronicles, Michele Martinez wondered why she kept coming to Naked Authors and not finding "nudie pix" of you and me. (To which Jim Grippando might ask, "What am I, chopped liver?") I don't have an answer to Michele's question. But I suggest the Three Amigos consider it. And if Michelle or any of the Lipstickers can answer the question I posed above about women and self-help books, I'm willing to listen.
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Paul