All my media campaigning to mock half-naked moralist Carrie Prejean resulted in the mobilization of the nose-picking brigade to slime me right back. These deeply sensitive bigot protectors were most offended that I had joked that Carrie was once a homophobic man named Harry Prejean and the pageant had paid to cut off his penis, sand down his Adam’s Apple, and do a full body waxing. (A brain implant was more what was needed, I added.)
Most of the incredibly erudite responses have been on the level of “You look like an owl with those glasses” and “Die fag!”
An especially witty email was titled “Fags suck” and said, “Cut your own dick off, you old rump-riding faggot. P.S. Thank God for AIDS.” (I corrected the spelling and punctuation of that one to make the person–a real intellect–come off even better.)
But there WAS one comment thrown my way that I actually liked, and I want to publicly thank the desperate conservative who said it. It was, “You can’t spell Musto without the word smut.” Bless you, hater! I honestly love that! I might even make that the title of my next book!