This is really how Liberal women talk about people they don’t like. I don’t remember reading this much dense-packed hatred and misogyny outside of an Onion parody. But Tina Brown is dead serious.
The Monica Lewinsky confessional in Vanity Fair brings back a torrent of unfond memories of the appalling cast of tabloid gargoyles who drove the scandal. Remember them? Treacherous thatched-roof-haired drag-queen Linda Tripp, with those dress-for-success shoulder pads? Cackling, fact-lacking hack Lucianne Goldberg, mealy-mouthed Pharisee Kenneth Starr—the whole buzzing swarm of legal, congressional and gossip industry flesh flies, feasting on the entrails. And, of course, hitting “send” on each new revelation that no one else would publish, the solitary, perfectly named Matt Drudge, operating in pallid obsession out of his sock-like apartment in Miami.
That is undiluted bile by someone who managed to get a job running Newsweek into the ground losing $100 million in the process.
And what is a sock-like apartment?
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