Rosie O’Donnell, Poetess

As anyone with a pulse well knows, our nation’s obsession with celebrity culture has run amok. Numerous channels on the television dial contain programs devoted to the private lives of various famous and semi-famous people. This may bode well for those who can do a passing imitation of Robin Leach, but we think it coarsens the culture.

Trolling around Al Gore’s World-Wide Web, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” found a perfect case in point. Undoubtedly you are aware of Rosie O’Donnell, the chunky comedienne who fashions herself an insightful political pundit. Thanks to her perch on the feculent women’s television program “The View,” Ms. O’Donnell has the opportunity to pontificate about all sorts of topics concerning which she is utterly uninformed.

This, we think, is the perfect example of our nation’s enabling of these celebrity nitwits. Thanks to all the attention paid to them, they feel as if they can make some sort of weighty contribution to American political discourse. Hence we endure the delusional nonsense of Alec Baldwin, Sean Penn, Tim Robbins, Rosie O’Donnell, et al.

Ah, but in Rosie’s case, it gets worse. An examination of Ms. O’Donnell’s “weblog” demonstrates that its author desperately wants to be a college freshman. We say this, dear reader, because Ms. O’Donnell’s “website,” in addition to offering various odds and ends, features her poetry.

Yeah, you read that correctly: Rosie O’Donnell composes poetry. And, from what we can tell, it’s a dead ringer for inept high school balladry.

Think that’s a bit harsh? Well, just check out this bit of doggerel, which Ms. O’Donnell has titled “Miami”:

so what happens
when u say the emperor has no clothes
the comb over goes ballistic
via phone to mr king

every minute
every day

i imagine it is interesting
as celeb feuds tend 2 b
so here r my thoughts

didnt watch
didnt u tube

i have no time 2 make art now
i am only off friday
which is never enuf
to detox

the pipes get full
bits of sludge
clog the flow

so tiny books
express in torn images
my inside

i was raised reading ms magazine
i remember the burning of bras
as women demanded equality
in unison

beauty pageants
where women were paraded around
judged valuable or not
by old white men
it is always old white men

they added a talent portion

and gave away college degrees
they evolved – beauty pageants
and eventually – nearly faded away
for good

remember the seventies

a young girl in nyc
meets a pimp
he cons her into a life of illusion
she works for him

no fun – no fucking – no future
she is owned
when she sneaks out –
to party the night away
he freaks

he roughs her up a bit
shames her in front of the others
teaches her to behave
for his own benefit

and just when we lost all hope
cagney and lacey showed up
they cuff the pimp
they free the girl

marybeth and christine
would never
be friends with a pimp

this is reality tv
like it or not
same same same
as vivi says

Wow: It’s almost enough to make you like Donald Trump, isn’t it? Personally, we savored the delicate transition from excoriating Mr. Trump’s beauty pageant to feminist hand wringing about prostitution. And surely the use of numbers for the word “to” is deliciously sophomoric.

Ms. O’Donnell may not be funny, but she sure is one heck of a poetess.

(Note: The crack young staff normally “weblog” over at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” where they are currently pondering the unfortunate fact that Randall Jarrell’s books of poetry must sit beside Jewel’s on the shelves of Barnes & Noble.)

Kissing cousins
Saddam Is Dead - Why That Matters