Posted on | March 5, 2012 | 79 Comments
Pamela Geller’s commentary about Sandra Fluke has caused a conniption on the part of — you guessed, didn’t you? — Charles Johnson. Mr. Jazzy McBikeshorts then got into a Twitter colloquy with the infamously boring James Wolcott, who decided to bring my name into it. A commenter informed me about this, prompting my Twitter reply:
News Flash: James Wolcott, who for years has had a Vanity Fair column nobody reads, now has a Twitter account nobody follows.
Because you have probably never heard of James Wolcott, it is necessary to explain that he is a cadaverous-looking college dropout who spent years as an unpopular media critic at the Village Voice before becoming an unpopular columnist at Vanity Fair. His knowledge of politics is extremely limited, as I noted in April 2008:
If James Wolcott is being paid by the word, his 3,700-word screed in the June issue of Vanity Fair is the Crime of the Century. The article is presented as describing the “vicious Clinton-versus-Obama rupture at Daily Kos” and thus an analysis of “a party-wide split” among Democrats, but it’s really nothing of the kind. In fact, it’s nothing at all. There is no reporting and very little that could be called research. Just massive paragraph after paragraph of florid prose.
So far as anyone can tell, Wolcott never ventures outside Manhattan and can’t be bothered to do any actual reporting. He has attempted to remain “relevant” by adding a blog that nobody reads to his duties at Vanity Fair, whose publisher apparently hired him as a favor to Wolcott’s wife, an editor for the magazine.
Wolcott’s most memorable contribution to the online world was a 2004 post in which he cheered for killer hurricanes — “Mother Nature’s fist of fury, Gaia’s stern rebuke” — to hit America, and thereby inadvertantly helped re-elect President Bush.
Last year, Wolcott somehow inveigled Doubleday into publishing his memoir. Nobody read that either, mainly because the author is so notoriously dull, but perhaps also because readers had been warned via a New York Times review that Wolcott “devotes 50 genuflecting pages” of his 258-page memoir to film critic Pauline Kael.
No, I’m not kidding. Really.
To the extent that most blog readers nowadays have any inkling who James Wolcott is, it’s because he has occasionally attempted to generate traffic by taking cheap shots at Jeff Goldstein of Protein Wisdom. Is anyone therefore surprised that a pompous nobody like Wolcott seems to have found a kindred spirit in Charles Johnson?
Readers may be wondering why I would devote an entire 500-word blog post to a couple of windbags like Johnson and Wolcott, but I mainly wanted to use this as an opportunity to point out that Pamela Geller is always interesting, which is why those irrelevant losers hate her so much.
Anyway, the two latest polls — one by Marist and another by Reuters — both show the Ohio Republican primary a dead heat, and I’m thinking about heading to Columbus for the big showdown, which should be a lot more fun than sitting around blogging about James Wolcott.
As to the absurd “controversy” that briefly permitted Wolcott to indulge his delusions of relevance, Rush Limbaugh explained his apology to Sandra Fluke today on the World’s Biggest Radio Show.