My default action is to lie down and idly surf the web via my tablet. If, for instance, I have nothing active to do, and yet I am awake, then that is what I'll do.
Now and then I come across some real pearlers.
Enter Midge Decter. A somewhat older lady, for she still lives, this deliciously Bond villain named conservative is also a prolific author. It seems, for the most part, her books are anti-Feminist screeds—though I admit I am basing that solely on the titles.
Any-hoo, in addition to decrying women who wear pant suits, Midge likes to salute good American heroes. Heroes that she knows, intimately.
And the man she has chosen to laud? To gift to the world a panegyric that not only praises the man's intellect but the the fact he possesses very essence of manliness?!
It's Donald Rumsfeld! And, even more deliciously, the book was written back in 2004. Which was of course just as everything went to complete and utter shit.
Here's a taste.
'Simpering... fawning.... worshipful... grotesque... deranged... a few of the adjectives that immediately come to mind upon finishing this book, "Rumsfeld: A personal portrait" by Midge Decter.'
Gold. I'm half tempted to get it just to see how truly bad this book is.