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Ann Coulter's Notes for the First Chapter of Treason

Mostly I was inspired to write this after I listened to 'Exhuming McCarthy' by REM. Remember to thank them in the introduction. Also, make sure to look up the word 'exhume' in the dictionary.

This always happens to me: I get this Great Idea for a book, and then they hire a ghostwriter. Some guy that nobody's ever heard of named William Safire. Now Bombay Sapphire, that's something I collaborate with! Of course, no one mentions the ghostwriter, ever, and on the cover it's just me and my size-four Prada dress. But why should I collaborate? There's no 'we' in Idea.

Liberals are just so stupid. When you raise taxes, you have to pay more money in taxes! And higher taxes support terrorism: it was such a sad tragedy when Richard Gere blew up those tall statues of Buddha in Afghanistan so that the Taliban would convert. The terrorists, and their treasonous liberal friends, want everyone running around giggling behind chadors. And who would watch 'Sex in the City' if all those girls were covered head to toe? I can't believe that Carrie Bradshaw gets all the hype. She's so untalented, and tell you the truth, I've never seen her column printed anywhere. And I sell books by the truckload. So why don't I get to be on Sex in the City? I'm skinnier than all of them put together.

I had the dream again, about Elliot Shapiro, my college advisor. Mr. Liberal College Professor Man, where are you now? Still breaking the hearts of freshman girls who adore you and clean your house and sleep with you and grade your papers while you smoke hand-rolled cigarettes and pump liberal trash into their fragile brains? Still driving that eighties Honda Civic? When I came out as a neoconservative — they just gave me a Mercedes SUV.

My martini's empty. One more, then start on the book. Here goes nothing:

The ontological debate over the McCarthy era focuses on a paradigm shift that accompanied the 1950's mind: was the anti-communist sentiment a result of post-war ennui, or rather an isolationist backlash couched in an ideological struggle?

Joe McCarthy is a total hero. First of all, he was Catholic, and if that is not the definition of prosecuted, I'm not sure what is. Second of all, he was handsome, and he drove a gunboat to fight Communists in World War Two, and he was the first Irish Catholic President, and it kept me up crying while I wrote this, thinking that he was assassinated, a young life cut short in the middle of his prime. Plus he was married to Jackie Onassis, who was a bunker buster of a babe, and she was so independent, keeping her name, and didn't she know how to dress!

Forget Joe McCarthy. The new McCarthyism is all about Jenny! It was so cool when she dyed her hair brunette, then switched back to being a blond. That is true American bravery. The two of us should start a talk show with Lizzie Grubman. The McLaughlin Group meets Baywatch.

I can't believe I agreed to write a book about this guy.

When you grow up in suburban Connecticut, you learn some things about freedom and tyranny, let me tell you. When I got my learner's permit at sixteen, my father would not let me drive the Benz, he made me drive a Buick that had been sitting in the driveway since Ronald Reagan used Contras to free the Iranian hostages. So imagine driving to school in that thing? I had to park nearby at the Seven Eleven and walk, I was so embarrassed.

I couldn't take it anymore, so I got totally apopleptic. I told my parents that I could drive wherever, whenever, whatever. The end result: Daddy surrendered the keys to the Benz, I was voted Prom Queen, and I trashed the car later that night in my very first DWI. That is a cherished freedom that needs to be protected.

I was just thinking, people run around complaining about the vast liberal media conspiracy. But the truth is, there is a vast right-wing media conspiracy. Now that's dripping with ironic.

It's so fun to get paid writing whatever you like! With my advance, I'm going to buy a pony. But if I don't get my own Barbie soon, Mattel will feel my wrath.

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