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Not as bad as Cheney; still clearly worse than Ed Gein

[ 31 ] March 13, 2012 |

Now and then, responsible bloggers revisit old viewpoints and test them against a fresh stable of facts. This was an especially useful exercise, for example, after the war in Iraq had muddled on for half a decade; in this presidential election year, perhaps we’ll have a similar chance to revisit the campaign of 2008 and measure the strengths and weaknesses of our ancient predictions and preliminary evaluations of Barack Obama. On the internet, we must first be accountable — and unsparingly so — to ourselves.

About five years ago, I demonstrated through unimpeachable, crystalline internet science that Jewel Kilcher could easily be numbered among the worst human beings our nation has ever pinched through its sod-packed colon. This was long before the Whitney Houston Obituary Wars, but long-time LGM readers may remember the discomfort this important (if objectively uncontroversial) truth caused some of our transient commenters, who denounced me for squashing the dreams of young people who wanted nothing more than to scribble shite poetry like their heroine, or for adopting a grossly undeserved tone of disdain toward someone who’d enlivened the souls of millions with her irony-free acoustical earnestness.* And ever since, various japesters in my life have made certain that I’m never wanting for updates on Jewel’s personal life and inspiring professional accomplishments. (Did you know that she got hit by a fire truck last year? Well, you would if you were me!)

So today’s mostly-non-Jewel-related e-mail barrage included this from the Huffington Post, wherein we learn that Jewel, unlike any other artist in human history, used to not have a lot of stuff. We also learn that because “she has not forgotten what it’s like to be hungry,” she’s partnered up with ConAgra to defeat food insecurity — a goal the company will surely achieve once it’s finished blowing up its workers, gouging the Palin family, or making sure Americans are getting enough nutritious Salmonella in their diets. Even worse, I have come to learn via Google Books that ConAgra was once — and perhaps still is — “almost entirely run by homosexuals and pedophiles” and that ConAgra executives have long been central actors in a gruesome, freemasonic Nebraskan underworld that uses children as drug couriers and ass candy.

Don’t be fooled, people.


* After LGM migrated from Blogger and we said our final, tearful fuck yous to JS-Kit, we lost that thread among many others — or so we thought. Fortunately, the Jewel Wars produced a few moments of such high comedy that we occasionally linked back to the original discussion, which I stumbled across this morning almost by accident. Behold.


Comments (31)

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  1. Erik Loomis says:

    God, I am so glad that comment thread still exists.

    Also, you still owe Lee Atwater an apology for putting him in the same class as Jewel.

  2. Walt says:

    It’s because you ruined the finest blog series of all time, Worst American Birthdays. The category of Worst is sacred, man.

  3. elm says:

    Ah, good times. Thanks for finding that thread, though it demonstrates once again that, even though I swear I was reading it in real time, I failed to comment in it. Sigh. I must be more prolix in my commenting going forward so I can prove how cool I am when some thread gets talked about a decade hence.

  4. latinist says:

    Well, I suppose there’s nothing really wrong with mocking bad art, but it always tends to bring out the contrarian in me. So, after briefly poking around the internet for Jewel’s poetry*, I find that I kind of like some of it — certainly it’s not as bad as I expected, or as your example from the older post (which, I grant, is really an amazing achievement in terribleness). I quite like “Me,” a meditation on identity and change, and “Las Vegas” is a clever and interesting enough image to support the five lines she gives it. I encourage everyone to go check them out.

    *yes, your post inspired me to read Jewel’s poetry. And now I’m considering buying a copy of “Night Without Armor.” Thanks!

  5. Manju says:

    denounced me for squashing the dreams of young people who wanted nothing more than to scribble shite poetry

    Her poetry was not shiite. It had a definite warm, sunni feel.

  6. cheap wino says:

    Brings to mind a great TV Funhouse from SNL several years back:

  7. Malaclypse says:

    Between Jewel and today’s Kaus-blogging, I feel like I have returned to the heady days of my early-middle-age. It only lacks Donalde driving by with, in no particular order and with no actual context, BWAHAHAHA!, fuckers!, WINNING!, or anti-semites! to make my day complete.

  8. The Golux says:

    My loathing of Con-Agra has to do with their purchase of the Trio’s (of North Boston) product line, then eliminating every Trio’s product. This meant that the best pasta sauce I’ve ever tasted is no longer available. Nothing like big agribidness to fuck up a good thing.

  9. commie atheist says:

    Best comment by far:

    Jewel’s talent, no matter how much you disparage it, has made thousands, and millions of people happy. That’s a pretty good accomplishment for anyone. And what have you done? Established for a crowd of hundreds that Ann Althouse is a moron? Congratulations, you should be proud of yourself.

    Personally, if establishing the fact that Ann Althouse is a moron is all you’ve ever done, I think you guys deserve the Medal of Freedom.

  10. Njorl says:

    Hobo Jim >> Jewel.

  11. Anderson says:

    It’s bullshit like this post that keeps people from expressing themselves.

    Good! People who express themselves in bad verse need to STFU and just whine on blogs like the rest of us.

  12. Halloween Jack says:

    I don’t care how many dreams of aspiring poetasters were fed into the woodchipper that dark day, it was totally worth it for this comment of coozledad’s:

    I had a poetry teacher who couldn’t write two lines without mentioning sex she’d had with some guy on a granite formation. She had a decent voice, and she tried to set the scene up differently in each poem, but there always seemed to be that granite formation.That panting.

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