In a profoundly immoral effort to boost its Internet traffic, Telegraph.co.uk unveiled its list of the 50 most influential political pundits in America. Of the 20 names listed so far, I am not one of them.
However, David Gergen is. If you don't know who David Gergen is, imagine a sock dipped in flesh, gargling on a gerbil.
Also on the list: Howard Kurtz, a walking hairpiece.
And Mark Shields, who was a mime back in the '70s with Lorene Yarnell.
Paul Begala is also there, a giant thumb with sad eyes.
And what’s a list without James Carville, a skull on a lollipop, possessing a vocal delivery that suggests something smaller and far more alien lives inside his mouth.
I’m sorry, but this is pure discrimination. If you look at the men, you'll find that they all have something in common: they're ugly.
Is it my fault, as a pundit, that I am handsome, possessing a healthy head of hair and can bench press at least two houseboys, depending on the amount of amyl nitrate I have burning through my nostrils?
We live in an age where we can't accept our pundits unless they look like pundits. This "pundism" has created a glass ceiling for handsome gents like me whose only strategy now is to go bald and wear ankle garters.
But is this right? Truthfully, I'd rather be the Nelson Mandela of punditry and stand up for what I believe in, than succumb to this disease of homeliness that inflicts these so called influencers.
Call me a rebel, call me Rosa Parks, but don’t you ever call me Paul Krugman.
And if you disagree with me, then you sir, are worse than Jeffrey Toobin.