When Wonkette Stops Being Not-Funny, I'll Start Not-Writing About Her

But that day looks a long way off.

Wonkette is multitalented, by which I mean she is capable of being not-funny in a variety of formats. One of her favorite not-funny japes is to analyze the latest asinine warblings from chicbrit Tina Brown and "translate" their actual meanings.

Content Warning. Contains tasteless humor at Wonkette's expense.

This whole process is somewhat surreal; it's like watching one retard correct another retard on the correct pronunciation of "genre." Not to get all postmodern on you, but it's all very meta; one person with nothing to say but who thinks herself clever is deconstructing a very similar person with nothing to say but who thinks herself clever.

If Tina Brown's next column is about Maureen Dowd's last column, and then Wonkette deconstructs that column, I think the very fabric of the universe might begin to unravel due to the effects of a gravity-ripping singularity of ironic vapidity.

It's like masturbating to the thought of yourself masturbating. Sure, it's kind of fun to inject a little postmodern reiteration into onanism, but honestly, what's the point?

At any rate, here's my interpretation of Wonkette's latest interpretation of Tina Brown.

What Tina Says:

One of Ronald Reagan's unsung achievements is that he saved Vanity Fair.

What Wonkette Says Tina Means By This:

I am completely high.

What Wonkette Means By This:

I should see my gynecologist. Is it normal for one's genitals to smell like feet?

...

What Tina Says:

By March 1985, I had been editor in chief for a year, but [it]. . . was still in the throes of a severe identity crisis. . . Hoping for a deus ex machina, we got a president ex machina.

What Wonkette Says Tina Means By This:

The world revolves around me.

What Wonkette Means By This:

On the other hand, how can I be sure the problem isn't actually with my feet? Maybe they're the culprits.

...

What Tina Says:

At 6 p.m. March 20, 1985, I showed up at the White House with Harry Benson, the excitable Scottish photographer with toilet-brush hair who talks so much and works so fast he has managed to get six presidents to give up human moments of syndication gold for his camera.

What Wonkette Says Tina Means By This:

Elaborate but nonsensical metaphors will help stretch out this slim anecdote to fill an entire column.

What Wonkette Means By This:

I can't believe I get paid to type up my moronic little observations while I watch Cop Rock on Trio.

Barbara Bosson looks like she should have a big rack, but she doesn't. She shares that quality with Kathleen Turner.

Can I convince Nick Denton to pay me to write an entire 'nother blog on that subject? I'll have to get a friend to write me up a business plan.

...

What Tina Says:

"I love this song, honey," she said. "Let's dance." Her co-star replied with a line that might have been written for any number of vintage B movies: "We can't keep the president of Argentina waiting, Nancy."

What Wonkette Says Tina Means By This:

It surprises even me how easily I am impressed by celebrity.

What Wonkette Means By This:

I should shower up and head out to Georgetown. I hear that Michael "The Shield" Chiklis is going to be filming a PSA near The Third Edition. I'd like to see if he'll sign my ass.

...

What Tina Says:

The Reagans' moment of gaiety on the cover was a kiss of life for Vanity Fair. Coming when America was emerging from a long recession, the dancing presidential couple seemed to epitomize the buoyancy of American expectation. Reagan's theatricality always resonated that way. It was an instinctive collusion between imagery and national mood.

What Wonkette Says Tina Means By This:

I would make an excellent minister of propaganda.

What Wonkette Means By This:

Let me just wrap this post up so I can get back to the Sister, Sister marathon on the We Network. And then maybe I can see if Duane Reade carries some sort of feminine-spray Tinactin.