Her useless brain vomit:
“I WANT a fatwa. I used to see Salman Rushdie in the Sky Bar in L.A. He wasn’t in hiding; he became world-renowned for his fatwa. So why can’t I get a fatwa? Don’t they read my stuff?”
Jen and I, having avoided the ruffians at Sky Bar for a little over forever, can’t confirm as to whether or not Rushdie or Coulter have ever actually bid their respective ways past the doorman to drink 12-dollar mojitos in the mock-Moroccan poolside setting, so that will have to remain unconfirmed.
One thing, however, is for sure: Although Ann Coulter probably deserves a death edict, nobody actually reads her stuff.
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