Greetings All: I write to respond to the recent posts and also to introduce myself a bit as I am new to the list. First, if anyone would understand Anne Coulter (hereinafter referred to as 'A-Cou' because writing her name is the fourth leading cause of dyspepsia among mammals) it would be Mark Twain. I can well imagine him smiling, only very slightly of course, under his mustache and noting that yet another improvident and mentally impoverished huckster had come forward, spewing half-turned invectives, in order to sell some books, to make a lowly yet famous name for herself. Twain would likely note that she'd obviously been born to be a small-fortuned-no-account that would otherwise be engaged in endless monologues perched, none too daintily, on the cracked vinyl of a well-worn bar stool in some nameless, dreary establishment that would rapidly be emptying of any other patrons. Mr. Twain would have understood A-Cou very well and probably not deigned to notice her at all in any public way. Those that have noted the "media" all a-gog over her barfly pronouncements would do well to recall the unpleasant fact that dread publisher, terror-alert network and gory newspaper are all basically owned by the same folks that want to also make a buck off of A-Cou's tepid sensationalism. They're all in it together, turning upside down the lowest common denominators and shaking all the change out of their pockets. A-Cou certainly affronts anyone with memory, dignity or imagination by drawing any comparisons between the august Twain and her disgust self. However, it all gives me a small delighted cause wonder something - would Twain be able to have resisted such a ripe target, one that when taken down, would do not only the nation a high service but also raise the intelligence and dignity of the whole planet in the process? If my memory serves me this evening, I seem to recall him writing a rather cuss-laced letter to an editor and signing it William Dean Howells. I can well imagine him taking the time to at least anonymously pamphlet this A-Cou over with a couple of pages of self-leveling prose fired off with a decent dose of fulminating cotton. Or perhaps Mr. Blab or even good-natured Josh would have made an appearance. (Blab would be too high a caliber to shoot such a small thing, so perhaps Josh would be more appropriate with his slingshot.) I can also well imagine a nice wood-cut print of A-Cou, with perhaps a dull reptilian face, headed for the apparition of light over the black lake she's already running full speed toward. Whatever the case or opinions may be, though, I'm glad to be here. My name is B. Adrian van der Wel, I was graduated from Sarah Lawrence College slightly over a decade ago with an M.F.A. and if my house were to catch fire right now, I'd leave this email, grab my 29-volume set of The Oxford Mark Twain, go outside and commence to read until the fire was put out. I hope to enjoy everyone's acquaintance, good company and look forward to reading and learning more here. Until sooner I remain Yours cordially, B. Adrian van der Wel, who is often called Adi.