S.E. Cupp’s Diary: NASCAR, edamame, and LKL

S.E. Cupp Contributor
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I wake up today and, per usual, turn on Fox, do some e-mailing, and peruse the headlines online. It’s a Cinnamon Toast Crunch morning, which bodes well, but I realize I’m deep in the midst of Conan/Leno fatigue. Die, story, die.

So, the geniuses of the Obama spin machine have decided the best way to deal with the Brown/Coakley Battle of Bunker Hill and palpable discontent among the citizenry is suddenly to market the president as a populist. Like the YouTube video of the auto-fellating walrus that was going around a couple weeks ago, this is a chance to watch a truly spectacular feat of acrobatics at work. I hope Axelrod and Gibbs try to co-opt the tea party movement so that Rachel Maddow and David Shuster are forced to find a polite way to admit the president is a tea-bagger.

Do an interview with CNN.com about the anti-Christian tropes in “The Book of Eli.” As I wrote this week in the Daily News, the movie reduces Christianity to two caricatures: Jimmy Swaggarts and Scott Roeders, frauds and fanatics. But to be perfectly honest, what bothered me most was the terribly miscast Mila Kunis (and her perfectly-coifed hair) as a post-apocalyptic child-warrior. It was like watching the cast of “High School Musical” perform “On the Waterfront,” and right at the film’s climax Zac Efron bursts into a song-version of “I Coulda Been a Contender!”

Snacking on edamame, I wonder what kind of impact, if any, listening to the Beastie Boys as an impressionable young girl had on me. I’m thinking specifically of lines like:

“Girls/All I really want is girls/And in the morning it’s girls/Cuz in the evening it’s girls/I like the way that they walk/And it’s chill to hear them talk/And I can always make them smile/From White Castle to the Nile.”

It’s not their influence on me as a woman I wonder about…but as a writer. That shit is gold.

Someone nearby is eating fried food. Suddenly my edamame seems like a woefully inadequate, pathetic, trendy legume.

John Edwards finally admits it: “The girl is mine.” Future d-bag politicians pay attention. The best time to admit the paternity of your girlfriend’s kid is right after a devastating earthquake, even if that means you have to wait two years for one. And picking up on a grossly underreported aspect of the decline and fall of the Edwards empire, Luke Russert tweets: “I knew Edwards had problems when I saw him before a debate in Gucci loafers sans socks and tight stone washed jeans. Not a political pro.”

I agree to be an avatar in this week’s Virtual March For Life. So where’s my Golden Globe, James Cameron?

I watch clips of Scott Brown’s descent on Washington. It’s like a coronation. Let’s remember that merely managing to “get elected”—even if seemingly against all odds—does not a leader make. After all, that’s the kind of misguided reasoning that landed Obama a Nobel Peace Prize 12 days into his first term. Brown is an engaging, qualified and impressive Senator-elect. And I think he’s the real deal. But before we rally ’round the leader with glassy-eyed visions of his name on a 2012 presidential ticket, let’s give him a chance to prove us all right first. I’m not suggesting Brown is some kind of “Scott-the-truck-driver” novelty act. But let’s see what the guy can do before we anoint him the Great Right Hope.

Grab coffee near my office with John O’Hara, who’s promoting his new book “A New American Tea Party.” I’m only a few pages in, but it’s great so far.

I tweet that I just got my new Tony Stewart gear for the start of the NASCAR Sprint Cup season on Feb. 14. And in response, someone thinks it important to note that Danica Patrick will be running a few Nationwide races this year, reminding me that I’m already sick of this storyline. Nothing against Danica, and kudos to NASCAR for what is probably going to be a brilliant marketing move, but the fact that she drives—and has a uterus—is only compelling if it’s 1904. Or present-day Saudi Arabia. Now, maybe if she had a prostate—or rolling pins for feet!—it would be a different story.

Read that Arlen Specter told Michele Bachmann to “act like a lady” during a heated radio debate. I wish she’d responded, “I’ll act like a lady if you’ll act like a man.” Alas, she’s far classier than I.

I prepare for Larry King Live later tonight. The first time I did the show a conservative colleague who shall remain nameless told me to ask Larry what it was like to interview Oliver Cromwell. Needless to say, I did not take his advice. But now it’s all I can think about whenever I’m on. I have to consciously tighten my lips around my teeth to prevent this from escaping my mouth. If you ever see me pursing my lips on that show, this is why.

My mother tells me that “The Blind Side” is one of those movies that really makes you want to be a better person. My mom’s adorable, but for some reason, I no longer want to see “The Blind Side.” Instead, I buy tickets to see Ricky Gervais at Madison Square Garden. Again. “I froze your tears, and made a dagger…” It doesn’t get much better than that … .