S.E. Cupp’s Diary: Return from the Hamptons

S.E. Cupp Contributor
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Well it was a fabulous weekend in the Hamptons, where I’m usually loathe to go without my shotgun. But friends had a party and to the party you must go. It did not disappoint — a spirited game of whiffle ball (I got two hits and two strike outs — yes, I pitched), an excruciatingly long game of beer pong with Bill Schulz, swimming and frolicking in the grass. It was not without incident, however, as I left with 17 mosquito bites on my lower legs. I shaved my legs the next morning and my razor thought it was doing moguls at the Nagano Olympics. I looked like a leper, and that’s not leperist — a leper would have heartily agreed.

I also managed to read a book! Always a triumph, carving out a few hours to read a book cover-to-cover fills me with totally undeserved self-satisfaction. It wasn’t Ulysses or anything, but David Nicholls’s novel “One Day,” which visits the same day a year in the lives of two fun-loving Brits, Emma and Dexter, over twenty years. If you like Nick Hornby, you won’t be disappointed. Well, actually, if you like Nick Hornby, you’ll be a little disappointed.

Wrote a column for the Daily News, in which I gently derided the president for appearing on The View. While the coos and love pats from Sherri and wisecracks from Joy are sure to please, why not grow a pair and do Jerry Springer? At least then we’d get some pushback. And maybe a fight or two. But the chastising comments runneth over, predictably. I’d like to take a moment to answer a few:

“What Junior High School paper did the Daily News hire this moron from? I didn’t vote for Obama, but he’s smart enough to go where the voters tune in. Maybe THAT’S what bothers this twit. Go back to school and get an education.”

I didn’t write for my junior high school paper. I was too busy robbing liquor stores and stealing hubcaps with my posse, the Rusty Scuppers.

“Now go brush your two teeth and renew your subscription to “Racists Weekly” while the adults with intelligence speak.”

I don’t care if you think I’m racist. I just care that you follow me on Twitter. Incidentally, it’s “Racism Weekly.”

“S E Cupp. How much did the party of NO pay you to trash the President? Instead of trying to focus on him appearing on a 30 minute talk show you need to spend more time reading all of his accomplishments since he became President. What does S.E stand for – Stupid Editorial?”

I wish the party of NO paid me to trash the President! Best. Job. Ever!

“What a self-righteous, pompous, and ignorant article. I feel bad that I wasted 2 minutes of my life reading this junk.”

You feel bad? I had to write the thing. Two hours I’ll never get back.

“Oh MAN what rote right-wing claptrap from another empty-headed naysayer. B***h should do something with more socially-redeeming value. Like have a daisy chain with Coulter & Malkin. These fools will be the death of us.”

Ooh, what’s a daisy chain?! Sounds delicious. B***h is intrigued.

“Mrs Cupp looks like a psycho from her picture above.”

How dare you? I’m not married.

And finally, like many of you, I’ve been thinking about this Journolist controversy. To me, the most startling revelation isn’t that the liberal media is fixed, but that the liberal media is so needy. When did journalists become such joiners? I’m new to this business, but I thought journalists were supposed to be rebellious individualists, loners and recluses who were as likely to join Alcoholics Anonymous as they were some after-school club where they sit around talk about their feelings. As a conservative columnist, there is nothing less appealing to me than joining a conservative journalists’ listserv, where we all talk about how we’re going to do our jobs. If you need affirmation of your opinions, you shouldn’t be publishing them.