Hating Peggy Noonan

For many years I have been unable to tolerate Peggy Noonan. (And there are plenty of other bloggers who seem to share my feelings.) Her fatuous and nauseatingly ill-conceived books epitomize the Washington insider tradition of retelling history with one’s own minor-functionary self as the Center of the Known Universe and the Hinge of History. She has turned her minor brush with power into a cottage industry, offering so much “wisdom” about American politics and American culture that she has apparently retained none for herself. Seeing her on television is almost painful for me; as much as I despite Ann Coulter, at least she has the courage of her our essential nastiness. Noonan is the saccharine fake who likes to talk about how nice and sweet she is to dogs and children. But she is known in Beltway circles as a notoriously bitchy and driven climber.

Apparently, her efforts to bask in the reflected glory of Dead Reagan and claim for herself all of his Great Communicator qualities were finally too much for the (ahem) Real Insiders (you know, the people who really made it happen). While I realize there is a little irony in the climbers climbing over each other to dance on top of the casket, and of course hate linking to NewsMax, I do love the scent of venom that drips from this little attack piece on Noonan. The most damning bit: “For all her self-promotion, the facts are that she never wrote many major presidential speeches and had quite limited access to the president.” And apparently the other speechwriters wouldn’t even let her sit with them at the funeral. (Link via Atrios.)