February 28, 2006
Harry Connick Jr.: America’s Answer to the Danish Muhammad Cartoons
As some of you may know, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” moonlight as Sunday essayists for a fancy-pants “website” called Wizbang. We guess that means we “daylight,” not “moonlight.” Anyway, this offers us the opportunity to take a break from the moronic commentary we offer on our “website,” and offer moronic commentary on someone else’s.
No big deal, eh? Well, our latest Wizbang column appears to have caused a minor tizzy. In said piece, we announced the founding of a “Keep Harry Connick Jr. Acting Foundation”—a non-profit organization dedicated to landing this ersatz crooner on film and stage in order to stop him from recording his teeth-grindingly horrid music.
If memory serves, we referred to Mr. Connick as a “retarded Frank Sinatra.” Not to be outdone, we ridiculed his thespianic talents as well, claiming that we’ve seen better acting from Joran van der Sloot.
Pretty typical fare, we figured. Well, no: Soon sundry deeply offended readers offered a number of angry responses. In these here United States, it seems, you can make fun of the president, you can ridicule the Congress, but you better keep your darn hands off Saint Connick. People love crappy lowbrow music, and they’re willing to fight you over it. So there, punk.
Surely our favorite response, penned by a fellow who goes by the disquieting sobriquet “Moon Monkey,” was the following:
I have been following some of your posts lately. I wouldn’t attempt to read all of what your “crack young staff” offers because your opinions are mostly the collective thoughts of mindless twits.
More than anything else, your commentary lacks any depth of knowledge, class or experience. Consequently, what you guys think of as insignificant writing is exactly why there is a generation gap. If left to expound or rant, it would be abundantly clear to all why the young garner little respect when it comes to intellectual capacity.
Why Kevin accepts your vapid commentary and continues to invite your writings is a mystery. And in conclusion, I suggest you submit copy to the folks at Clearasil because you certainly have nothing to say…and you sure can’t write.
Priceless, isn’t it? It almost makes us wish we accepted “comments” on our own humble “weblog.” Wouldn’t it be lovely if all our feedback came from enraged Harry Connick devotees?
Ah, yes: Moon Monkey sure has stung us. As far as we’re concerned, he’s proven one of the great questions of the age: “why the young garner little respect when it comes to intellectual capacity.” And so well written!
We wish that Mr. Monkey would teach us a thing or two about great prose. After all, his missive demonstrates that he is a keen literary stylist—that “Clearasil” line is a real winner. We’re so sorry that we had to upset such a genius by ridiculing his favorite pussy pseudo-jazz singer.
Naturally, given the angry lowbrows who frequent Wizbang, you can bet that our next column will steer clear of these kinds of delicate topics.
Perhaps we’ll rip on Phantom of the Opera next time. That ought to go well.
