Sheryl Crow

As usual, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are striking whilst the iron is cold. By now, everyone this side of Rosie O’Donnell’s midriff has waxed intemperate about the recent antics of Sheryl Crow. Ms. Crow, a “musician” of no recognizable merit, has attempted to jumpstart her flagging career by taking on a political edge.

To wit, Ms. Crow, along with a middle-aged wife of a “Seinfeld” producer, has embarked on a much-ballyhooed “Rock Against Global Warming Tour,” or some such. You know: She’s trying to corner the whole global warming shtick as a counterpoise to Bono’s Only-I-Care-About-African-Poverty blitz. Pretty smart, we’d say.

Ah, but Ms. Crow hasn’t been smart in everything she’s done of late. In fact, Ms. Crow—as everyone knows—recently endured a heated (if you will) exchange with Karl Rove. This, naturally, sent the conservative press into paroxysms of rage: How dare you mess with St. Karl!

Frankly, dear reader, we’re not that worried about the guy whom dimwitted lefties call “Bush’s Brain.” We have a hunch that he can fend for himself.

Rather, we find sundry other things about Sheryl Crow irksome. In fact, picking a nonsensical tiff with Mr. Rove is amongst the only things Sheryl Crow has done that doesn’t bother us.

We mean, come on: Have you ever heard a Sheryl Crow song? The woman seems able to warble somewhere around three different notes. Her talent’s about as impressive as Verne Troyer’s package. If he were Asian.

And the songs themselves? Pure, unadulterated garbage. “Are You Strong Enough To Be My Man?” Well, yeah: As long as you’re strong enough to stop singing. You no-talent bimbo.

Further, we don’t much care for moral advice handed out by a singer best known for crooning the line “I like a good beer buzz early in the morning.” Horribly overrated non-talent, heal thyself.

Yeah, we don’t much care for a pathetic pop-singer famous for making some sort of a clothing deal with Tommy Hilfiger turning around and getting all preachy on us. For crying out loud, Sheryl (if we may call you by your Christian name): The best thing you ever did was bag Lance Armstrong for a while.

Now that was a real coup: A preternaturally untalented pop-star shacking up with an impressively dedicated athlete. How long was that going to last?

Still, despite our understandable loathing for Ms. Crow, we have a deal for her: If she immediately ends her music career, we’ll use as little toilet paper as she sees fit. Sure, it won’t be that comfortable, but we think it’s well worth the price.