To everyone who's sent this little item to me since this afternoon (and by the way, this thing may hold the record for being spread virally faster than just about anything that's ever hit the net; it was everywhere in a matter of a couple of hours): Yes, I've seen it and no I don't have too much to say about it.
Gawker: I Had a One-Night-Stand with Christine O'Donnell/10.28.10
Gawker's officially the lowest rung on the yellow internet journalism ladder after going ahead and posting such prurient, relatively unreliable crap (which Denton could care less about because he and his unholy creation are now the center of a media feeding frenzy). And who really gives a damn if it's true anyway? So Christine O'Donnell may have gotten drunk and tried unsuccessfully to get laid three years ago? Jesus, I do that every Saturday night. I couldn't care less what O'Donnell or anybody else does in his or her -- or someone else's -- bedroom. She's an attractive woman; let her slap a hand over Jesus's mouth once in awhile so he can't complain and just have a little fun. It's not like there's even any schadenfreude to be mined from this because you had to figure that someone repressed enough to decry masturbation would be a goddamned sexual time-bomb.
Look, if it didn't happen, Christine O'Donnell should just shrug off the pictures and the story because, as Hitchens says, what can be asserted without evidence can be disproved without evidence. If it did happen -- hey, good for her. Either way, so what.
Besides, who's to say the story wasn't planted by her anyway? It's the perfect ploy to simultaneously humanize, martyrize and sexualize a candidate who for the most part has been portrayed as nothing but a prudish laughingstock.
Denton and Gawker just handed her the kind of sympathy she'd normally have to contract cancer to get -- five days before election day.
I mean, hell, even I can't help liking her a little bit right now. Although it could just be the ladybug costume. I'm into that sort of thing.
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