Blah blah Washington blah blah sex blah blah gadgetry

P.J. delivers a gentle smack-down upon Wonkette's novel. Typical bon mots:

I won't spoil the plot. There isn't one

and

Cox has wit and sense. Occasionally she uses them.

I don't know what it is about Wankette that makes me want to so render her nom de plum, but I suspect it has to do with the fact that she herself represents what her novel appears to be about. Her blog is fun for a day or two until you realize that she doesn't have anything to say. It's all schoolgirl giggling and taking joy in the word "tits". Nothing wrong with that in small doses, but absent anything of greater substance it becomes as interesting as bathroom stall graffiti; if one didn't know otherwise, one would swear it was scripted. I can't be the only one who made the "how appropriate" eye-roll when I discovered that her last name was Cox.

I mean, really, what shocking about there being sex, betrayal, and the banally vicious rythmns of the Circle of Access in Washington? Is this really making the scales drop from anyone's eyes? What is this, the Fifties?