Anselmo Vineyards found a way to convince Yelp to delete my previous review on the grounds that wasn't based on my actual experience, so I now have to confess that I attended the Ann Coulter event on March 23, 2012 under an assumed identity. This is my story.
I was curious not so much about Coulter -- she's well-known as a pandering-to-the-yokels conservative -- a bomb-thrower who is fond of calling liberals "traitors" and jokingly calls for them to be hanged, which is what passes for conservative humor. No, I was there to see who in Shasta County would pay $400 to rub elbows with the Queen of Conservative Contempt and High Priestess of Pernicious Hate.
Okay......I admit that I also wanted to see Ann's amazingly ample Adam's apple in the cartilage-and-flesh -- but mainly it was about checking out her local audience.
I missed the introduction because the fake border guards at the make-believe border crossing that Anselmo Vineyards had established on the county road were a little sluggish letting attendees and people who lived further up the road through. Coulter gave a short talk, took some inane questions, provided brief answers in the form of snarky jokes, pimped her latest book, and was generally shielded from the fawning, inbred nouveau-riche high school drop-outs that make up Shasta County's Republican Party elite. She generally came off like a woman who had just shot a particularly degrading porn scene and was all, "Can I get paid now? I have other shit to do."
As with my past visit, the food, wine, and atmosphere were quite good. I was actually enjoying myself and was thinking that the hosts and attendees weren't all that bad, after all. That is, until one of my business acquaintances saw me and sang out, "Hey, Buzz! Buzz Fledderjohn! What the hell are YOU doing here?!"
Immediately, a large, angry-looking, bulbous- and flush-faced, sozzled-acting dude sitting at Coulter's table stands and starts screaming. "Fleddejohn!? Fledderjohn is here?! Chicken, have the guards drag that filthy peasant to the Chapel de la Revolución de Reverge!"
I soon learn that the angry guy is Reverge Anselmo and "Chicken" is Anselmo's wife. That's right. "Chicken." Swear to God, I am not making this shit up.
I immediately stand up and start walking toward my car, but two large goons intercept me and frog-march me to the infamous chapel, where Reverge, Chicken, and Ann Coulter have gathered, along with someone dressed like "The Gimp" from Pulp Fiction whom the Anselmos chillingly refer to as "The Event Coordinator." Oh, and one nervous-looking ewe. The Event Coordinator tells the goons to go outside and close the chapel doors behind them.
I'm not going to lie to you......what happened next was bizarre, frightening, and humiliating, which is why I left it out of the review that got deleted. Suffice to say that I don't want to see another skinny naked trannie or another big green tin of bag balm again in my life. I don't ever again (please, dear God) want to hear a woman repeatedly screaming with pleasure/pain, "pluck me harder!" And I don't ever again want to see (Oh! the humanity!) a large, purple-faced, angry man with a wad of $100 bills who.......well, never mind. Some imagery is so disturbing that it's best left unpainted in words. Just trust me on this -- the über-rich aren't like the rest of us. read more