I suckered my beautiful wife into going to Borders today so I could acquire a copy of Virginia Postrel‘s The Substance of Style (and hey, look, it’s right next to Robert Putnam’s Bowling Alone, I’ll take one of those, too!).
Where what to my wondering-if-I-can-snag-another-book-before-Heather-finds-me eyes appear, but Heather (which meant I could not snag another book that I needed to put on my to-read shelves until 2012 or thereabout). And she’s carrying Laura Ingraham‘s Shut Up and Sing.
“You’ve got a book by Laura Ingraham!” I said.
“Who’s she?” Heather asked.
I could not explain to her that we conservatarian men have a special Hot Conservative Chick Sense that tingles to identify attractive women who think right. I mean, sure, sometimes we get false positives (like Ann Coulter–someone feed that woman, I think she’s going mad from hunger), but for the most part, we’re dead on.
Or maybe I heard her Ingraham’s radio show once.
Still, Heather bought a conservative screed on her own!
