There are six things that the LORD hates, seven that are an abomination to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil, a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among brothers.

— Proverbs 6:16-19

Dear Bill O’Reilly,

as a happily single woman, I entreat you to stop pretending that you understand my motivations, fears, desires, and appetites. I assure you that, though considered part of a demographic, my wants, needs, desires, and expectations are solely my own.

I do not wish for, nor do I expect, handouts from my government, or my parents, or from a potential mate, sugar daddy, or one-night stand. I do, however, wish for workplace equality, properly labeled food so that I can steward my own health, and for the government to stay out of my bedroom and away from my body.

I am sorry you mis-interpret my wants and needs so grossly, but, as you strategically ignore facts, yell loudly over reasonable discourse, and appear to be tacitly unable to listen, it is understandable that you would never even to care what anyone, friend or foe, has to say.

Perhaps it is because you cannot hear.

As my grandmother used to say, “getting old sucks.”

Anyhow, one thing’s for certain. I’m a know-nothing nobody.

But, if I’m a know-nothing nobody, so are you.


Dear Bill O’Reilly,

Thank you so much for trying to understand, through deep investigative reporting, why single, drunk, slutty nurses and kittens hoping to get laid on Hallowe’en vote the way that they do.

It might be useful to turn the mirror on your demographic as well.

For instance, I would like to know why wealthy, aging, white men with plummeting testosterone and failed marriages seem to hate women and everyone else so much. It might be a nice exercise to remind yourself that you know virtually nothing about humankind and that your willfully ignorant, extraordinarily limited, commerce-motivated talking head of a persona exists in its own bubble in an alternative universe.

I know it’s unfair to generalize about you and your demographic. I am certain that you are right that a approximately 40 percent of American women (the percentage of currently  single females in the U.S.), all want the same thing, which is for you, Bill O’Reilly, to personally pay for our birth control.

Well, I’m not really part of that group, since I’ve decided to be a cougar instead. Or is it a spinster? I lose track.

Anyhow, one thing’s for certain. I’m a cliche.

That’s for sure.

But, if I’m a cliche, you’re a cliche, too.


Dear Bill O’Reilly,

So, I’ve been doing a little research, about five minutes worth, on what it was Sandra Fluke wanted to say to the House Oversight and Government Reform Committee earlier this year.

It wasn’t that she wants you, or me, to pay for her birth control and, as you put it, her lifestyle choice. It’s that she wants her private insurance company, you know, the one she pays thousands of dollars to every quarter, to include birth control in their coverage of their female clients. Seeing as the medical industry complex views pregnancy as an illness, wouldn’t birth control logically fall into the category of preventative medicine?

Regardless, when asked by my conservative friend during our pressing conversation about health coverage if I wanted to pay for Sandra Fluke’s birth control, I answered honestly, that I’d rather pay for her birth control than her baby.

Apparently, as a single person, I pay a higher tax rate. I also subsidize the American families who take tax credits and write-offs for having children. So, in essence, I do pay for other people’s’ babies. Somehow, despite this disparity, my demographic, according to your demographic, wants the government to sugar-daddy our existence.

That bit of research took me an additional three minutes to find.

I am surprised that an intellectual giant such as yourself, with all the tools you have doing research for you, could not distinguish between government aid and private insurance companies.

Oh, Bill. I’m just a stupid hairdresser.

But, wow, if I’m stupid, you’re stupid, too.

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