Performance artist/”conservative pundit” Ann Coulter — whose previous bold works include “No Woman Should Be President” and “Screw You, Obama” — has debuted her newest piece, a brave and stunning indictment on American sports culture masked by a heightened and ridiculous tirade against soccer, on the Clarion-Ledger.
In her essay “Any Growing Interest in Soccer a Sign of Moral Decay,” the artist — who, by saying the most abominable things imaginable throughout her career, has continually and metaphorically held up a mirror to American society as if to say, “LOOK AT WHAT YOU ARE NOW” — begins:
I’ve held off on writing about soccer for a decade — or about the length of the average soccer game — so as not to offend anyone. But enough is enough. Any growing interest in soccer can only be a sign of the nation’s moral decay.
High drama, very courageous. The audience is captivated from the start.
There’s a reason perpetually alarmed women are called “soccer moms,” not “football moms.”
She’s confronting gender and — lest she let the audience grow complacent and comfortable — she will continue to confront it throughout.
Liberal moms like soccer because it’s a sport in which athletic talent finds so little expression that girls can play with boys. No serious sport is co-ed, even at the kindergarten level.
MEN. WOMEN. Is there a difference or is the difference something that we’ve created? Don’t be afraid to grapple with these ideas, Coulter urges.
Baseball and basketball present a constant threat of personal disgrace. In hockey, there are three or four fights a game — and it’s not a stroll on beach to be on ice with a puck flying around at 100 miles per hour. After a football game, ambulances carry off the wounded. After a soccer game, every player gets a ribbon and a juice box.
The American identity is controlled by SHAME and REWARD.
You can’t use your hands in soccer. (Thus eliminating the danger of having to catch a fly ball.) What sets man apart from the lesser beasts, besides a soul, is that we have opposable thumbs. Our hands can hold things. Here’s a great idea: Let’s create a game where you’re not allowed to use them!
A timeless philosophical debate: Is it man vs. nature or is man a part of nature? What separates us from the beasts we eat? Through a complicated web of meaningless arguments about sports, Coulter is subtly suggesting that the audience go vegan.
Soccer is like the metric system, which liberals also adore because it’s European. Naturally, the metric system emerged from the French Revolution, during the brief intervals when they weren’t committing mass murder by guillotine.
How do you break away from the past and not repeat the mistakes of your ancestors? Can you admire a movement that’s based in bloodshed? In war, are there truly any good men?
If Michael Jackson had treated his chronic insomnia with a tape of Argentina vs. Brazil instead of Propofol, he’d still be alive, although bored.
This, Coulter points out, is what happens when we make heroes out of pop stars and ignore the great thinkers of our time.
And finally:
If more “Americans” are watching soccer today, it’s only because of the demographic switch effected by Teddy Kennedy’s 1965 immigration law. I promise you: No American whose great-grandfather was born here is watching soccer. One can only hope that, in addition to learning English, these new Americans will drop their soccer fetish with time.
DO YOU TASTE BLOOD? THAT’S THE TASTE OF TENSION, ANGER, PATRIOTISM AND GUILT. THAT IS THE TASTE OF AMERICA.
Alongside creatives like Ai Weiwei and Marina Abramović, Coulter — by creating a character so stupid that she can’t be real — has become one of the greatest artists of our time. Look forward to her upcoming piece where she sits in a room at MoMA and makes unbroken eye contact with members of the public, all while praising George Zimmerman under her breath.
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