Ann Coulter, the infamous GOP pundit, weighs 95 pounds. The tough blonde right-winger takes insults without tears and slashes back without mercy. Her monologues are extremely politically incorrect and last January at the Buffalo Bar my friend Jamie Parker said, “I think she talks dirty in bed.”

“She’s a Paris Hilton wannabe.” Ann Coulter is an agent provocateur for the GOP, but mostly for herself, since she is an exhibitionist of extremes, who after 9/11 suggested that the USA should invade the Muslim countries, kill all their leaders, and convert the survivors to Christianity.

“And I would be to, if I was a skinny blonde.” Jamie’s 54, skinny, and bears the scars of prison and drugs. He’s not bad-looking, but he would make a scary ka-toey.

“Don’t tell me that you fantisize having sex with her?” My last sexual encounter with a western woman was in 2003 and the gap had to be 2 years for Jamie.

His sheepish silence gave away his answer.

“She’s really skinny the way you like women.” Jamie was a self-proclaimed anarchist. He belonged to nothing and only obeyed his own laws. Ann Coulter slept at the other end of the political spectrum.

“She’s skinny alright, but old too.” The mother of my son weighed less than the ultra-right spokesperson.

42 kilos.

“Nothing wrong with old.” We were both over 50. “And if you were back in the States you’d be fighting through the crowd to get a shot at that stick pussy.”

It was my turn to be quiet.

“I’m not saying Ann Coulter is beautiful, but there’s something about her that gives me wood.”

“Really?” I more got the shivers.

“Looks at all these girls. You can’t have a conversation with them about Eisenhower, Rousseau, or baseball.” The Buffalo girls were lucky to have a 5th Grade education. “I’m not saying they’re stupid, but for once I’d like to be with someone who knows more than me.”

“Oh, so you only want to talk with Ann Coulter?”

“No, I want to have sex with her.”

“How?”

“What you mean, how?”

“What position, where, for how long, would you kiss, wear a condom, you know specifics.”

“I hadn’t really thought about that.”

“Well, I have.”

“And what would you do?”

I leaned over and whispered in his ear. We both looked over our shoulders at the Cave, Pattaya’s # 1 S and M club. Jamie shook his head and said, “You’re a bad man.”

“And I like it like that.”

Ann Coulter would too.