Know Hope.

Indeed.

Well, I don’t want to call this a “false hope,” but anyone who couldn’t tell by, say, 1999 at the very latest that Paglia was basically an upscale Wingnut Froth Generator isn’t going to get any smarter now. I could understand her gig at Salon on the grounds that David Talbot thought she was kinda delightfully unpredictable and good for buzz. (The boys at Spy thought so too, in that magazine’s dreary final days.) But Talbot’s gone and Camille’s still around . . . no, there is no hope. No hope at all.