The Artful Sneer

I have a fatal weakness for the artful sneer. Expressions of scorn and disgust don't have to be all that insightful, if they're expressed in elegant and memorable prose. Take the opening sentence on one of James Wolcott's latest:

The Terri Schiavo soap opera, with Senator Frist guest-starring in the role of Dr. Bob and unveiling the uncanny ability to make a long-distance telepathic diagnosis without using his mind, shows yet again how sentimentality and brutality are the Doublemint twins of American culture, ripe for exploitation.

Stuff like this makes me giggle with delight even if it's just a colorful way of saying "Bill Frist is an asshole." Same with his description of Mr. Ethics himself, Tom DeLay:

I speak of course of the Bugman Thugman. A man who uses an insecticide inhaler to psych himself up to trash his opponents and defile the rules that don't apply to an ubermensch with slush funds pouring out of his enema bag. A man who would wheel Terry Schiavo to home plate for the Washington Nationals home opener if he thought there was any political upside to it.

They ought to have a Pulitzer Prize category for this sort of thing -- y'know, the Year's Best Expression of Loathing and Contempt in Print -- if not The Annual Sneer Awards. So many people deserve this treatment these days, we ought to do all we can to encourage it.