I was going to stay away from this salient filth, and I still have absolutely no intention of picking it up, let alone reading it, but I wanted to share a few bits from this review at The New York Times.  It’s scathing.  I love it!

I know Mary Cheney’s a sell-out for her papa.  She’s a conservative automaton with no identity, no spirit, no compassion, no sense of community, and no intelligence.  That is the main reason I have no intention of setting my eyes upon her drivel for any purpose other than to watch it tank in sales and burn in the rubbish pile.  Otherwise, no thanks.  I’d sooner eat dirty cat litter.

But let’s not forget this wonderful review.  It confirms everything I suspected and had heard about her book.  Rightfully, it smacks her around a bit and calls her to the carpet about her sexual hypocrisy and betrayal.  The book is sorrowfully nothing more than Republican propaganda and a complete failure by the theoretically most powerful gay Republican on the planet.  Like so many Democrats before her who gave us “don’t ask, don’t tell” and lip service or betrayal on the gay marriage question, not to mention historical events aplenty to demonstrate empty promises and no real progress on gay issues like equality, Mary Cheney wastes her political capital by pretending the sexuality culture war isn’t truly critical and certainly doesn’t warrant real action.

Reading the title of Mary Cheney’s new memoir, with its faint echo of Diana Ross’s rousing feminist anthem “It’s My Turn,” one might hope to find some impassioned declaration of self from the author…

Not a chance. Though Cheney grudgingly affirms here that yep, she’s gay, the identity she sketches is far less stirred-up sister of Sappho than Daddy’s good little girl. Her book is neither a manifesto of personal liberation nor an analysis of the gay marriage wars, but a buttoned-up account of a life spent barnstorming for Republicans, most specifically during the two most recent presidential elections.

Two words: BOR.  RING.  Oh, and disappointing as well.

In typical style for losers, she spits in the face of every gay in America (and around the globe for that matter) by addressing her sexuality with a cursory abandon punctuated by attacks on liberals for things the rest of us inflicted with Teh Gay wouldn’t and didn’t blink twice at.

Late in the book, she describes hissing a furious expletive at the TV when Senator John Kerry referred to her as a “lesbian” in the third 2004 presidential debate (she prefers referring at arm’s length to “my sexual orientation,” as if it were an intransigent military position, perhaps, or a pesky shadow she just can’t shake). She was angry, among other reasons, she writes, because “he had used the word ‘lesbian,’ instead of the more common and politically neutral term ‘gay.’ ”

When exactly did the word “lesbian” become a scathing insult, alongside that other once-glorious, classically derived seven-letter L-word: liberal?

What the fuck does she think she is if not a lesbian?  And is “lesbian” somehow inappropriate?

Oh, and Mary, you’re an idiot.  Either you get a different version of Teh Gay Newsletter for Queerer Living, or the rest of us actually read the damn thing and understood that a dictionary must always be our friend.  A lesbian, dear, is a homosexual woman, a gay female.  Please, go look it up.  Now.

Had they called you “that faggot bitch” or “carpet-munchin’ whore” or something similar, I would be outraged and in full agreement.  But that’s not what happened.  They called you a lesbian.  Honey, you are a lesbian.  What’s the problem?

But we already suspected she was not right given the vacuous content of her novel.  The NYT wastes no words in saying as much.  It’s a wonderful thing:

Only in passing does Cheney — who has a longtime companion, Heather Poe — confront the inherent contradiction of working for a party whose attitude toward homosexuality runs the gamut from mild intolerance to out-and-out hostility. And considering he is in theory only two phone calls away, the private voice of President Bush — who enthusiastically endorsed a federal marriage amendment to the Constitution (since defeated) that would have effectively nullified same-sex unions — seems strangely absent from her narrative. Cheney acknowledges that the president’s position on gay marriage gives her “a knot in the pit of my stomach,” so what in the name of Rita Mae Brown stopped her from confronting him? Timidity? Deference? Or her avowed desire to “maintain a low profile” (which raises the question: why write this book at all)? Certainly it is not her God-given responsibility, as a Republican operative who happens to be gay, to be an advocate for gay and lesbian issues. But — with apologies to Dan Quayle and the United Negro College Fund — what a waste.

You know that left an ouchie.  Black and blue, I bet.

It seems, like many simpletons, both Mary’s intellect and personality are inchoate.  All she knows is the party line based on waiting desperately for the next “attagirl” from her daddy.  The poor little thing.  Daft, yes, but still unfortunate.

As I suspected and would forever more believe, don’t waste your time on such nothingness.  You’re better served by reading the dictionary or phone book, or even the “do not remove” tag on your mattress.

Interestingly enough, and in addition, the book thus far has sold only 6,000 copies.  Would you like to know why, given the amount of publicity it has received?  It’s rather elementary, and you’ll spank yourself for not figuring it out on your own.

Conservatives won’t read it because she’s gay and, even if she is the vice president’s daughter, they hate her for what she is.  Ditto for Republicans.  Liberals won’t read it because she’s gay and has betrayed one of their core beliefs.  Democrats hate it becacuse she’s gay and represents one of the pet causes to which they promise all manner of action and deliver none (they don’t want to be embarrassed simply because they can see themselves in her attitude toward the subject).  Gays don’t want to read it because they know she’s the Republicans’ token fag who’s as empty as a chocolate Easter bunny, and the book is nothing more than politics as usual, something akin to the Log Cabin Republicans who talk much and accomplish little — actually, I’m comin’ up with nothin’ on that one — despite the unique position to champion and advocate change from within.  Straights don’t want to read it because she’s gay and isn’t offering anything they want to hear (unlike Dan Savage and David Sedaris).  Shall I go on?

Truthfully, she’s a bag of hot air pouring forth prolix posturing in the name of makin’ Daddy proud.  I’m quite certain I’ve regurgitated more interesting tidbits after a drinking binge than she could come up with to talk about in this sorry excuse for fireplace fodder.  The poor lass has wasted an opportunity for greatness, the inimitable prospect of being the catalyst for progressive change within America’s ruling party, the institutional embodiment of challenge to the bigotry and intolerance that so pervades the conservative movement, not to mention the Republican Party.  And what did she do with these unbelievably favorable conditions?

Absolutely nothing.