I honestly feel sorry for Ann Coulter's parents. They must be hugely

embarrassed, mortified, and humiliated. How can they go out in public knowing they raised such a creature.
If she really does have parents, that is, assuming she didn't just slime out from under some rock.

perhaps they are as happy as Mary Cheney to sell out their values for a life of ease or a new plasma tv.

What do you want from life
To kidnap an heiress
or threaten her with a knife
What do you want from life
To get cable TV
and watch it every night

There you sit
a lump in your chair
Where do you sleep
and what do you wear
when you're sleeping

What do you want from life
An Indian guru
to show you the inner light
What do you want from life
a meaningless love affair
with a girl that you met tonight

How can you tell when you're doin' alright
Does your bank account swell
While you're dreaming at night
How do know when you're really in love
Do violins play when you're touching the one
That you're loving

What do you want from life
Someone to love
and somebody that you can trust
What do you want from life
To try and be happy
while you do the nasty things you must

Well, you can't have that, but if you're an American citizen you are entitled to:
a heated kidney shaped pool,
a microwave oven--don't watch the food cook,
a Dyna-Gym--I'll personally demonstrate it in the privacy of your own home,
a king-size Titanic unsinkable Molly Brown waterbed with polybendum,
a foolproof plan and an airtight alibi,
real simulated Indian jewelry,
a Gucci shoetree,
a year's supply of antibiotics,
a personally autographed picture of Randy Mantooth
and Bob Dylan's new unlisted phone number,
a beautifully restored 3rd Reich swizzle stick,
Rosemary's baby,
a dream date in kneepads with Paul Williams,
a new Matador, a new mastodon,
a Maverick, a Mustang, a Montego,
a Merc Montclair, a Mark IV, a meteor,
a Mercedes, an MG, or a Malibu,
a Mort Moriarty, a Maserati, a Mac truck,
a Mazda, a new Monza, or a moped,
a Winnebago--Hell, a herd of Winnebago's we're giving 'em away,
or how about a McCulloch chainsaw,
a Las Vegas wedding,
a Mexican divorce,
a solid gold Kama Sutra coffee pot,
or a baby's arm holding an apple?

The Tubes....Don't Touch me There!....

But I'll see your Fee Waybill and raise you a Philip Larkin, which may be more relevant to the OP:

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had,
And add some extra, just for you

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

Hand me my costume,
Please won't you pass me my mask...?
I have appointments that I must keep with my past...
Bring on the cabaret, we can all have a laugh...
I've made the theatre of the absurd at last.

Drink up and let's go home...
The demon is on the phone...
He's playing a dialing tone...
So drink up and let's go home...

Orchestrations of a different nature...
Arrangements that I've made to end it all...
Years and years of love all turned to paper
Dancing at the old musicians ball.

And these beauty secrets that I've kept so long
Have slightly faded like my old blue jeans,
But read them now because before too long
They could fall apart at every seam...

Play me my music
Please won't you warm up the band...?
It's my performance although nothing is planned...
Turn on the spotlight,
We can pretend there's a stage...
I'll be your hero only as long as I'm paid.

Drink up and let's go home...
(You're such a naughty boy...)
The demon is on the phone...
(He's got a special toy...)
He's playing a dialing tone...
(A thing to bring you joy...)
So drink up and let's go home...
Let's go home...

If you consort with the devil under a full moon while drinking the blood from a puppy you're just asking for something like this to happen.

We may not think consorting with the devil is a good thing. But who can resist a full moon ... and puppy blood? I mean in Ann's family.

who have nothing better to post about than Ann Coulter's parents' thought on their daughter. and for the record, she does have parents. I grew up in the same town as La Coulter. According to my mother, they're considered rahhther tacky.

as amoral as that learning by example, like W.

And giving you three free months of their hate rag to boot if you are a new subscriber. Talk about padding sales. That fucking site runs at a loss every year anyway.

I'd buy one to have the satisfaction of burning it, one stinking page at a time.

from what I heard about her father, he's a true sonofabitch himself. He wanted a son. He got Ann.

Their daughter is a millionaire by selling books!