Washington's beef with the puckishly in-your-face, Gen X geek iconoclast takes its root from Smith's online anti-Southwest Airlines diatribe. Long story linkishly short: Smith too fat kicked off plane, media goes wild, Southwest apologizes. Fat people are amusing, it's true.
By her own admission, Washington had never heard of Smith before writing the column.
"Who's Kevin Smith?" she writes. "I had never heard of the guy. I suspect I am not alone."
Washington cares because, apparently, she harps about rotund people and their health-imperilling girth using an alternate persona called the "Fat Nag."
I'd never heard of the gal. I suspect I am not alone.
Anyway, long sermon cut bloggishly short: "The Nag knows that real love is tough love," Washington writes. "How about knowing that diabetes, high blood pressure, heart disease, cancer and a shortened life expectancy await the fat?"
No no no, real love is link love. And so Vanity Fair chimes in (of course it's Vanity Fair!), practically egging the two into a blab 2.0 conference:
Under the auspices of “tough love”—that morally bankrupt catchall that allows anyone to give any advice they wish at any time, no matter how mean-spirited or disinterested—Washigton counters: “It’s not about whether you are inconveniencing other passengers, though you are. It’s not about your own inconvenience. It’s just another dangerous dalliance with that tired old denial: It’s OK to be fat, even if it's killing you.” Smith’s yet to @reply his riposte.
Dem's fighting words. Or egging on words. Or at least amusing words?
Regardless: from Kevin Smith, no words so far. He's probably too self-absorbed.