Mr. Cavuto's Neighborhood

Via the Horse, Neil Cavuto today on Paul Krugman's latest column:

"And by the way, you sanctimonious twit, no one -- no one -- tells me what to say. I say it. And I write it. And no one lectures me on it. Save you, you pretentious charlatan ... Now may I suggest you take your column and shove it?"

Ho, ho. Why don't you hit him with your purse, Neil?

I wanted this post to be focused on ridiculing Mr. Cavuto for his unintentional confirmation of Krugman's assertion that Neil might be slightly less than fair and more than a little unbalanced, but I trust the above excerpt speaks for itself.

Instead, I want to talk about how much I hate the word twit.

It's an ugly and childish synonym of idiot, the most popular usage of which, as far as I can ascertain, is in old Garfield cartoons. Which, I suppose, makes it horribly out of style as well. Now, perhaps Mr. Cavuto fancies himself a daring artist whose medium is language, unafraid to go against popular linguistic trends, brilliantly mixing modern usage with paleo-juvenile scrawlings.

If this is the case, then consider me rebuked. Instead, now, I say Mr. Cavuto is to be commended. After all, an artist is an artist, and what right have we to judge him merely on the basis of professionalism and grammar? What need has an artist/journalist for such trivialities?

Won't we all feel quite silly when history looks back at this piece of his as the origin of a whole new movement, the literary equivalent of cubism?

I for one, am taking a stand in support of this innovator, this trend-breaker, this literary giant of a man. When the revolution comes, and the literary proletariat are rightly thrown out of the temple, it will be those of us on Neil's side who will be spared, while those who would mock his daring and maturity are subjected to scorn and ridicule.

See? I'm funny.

Cavuto is such a tool.