Poor Jim Coyle.
The Toronto Star columnist was just minding his own business, typing yet another innocuous space-buster about writers and booze, when along comes Heather Mallick and gives him a boot in the goolies.
Coyle, a reformed alcoholic who writes frequently and emotionally about his lifelong bottle battle, was opining on a new book, Out of the Wreck I Rise: A Literary Companion to Recovery, by Neil Steinberg and Sara Bader.
Quoth Coyle: [The book was] “like a pub crawl around the globe and across the ages, in company with an artistic who’s who of brilliant if besotted company.”
“The title alone will please imbibers of literary bent. Out of the Wreck I Rise comes from Robert Browning’s poem ‘Ixion,’ about a mythological king bound to a wheel in Hell, whirling forever in torment.
Seemingly harmless stuff, but Mallick launched into a typically spite-ridden rant at Coyle.
In her review of the same book, she said:
“[W]e know what drunks are like because we work with them, or they hit on us in bars, or they just hit us, or a human beer barrel speaks to us at a party and gibberish…and we are appalled.
“Drunks write a lot about being drunk. When they’re sober, they write a lot about having been drunk, and they do go on about it.”
Of course, this is far from the first time Mallick has trashed a colleague.
She and Rosie DiManno got into an unseemly hair-pull a couple of years ago after Mallick wrote about the Tories’ proposed hooker law.
“Conservatives just can’t help themselves. They come up with a perfectly civilized and modern anti-prostitution bill that promotes gender equality and shifts a legal burden from exploited women directly onto the pathetic men who buy sex.”
DiManno: “Men who buy sex are neither ‘perverts’, as described by Justice Minister Peter MacKay, nor ‘pathetic,’ as described by usually astute Star columnist colleague Heather Mallick, oft- and self-professed feminist.
“[In] Mallick World, the men are all pitiful and the women are invariably victims of gender inequality, in need of protection via infantilizing legislation that criminalizes the purchase of sex: The John Sanction.”
Mallick targets also include Peggy Wente and Sarah Hampson of the Globe and Mail and Antonia Zerbisias, formerly of the Star.
Back when she typed a column for CBC online, Mallick ripped Wente for her comments about Julie Couillard, the onetime biker babe of Tory leadership hopeful Maxime Bernier. It was vintage Malice—the self-appointed defender of the sisterhood, attacking rivals whose success makes her crazy.
“Margaret Wente went all scissor-lips and referred to Couillard’s ‘boobs…barely contained by a dress that appears to be made from a handkerchief,’ her ‘voluptuous body,’ her ‘cleavage…’”
“Sarah Hampson, a columnist who continually excoriates the father of her sons for having left her, was so obsessed with Couillard’s breasts that she twice referred with contempt to the ‘pantsuit’ the French woman wore for a television interview with TVA this week, implying that even a pantsuit couldn’t conceal the filthy, sluttish ‘mounds of her bosom.’”
For good measure, Mallick, who expressed pride in her own “fetching…big breasts,” fired off a round at Zerbisias:
“Here cometh the lessons, one about beautiful women and another about the nippled fleshy protuberances so yearned for by men and so resented by women who are neither beautiful nor breasted.
“It’s unfortunate that the contraction of feminism should have also shrunk common human decency, but these columnists meow and scratch at everything they don’t have.”
If there’s any doubt about who has the biggest knockers, consider this final salvo by Mallick, from the same CBC column:
“Take this, ladies: On my first-ever morning in Paris as I sat in a cafe eating blood sausage, a troop of soldiers of the Republic, on horseback and relying heavily on Napoleonic costuming, ceremoniously rode up to the Pont de Sully. As they passed the cafe, they turned in unison and stared at me. I was jet-lagged and mystified.”
“’They’re looking at your breasts,’ my husband said.
“‘But that’s insane,’ I replied.”