This is not a true story. But if it were, would you be surprised?nn* * * * * *nnTHE FEELINGS BEGINnnAnn Coulter, political firebrand, stood in front of her bathroom mirror and dropped her shorts. Her nicely shaved, completely bare pussy gleamed in the light. She admired her pussy in the mirror, turning to different angles to see its smoothness. She lightly touched the crack in the middle, feeling the warm furrow that was now bereft of hair. She pushed her finger in and wiggled it around. Then she brought her finger to her nose and sniffed.nn"Good," she said to her reflection. "No sign of odor." She looked at the can of Fem-B-Gone on her vanity. The words on the can read, "Leaves no trace of unwanted feminine odor." Indeed, it had done its job well, so well that her friends down at the Center for Traditional Womanhood jokingly called it Tuna-B-Gone. nnThere was no longer any sign that her cunt was that of a grownup woman. Ann knew that her can of Fem-B-Gone was produced en masse in China, where poverty-stricken people worked with dangerous fumes and bad working conditions just so that she could turn her pussy into a slick ad for the fashion-chemical business. She admired the economic efficiency and the profit that this product entailed.nnShe returned to admiring her bald cunt. Then she turned around and stuck out her bony rear end. She spread the cheeks and ran her fingers up and down her crack. It, too, was smooth.