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Sunday, April 03, 2005

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This woman is a witless dope with a voice good enough to hide it and, formerly, a bod that made her mind irrelevant. But she has more to regret than sitting at an AA battery in NVN. If it weren't for her, we wouldn't have the likes of the jugged-eared pinhead Juliet Roberts in our faces or the low and stupid Martin Sheen doing anything higher than Hammer Films.

Fonda also travelled with Donald Sutherland on the FTA Show, encouraging gullible young soldiers to desert. They went to jail, she went back to the cheese-smearing degenerate Frog Vadim, and Sutherland went back to Eliot Gould.

Perhaps her worst crime was to expand the career of Robert Redford, who otherwise would be flogging men's cosmetics and sandals for the elderly on The Home Shopping Network.

Years ago when Redford was being mentored by Fonda, he showed up in Hartford to display solidarity with Pratt and Whitney strikers. He arrived with pressed bell bottoms, a starched, button-down denim work shirt, oxblood half-boots, a kid-leather bush jacket, mirrored aviators and that stupid shock of hair over his eyes. He sounded like a demented Maoist and looked like a queen from Westworld. A pitiful running-dog of Fondaism.

This all works together, and it, and more, was Jane Fonda's fault.

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