Toronto Diary
1 min

An open letter to Victoria Jackson

Dear Victoria Jackson — Miss Jackson if you’re nasty? No? Okay then.

I remember you back when you were on Saturday Night Live (thanks, Netflix!) You were pretty funny! I mean, not Kristen Wiig funny, but at least you were better than Horatio Sanz, or anyone from the sixth season. So, you know, not too shabby.

And then you quit to pursue . . . whatever it was you were pursuing exactly, and you went from being the funny, bubbly ditz who danced on the Weekend Update desk to the joy-killing church lady who hands out psalms on Halloween because you think costumes and candy will turns kids on to satanism. Seriously, you’re like what would happen if Minnie Mouse downed a handful of quaaludes and read Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged.

Which is to say, you’ve lost something here. It’s like you’re trying to be a comedian, but you’re too focused on being political. And you’re unbelievable as a political junky because you’re so horribly inept at putting together serious, coherent thoughts, and because you look like a bad drag queen.

Just look at this video you recorded of yourself trying to debate an HRC activist:

What was that? You came off as a shrill, unthinking bigot. Well, that’s mostly because that’s exactly what you are, but still, you recorded and edited that yourself. How do you still manage to come off so poorly in your own work? Oy vey, Victoria. It’s not going to get better for you.  

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