Blogger Michelle Malkin is an impressively craven and vile human being, a dangerous demagogue who properly belongs grouped with slavery defenders, flat-earthers and Nixon apologists interned forever in the extreme fringes of the popular discourse, and she's too humorlessly vapid to plausibly attempt Ann Coulter's "it's just a joke" defense. But all that said, she reached her peak of influence and fame a couple years ago, thank god. Still, we'd love to read the New Yorker's forthcoming profile of the reactionary sophist, because maybe it would answer those burning questions about how much influence her insane husband has on her "writing" or maybe it'd just be a ripping good exploration of moral bankruptcy. Unfortunately, shrill Malkin won't cooperate with Rebecca Mead, because Rebecca Mead is a real reporter. Here is a fascinating series of emails demonstrating how not to butter up an unwilling subject.