Does Fighting With Rosie Inflame Elisabeth Hasselbeck’s Libido?

She spotted you in the audience at a taping of The View. During a commercial break she pulled one of the pages aside — you saw her point to you and mouth the words I want that one. When they were done filming, the page brought you backstage to her dressing room. The fold-out couch was done up with silk sheets. “Get undressed and wait for her,” the page said, and left.

It was clear that this wasn’t the first time she’d done this, but why let that deter you. Hadn’t you been dreaming of this moment since you saw her on Survivor, half-starved and pulling out her protein-deficient hair?

Suddenly she stormed in, slammed the door, and pounced on you. You were her plaything, a mere object. She held your arms down and forced her body against yours. It had been a particularly difficult taping that day, accusations and admonitions flying back and forth between her and Rosie. About the war, about global warming, about Wolfowitz’s effectiveness as head of the World Bank — it seemed the fighting would never stop. Was that the trigger for her passion? Had she singled you out because your appearance was to her liking, or did her desire have nothing at all to do with you?

And yet, and yet. You have to believe the moment meant as much to her as it did to you. Afterwards, the emotions let loose, you just held each other, weeping, for hours.

It seems pat to describe it this way, given the profoundity of her faith and the central role it plays in her life, but the best word to describe the experience and its effect on you would be: religious. In the sense of touching the unknowable and having it change you inwardly, not in the sense of being abused by a priest. Well, both.