Lucky Lois Lerner: I couldn’t lose old e-mails if I wanted to. Let me explain.
First: I hate e-mail. Loathe it. Oh, it was fun at first, back when AOL was training everyone for the day the Internet arrived. Now each day is a fire hose of e-mail, with the ones you want to read interspersed with notices to appear in Spanish court to face charges (viruses, every one of them, and besides, I was acquitted); spoofed messages from apple.com that actually redirect to a place where you can buy knock-off penis pills if only you hand over your credit-card information to people who lied to get your click; blast e-mails from political organizations from the left and right, each equally convinced that the flood of Huns pouring over the horizon can be stopped if only I contribute; an e-mail from Amazon asking if I wouldn’t mind answering a question about the belt I bought a few months back, which makes you wonder what sort of question someone might have, and how you could possibly help. Does it have holes? It has Holes.
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