Quite naturally, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” despise all sorts of things. The objects of our un-affection are legion: Dick Durbin, the word “moist,” overwrought adulation of Tom Hanks, &c.

Accordingly, we figured that in today’s humble “post” we’d showcase a side of our collective personality that you wouldn’t expect. You know: Change things up a bit. To this end, we have decided to forgo our usual farrago of scorn in favor of a different kind of lucubration.

As such, dear reader, in todayÂ’s installment, weÂ’re focusing on things we ought to detest, but donÂ’t dislike all that much. ItÂ’s the reverse of what youÂ’d expect, and we, like a cock-eyed Parisian whore, like to keep you guessing.

So, without much in the way of further ado, why donÂ’t we begin? Yes, letÂ’s.

The Official “Hatemonger’s Quarterly” List of Things That Ought To Get Our Dander Up, But Don’t

1) Kofi Annan: Sure, he’s an obvious incompetent. He’s also odiously corrupt, disgracefully venal, and sickeningly adept at moral preening. This guy’s so shady you’d figure that “Annan” is Swahili for “graft.” But we simply can’t hate him: His accent is so cute.

2) Starbucks: Sure, theyÂ’re the industrialized worldÂ’s equivalent of fungus. The coffee isnÂ’t good and their foodstuffs are abominably priced. But, for crying out loud: Detesting Starbucks is about as interesting as hating athleteÂ’s foot. And it isnÂ’t that bad, is it? No oneÂ’s forcing you to go there.

3) The Mormon Tabernacle Choir: Although admittedly a tad creepy, itÂ’s actually quite listenable.

4) Al Gore: Okay, so heÂ’s become an unhinged lunatic, ranting and raving about the horrors of America to folks in Saudi Arabia. Obviously, thatÂ’s deeply offensive. HeÂ’s also alarmingly self-important. But, hey, he invented the Internet. So lay off him, will you?

5) Sting: It’s interesting that this guy first came to fame by instructing Roxanne not to “put on the red light,” since he’s basically prostituted himself his entire career. What’s more, he appears to insist that he’s some sort of artiste, as if “Di-Doo-Doo-Doo, Di-Dah-Dah-Dah” is really a landmark work of Western culture. Yet he isn’t all bad. After all, he’s a balding sex symbol. What’s not to love?

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