Say, whatever happened to Norah Vincent?

Last I knew, the soi-disant “pro-life libertarian lesbian,” three terms that constitute the most mildly interesting, yet oh-so-affectively contradictory, things about this incredibly untalented writer, was submitting a weekly op-ed column to the Los Angeles Times, normally published, after what was no doubt the briefest of checks by “editor” Mary Arno, on Thursdays.

Actually, Vincent’s column was in syndication, but I never saw it published anywhere else. Truth be told, I didn’t look very hard.

And now, all of a sudden, Vincent, who is based in frighteningly nearby Yardley, Pa., seemingly has disappeared from the pages of the Times.

The last time Vincent’s doodlings appeared in the Times was on August 11, one full month ago.

An extended vacation?

Perhaps. One never knows. Vincent could be back any day now, though from what she might be resting is a question for the ages.

And yet I wonder.

Could it be that the self-righteously, self-described “fiercely independent” Vincent couldn’t find an audience even within the massive distribution provided her by the Los Angeles Times?

Could it be that “Ms. Vincent,” very close friend of Lisa McNulty, a repeat correspondent with Rittenhouse, turned out to be as much of a failure as a columnist as she did as a blogger?

Could it be that I was right?