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The New York Times Introduces You to the Real S.E. Cupp


"I never thought about it, but as an atheist, maybe NASCAR is my church?"

The New York Times has a regular Sunday column that introduces you to stars and newsmakers and their Sunday routines. We've brought you their interview with Al Sharpton before.

So I'm not sure if S.E. Cupp feels honored or slightly conflicted that this Sunday it was her turn to get the New York Times treatment. Her Sunday routine appeared under the headline, "Stock Cars and Chicken Wings." Anyone who has ever seen her show on Glennbeck.com knows that is appropriate.

Get to know S.E. below:

S. E. Cupp (she dumped the “Sarah Elizabeth” 10 years ago for a gender-free byline) is a conservative commentator, columnist and author whose second book, “Losing Our Religion: The Liberal Media’s Attack on Christianity,” was released last month in paperback. Ms. Cupp, a professed atheist with a master’s degree in religious studies from New York University, writes an online column for The Daily News and hosts a program on Glenn Beck’s Mercury Radio Arts. She is 32 and lives in the financial district. Her three Sunday essentials are Nascar, Buffalo wings and Bravo.

D.I.Y. DAY Sunday is the only day where I can kind of do my own thing and not have it dictated by the news cycle. I wake up around 8:30, later than normal. I usually sleep in an old Mets T-shirt; I save my Tony Stewart Nascar regalia for later when I’m watching the races.

PRAYER SUBSTITUTE I never thought about it, but as an atheist, maybe Nascar is my church?

COFFEE, CHILLED I stumble over to Leo’s Bagels, kind of the only place you can get bagels and a vat of coffee on a Sunday morning in my neighborhood. Even in the winter I order iced coffee, because I can drink it faster. If I could inject it, I probably would. I get a multigrain bagel with scallion cream cheese, untoasted. Toasting takes too long.

THE PUNDITS I head back to my apartment to catch the Sunday talk shows. I scribble down some notes, yell at a couple of pundits from the comfort of my couch, marvel at David Gregory’s phenomenal coif, and send out a perfunctory tweet or two. I read through the Sunday papers, skim the Web headlines and sketch out some ideas for next week’s columns. By this time it’s noon, my workday is over, and I’m tempted to go back to sleep.

Read the rest here.

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