There is no place hotter in the media lately than South Carolina, "The Cracker State," whose logo is still essentially the Confederate flag. First we had Governor Mark Sanford inexplicably confuse the Appalachians with Argentina while having an affair. This slip of the mind and tongue is only matched in the Casa Diablo international malapropism category by the gent we were seated next to in a New York bar who, while trying to impress two ladies he was talking to with his culinary knowledge, said a nearby Chinese restaurant had fantastic "Saskatchewan food." Try the Moose Goo Gai Pan, gals.
Then we have the instantly legendary drunken racist with Tourette's syndrome, Rep. Joe Wilson, two assholes in one pair of pants, who screamed "You lie!" at President Obama during his health-care speech to Congress, which even Neanderthals such as Tom DeLay never did. Wilson eventually grudgingly apologizing, though undoubtedly sending a telepathic message to the president of "Get off my lawn!" when he did so. We'd polish up that resume before the next election, Joe.
Finally, former Brown Soccer coach Trevor Adair, who jumped ship years ago for the same job at Clemson (thus trading a guaranteed gig after retirement at an investment firm in La Prov for one managing a Shoney's on the interstate), was hauled in by the police for attacking his two teenage daughters. Charged with assault and battery, Adair resigned, though he at least had the good sense not to say it was "to spend more time with my family."
Meanwhile, P+J have bought express bus tickets to Charleston for the foul-mouthed Serena Williams and obnoxious and insulting Kanye West. They will love you in South Carolina, kids, provided you don't mind sitting in the back on the way down to Dixie and using the "colored" rest rooms once you arrive in South Carolina. Gamecocks, indeed.
That's what Phillipe and Jorge had to say to our friends at the Urinal's "Political Scene" column (which we steal from on a regular basis) about their September 14 edition.
Our pals noted that on Politico's Web site, Rep. Patrick Kennedy had been named to its list of Washington's most eligible singles, saying that "the Rhode Island congressman joins the likes of New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd and Meghan McCain, son of Arizona Sen. John McCain."
Nothing earth-shattering about that news — except for the fact that Meghan McCain is the daughter of McCain, not his son. That doesn't mean she isn't hot-looking, but the error was embarrassingly confounded by the fact that she is also a lesbian. Could there be some sort of subliminal comment or suggestion underlying the report here in the state whose political leadership is highly homophobic and inexplicably and inexcusably running scared from the idea of gay marriage? Shouldn't we be told?
At any rate, the guilty party among the three BeloJo reporters who wrote the column did issue a correction the next day, saying, "So she's a dyke. Get over it." No, seriously, they did cop to the error, red faces and all. And we can understand the mistake if Meghan McCain was a South African track star, not the highly visible daughter of a GOP presidential candidate.
Is that a vibrator in your pocket or do you just like Mary Cheney? And sleep tight, Tanya DiPrete.