Open Mouth, Insert Foot

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You remember a few weeks ago, I was describing the hilarious journey of Florida Republican senatorial candidate Wacky Kathy Harris.

Harris seems to be on a quest to run the absolute worst campaign ever, which has included statements like "if you don't elect Christians, they'll legislate sin." For some reason, Jewish people in Florida (and there a few of those, I hear) didn't think that was a real cool thing to say.

Now, however, it's not just Wacky Kathy making with the outrageous statements. Republicans in general seem to have fallen prey to a veritable epidemic of foot-in-mouth disease.

The most famous gaffer is, of course, Virginia senatorial candidate George Allen. Allen's running against James Webb, former secretary of the Navy under Ronald Reagan.

A Webb campaign staffer, an American citizen of East Indian descent, was videotaping Allen at a campaign stop, perhaps waiting for Allen to say something stupid. Allen was happy to oblige. He referred to the dark-skinned staffer as "Macaca or whatever your name is" and sneered "welcome to America and the real world of Virginia."

Now, I would have thought that telling a native-born citizen "welcome to America" because of his skin tone would be the offensive part, but that shows how little I know. People began concentrating on what the heck "Macaca" meant. Some pointed out that it was a derogatory term used for dark-skinned people in North Africa, where Allen grew up. Others said it means "monkey." Allen apologized, but insisted he hadn't meant anything by it and it was just a nonsense name. You know, like "Sambo."

Macaca-gate was just beginning to die down when Allen put his foot in it again. A local news reporter brought up the fact that Allen's grandfather was Jewish and asked, somewhat snidely, "when Jewish identity ended."

Now, this was undeniably a stupid question. And Allen, by golly, gave a stupid answer. He started off OK, pointing out how irrelevant the question was and talking about religious freedom. If only he'd shut up there.But then he lit into the reporter for, in his words, "casting aspersions on people for their religious beliefs."

Uh, wait a minute, people said. Mentioning Jewish ancestors is "casting aspersions"? Was Allen saying Jewish heritage really was something to be ashamed of? The debate over that continues to rage, and it's costing Allen in the polls.

Then there's Montana Sen. Conrad Burns, a crusty old bird who's being challenged in a tight race by Democrat Jon Tester. The first signs of the Burns meltdown appeared when he cornered a group of Virginia firefighters who'd flown 2,000 miles to help fight a forest fire in Montana.

"You're doing a piss-poor job," Burns sputtered at them, showing what might be called a Pre-911 attitude towards first responders. (He later apologized.)

Then things got a little bizarre. On several occasions, Burns started talking about Hugo, a "nice little Guatemalan man" who worked for him, about how he'd asked Hugo for his green card, and how Hugo had refused. Burns later said he'd been joking, obviously forgetting that Republicans are not currently known for their sense of humor about immigrants these days.

Ira Mehlman, a spokesman for Federation for American Immigration Reform, sniffed, "If you have the very people who are responsible for making the laws mocking them, it's a pretty good indication of why we have 12 million people breaking the law."

During a fundraiser with first lady Laura Bush, Burns said the United States is up against a faceless enemy of terrorists who "drive taxicabs in the daytime and kill at night." Bet Conrad's going to have a little trouble finding a taxi next time he lands at Dulles.

(Actually, cab drivers can be a little scary. I had one in Philadelphia that I'm convinced was trying to kill me, and that was just the way he drove).

But the real prize for stupid, oh-my-God-he-didn't-say-that-did-he statements has to go to Illinois House candidate Peter Roskam. In a recent debate, Roskam, the designated heir apparent to the egregious Henry Hyde, charged that his Democratic opponent, Tammy Duckworth, wanted to "cut and run" from Iraq.

So what, you say? Isn't that a standard Republican response to anyone who dares ask questions about why we're still bogged down in Iraq, when are we leaving, and how?

Well, maybe. But in this case, the comment was in stunningly bad taste. See, Tammy Duckworth won't be doing much running from anything. She can't. She lost both legs fighting in Iraq when an RPG hit the helicopter she was flying.

Now, do I think that Roskam meant to poke fun at Duckworth's injuries? Naaah. If he'd really meant to denigrate the service of a wounded veteran, he'd follow the Republican playbook by passing out purple Band-Aids and getting Ann Coulter to claim that Duckworth was really just on the way to drink beer when she was shot down.

No, Roskam was just mindlessly spouting off standard Republican catchphrases without really thinking about what he was saying. You know, sort of like the Bush administration.

Those crazy Republicans. What will they say next? Stay tuned.

I'm Calling You Out, John Connolly

Bouchercon Post the First:

Okay, so I didn't win the Shamus. I'd only be mad, though, if I'd lost to a crappy book or one by an author I can't stand personally. This was not the case. Louise Ure's Forcing Amaryllis, which did win the Shamus for Best First Novel, is really good, and Louise herself is very cool, so it doesn't hurt to lose. Much.

The blow was cushioned by the fact that I was sitting with the First Offenders crowd, three lovely and charming ladies and Jeff Shelby, who all kept the hilarity level up, even as their favorite, Offender Lori Armstrong, went down in flames right along with me. There's a picture over at FO with me, Lori and fellow nominee Harry Hunsicker that pretty well sums it up.

Oh, and as for the title of this post: I was on a panel (ably moderated by Kevin Burton Smith) entitled "I Could Kick Your Ass...Or My Character Could." Admittedly, as titles go, it's not, say, Marjorie Morningstar. But it was a pretty good conversation between panelists and audience, if I do say so myself. We did get wind, however, that some sawed off Irish runt name of Connolly had been talking smack about the panel beforehand, claimimg that "you know they're a bunch of total wimps," or some such. Pretty brave talk from someone who didn't , you know, actually show up. Had he done so, he might have enjoyed a little chat with me, Brett Battles, John McFetridge, or even with Michael A. Black, one of our panelists who's a former cop and a kickboxer as well.

But it's okay. I'm a Southerner, and we have famously long memories. Our paths will, no doubt, cross again. And when we do, mark my words, Connolly. It's on.

Oh yeah, muthafucka, it's on.

3...2...1...LAUNCH!

Well, okay, not right this second...but I'm leaving first thing in the morning for Bouchercon in Madison, so this is my blastoff post. I've decided to forgo taking the laptop because I'm thinking the amount of time I'll have to use it doesn't justify the hassle involved in schlepping the damn thing from North Carolina to Wisconsin. Ergo, blogging will be nonexistent till I get back on Sunday nght and probably for a day or so after. Those of you reading this who are going to B'con and haven't already left...see you in the bar, or at my panel (I Could Kick Your Ass..Or My Character Could, moderated by Kevin Burton Smith and featuring Brett Battles, Michael A. Black, John McFetridge, and your Humble Narrator. 10:30 Saturday.)

Those of you who aren't going...you're all worthless and weak. Drop and give me 20.

Oh, and it's an honor just to be nominated, etc.

Just When You Think They Can't Go Any Lower

TPMCafe:

Illinois Dem House candidate Tammy Duckworth is striking back at GOP rival Peter Roskam for charging she wants to "cut and run" from Iraq -- a less-than-tasteful comment given that Iraq vet Duckworth lost both legs in the war. In an email message to be sent to supporters tomorrow which was obtained by Election Central, Duckworth campaign manager Jon Carson hammers Roskam for the comment, which he made a few days ago. "Tammy lost her legs fighting in Iraq and to accuse her of wanting to `cut and run' is simply crude," Carson writes, concluding that Duckworth "has never `cut and run' from anything, especially a fight."

You Thought YouTube Was Addictive?

Free Movies Fallen Into The Public Domain

Selections include early silent classics like Luis Bunuel and Salvador Dali's surreal Un Chien Andalou, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and D.W. Griffith's Birth of a Nation. But they also include Plan 9 From Outer Space (a movie so hilariously bad it must be seen to be believed), Reefer Madness, and The Day the Earth Stood Still. Oh, and cartoons.
It's like free film night at the Student Union right there on your desktop.

Huck, Holden, and Captain Underpants

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It's that time of year again, my friends. It's that time when we give thanks for one of our most precious and beloved freedoms.

Oh yes, I know that the Fourth of July is already over and that it's not yet Thanksgiving. But this, loyal readers, is Banned Books Week. This is the week (Sept. 23-30) when the American Library Association reminds us that the freedom to read is a freedom to be treasured -- and that there are people who would like to set themselves up as the arbiters of what other people (or other people's children) should or should not be able to check out of a library.

Some of the books people have tried to ban are J.D. Salinger's "Catcher in the Rye" (which among other things, deals with a teenage boy's awkward attempts at sexual escapades), and Dav Pilkey's comic "Captain Underpants" series, which is basically one long series of booger, poop and, yes, underwear jokes.

No. 1 on my banned books hit parade has to be Mark Twain's "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn."

I'll admit I'm a bit of a Twain junkie, and I've always found this tale of Huck, the archetypal non-conformist, preferable to the more conventional "Tom Sawyer." Tom, after all, ends his book rich and working toward respectability, whereas Huck's tale ends with these immortal words: "I reckon I got to light out for the Territory ahead of the rest, because Aunt Sally's going to adopt me and sivilise me, and I can't stand it. I been there before."

Huck was a rock 'n' roller a hundred years before rock 'n roll existed.

It's not those anarchist sentiments, however, that raised the hackles of some of the Mrs. Grundys of the world and caused some to call for "Huck Finn" to be removed from school shelves.

Depressingly, it's not the Right that objects to Huck, it's the Left, who feel that Huck's use of a certain racial epithet beginning with "n" means he's a racist and thus, that the book promotes racist attitudes.

Well, I'll give those folks credit for at least being well-meaning, but I have to say it: A well-meaning bonehead is still a bonehead.

Of course, Huck's a racist, or at least he starts out that way. He was raised in one of the most racist societies that ever existed in America, and it would stretch the reader's imagination to the snapping point if he were anything else.

The "n" word rolls off his tongue as easily as "an" or "the." That's what makes the story of his journey with Jim, the runaway slave who befriends him on his travels down the river, such an odyssey.

I don't think there's a more moving moment in American literature than the moment where Huck, who's convinced that helping Jim escape is a sin that will send him to hell, writes a note that will betray Jim to the slave-catchers.

"I felt good," Huck says, "and all washed clean of sin for the first time I had ever felt so in my life, and I knowed I could pray now. But I didn't do it straight off, but laid the paper down and set there thinking -- thinking how good it was all this happened so, and how near I come to being lost and going to hell."

But then, Huck starts to think. He thinks about the things they've been through together and all the things Jim's done to look out for him. He reaches a moment of decision: "I was a-trembling, because I'd got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself: 'All right, then, I'll go to hell' -- and tore [the note] up."

I've read that scene a few dozen times, and it still chokes me up. Think about it. This young man, who's probably heard some pretty graphic descriptions of hell in his life, and who's been brought up to believe that people like Jim are less than human, chooses to risk that fire rather than betray his friend.

At that moment, Huck casts aside everything he's been raised to believe to follow what he knows in his heart to be true.

That moment wouldn't be nearly as profound had Huck not started out where he did, namely poor white trash who thought nothing of referring to men like Jim using that despised "n" word.

So, you may ask, what do Salinger's Holden Caulfield, Captain Underpants and Huck Finn have in common? They all deal with things that maybe we'd all like to pretend don't exist: awkward teenage sexuality, racism, and, yes, boogers.

But anyone who thinks that small children don't already spend a lot of time time laughing about boogers, poop and underwear obviously hasn't spent much time around small children. Anyone who thinks teenage boys don't think about sex has either never been a teenaged boy or has forgotten what it's like.

Anyone who'd like to deny that some people start off racist -- and learn better -- obviously doesn't have much understanding of or faith in humanity. And anyone who thinks we can make these things go away by pulling books that deal with these topics off library shelves is living in a dream world.

Dusty Rhoades lives, writes, practices law and reads banned books in Carthage.