July 29-August 4, 2004

slant

Jabber Jaws

The VP, a would-be first lady and a governor's wife from Iowa are turning the campaign season into a word game.

by Trish Boppert

What the #$%? Who let the mother-F'ing, would-be lexicographers loose on the American political landscape, anyway?

The democratic process is stirring up a word storm of unprecedented proportions of late. Politicians and their better halves are dissin' and hissin' like atheists forced to take up serpents at a snake-handling service. Somebody muzzle them before they curse (Dick Cheney), deride so-called racial or geographic speech patterns (Iowa first lady Christie Vilsack) or tell a reporter (Teresa Heinz Kerry) to "shove it" again.

Ladylike, Kerry refrained from saying where, precisely, she'd like to see said reporter shove "it," though the majority of Americans polled agree that "where the sun don't shine" would be the likely destination. Had she indeed specified a locale, the uproar might be a tad more understandable. For example, imagine if she'd told him to "shove it so far up your %$#hole you'll be walking funny for the next decade." Or to "shove it up your mother%^&*ing wazoo, you miserable puke." Undeniably, those are words worth regretting. But when push comes to shove, "shove it" is hardly even insult-worthy, unless you add "douchebag" or "dickhead" or the like on the end. Better luck next time, Teresa!

On the other hand, Cheney's blunt directive, delivered to Democratic U.S. Sen. Patrick Leahy on the Senate floor, left nothing to the imagination. (Though the mental image of the august senator from Vermont gamely attempting the anatomically impossible remains seared on the consciousness of the nation.)

Let's face it, there's no one-size-fits-all response to being told to go *&^% oneself on the floor of the Senate, or anyplace for that matter.

"Why don't you try and make me?" sort of implies that you'd like to do just that.

"You and what army?" would seem to invite a mass attack of berserk Republicans known for twisting the limbs of lesser men into Gumby-like contortions.

And "I'm rubber, you're glue" is better left to third-graders, or junior senators.

Far from being abashed by his vigorous outburst, Cheney later commented that he felt "better" after he said it, kind of like the feeling of well-being one attains after confessing one's sins. Or getting really, really drunk at the office Christmas party and telling your boss that he's an inept, belly-crawling and, no doubt, impotent jackass. A post "go ^%&* yourself" glow, as it were. Glad as I am that Cheney was at peace, I know I'd have felt better if Leahy got him in a headlock and rabbit-punched him a couple times. Then they could have rolled around on the Senate floor, clawing at each others' ties and eyeglasses, while the rest of the senators shouted, "Fight, fight — a Democrat and Republican!" until the janitor broke it up.

What with the flurry of media attention Teresa's "shove it" engendered, Vilsack's newspaper columns deriding all kinds of folks for talking funny may have gone unnoticed. She disses Southerners for "slurred speech," but adds that despite being reduced to virtual pantomime when addressing Iowans, they remain "so polite and eager to please." (Especially when planning to put patronizing dimbulbs in a headlock.) She expresses fascination with African-Americans for "talking to each other in an English I struggle to understand" and then switching to "standard English" when the situation requires. Like when conversing with utterly clueless first ladies from Iowa, perhaps? Obviously, she hasn't seen the movie Airplane, or she'd know that all the other states start teaching mandatory "jive" in kindergarten.

Still, she's got an ear for Philly-speak. Knocking residents of New Jersey and Pennsylvania in one fell swoop, she writes of a trip to the region, "Later, on the boardwalk, I heard mothers calling to their children, "I'll meet yoose here after the movie.'" Yo, and what's wrong with that? Did she expect the mothers to say, "I'll meet yoose at the li-berry" instead? And isn't "yoose" actually spelled "youse?"

Alas, it gets worse.

"The only way I can speak like residents of New Jersey and eastern Pennsylvania is to let my jaw drop an inch and talk with my lips in an "O' like a fish. I'd rather learn to speak Polish," she writes, confusingly. Jeez. I'd rather she drop her jaw an inch and talk with her lips in an "O" like a fish while telling Dick Cheney to go %^&* himself. But in Polish. And with a Jive accent.

Trish Boppert is a contributing writer to City Paper. If you would like to respond to this Slant or have one of your own (800 words), contact Brian Hickey, City Paper managing editor, 123 Chestnut St., third floor, Phila., PA 19106 or e-mail hickey@citypaper.net.