Guns, God, and Gays (Cathryn Crawford)

“We've got to stop having our elections in the South based on race, guns, God and gays” – Howard Dean

Howard Dean. He makes us want to vote for him, for a split second, the first time we see him. He seems, at times, reasonably intelligent, and even charismatic and attractive – and then he starts talking, and talking, and talking.

So Dean says he wants to win the South. He wants to be the lucky Democrat to take back the South from those “racially divisive” Republicans, and he wants to prove that a Democrat can win in the South. What he doesn’t understand is that he’s a prime example of exactly why Democrats do not win in the South, and why there’s no chance of that changing anytime soon.

His rationale for the Republican’s stronghold in the South is that Republicans appeal to the South’s love of fundamentalist values, guns, and racism. He constantly implies that Southerners simply don’t care about issues other than these – that we are, perhaps, too stupid to bother. On the December 7 edition of Fox News Sunday, Dean said the following to host Chris Wallace:

“What the Republicans have been doing since 1968 was actually the subject of a speech I'm about to give in a couple of hours here in South Carolina, is dividing us along racial lines by talking about quotas, dividing us about abortion or guns or other issues like that.

Well, let me tell you something about South Carolina. There's 102,000 children here with no health insurance. Most of those kids are white.

White people and black people in the South have a common interest. Their jobs are going offshore. They haven't had a raise because health-insurance premiums have eaten up all their money. They need -- $70 million was cut, got cut out of public health insurance -- public education here, because the president's economic program has been such a disaster.

Everybody deserves a break -- not just in the South, but everybody else. And working people, no matter what color they are, need to vote together, because their economic interests are not served by the Republicans. And I think that's why the election needs to be about health insurance, economic opportunity and jobs, and better educational opportunities for everybody. “

Now, the entirety of that quote is based around one assumption – that voters in the South choose candidates based on their stance on race, and that’s why the Republicans win here. He’s constantly bringing up race, pulling it out and putting it away as he wills. Why does he feel the need to point out some of the kids without healthcare are white? Does being white somehow entitle them to better or worse healthcare? And he thinks he has to tell us that white and black people have common interests? I can assure Howie that we knew that long before some pompous Vermont governor told us.

I can’t wait to see Dean get stomped in the South, and get stomped he will. We just don’t like to be treated like idiots. We’re not stupid. We know lots and lots about the economy, and politics, and foreign relations and heck, we even know about the Medicare bill! Some of us attend school and some of us have even learned how to wear shoes.

If you detect frustration, it’s because it is frustrating to constantly have (Yankee) politicians who appeal to a caricature of the South. You know the caricature that I mean - the one that rolls the Beverly Hillbillies and Barney Fife into one dramatic ball of oily accents and uneducated blather. The one that regards the majority of Southerners as either poor white folks that live in trailers and get together over beers to talk about lynching the black man down the street, or as poor black folks that white folks have kept down their whole lives. To those of us who live here, it’s silly – but it’s offensive.

And then there’s Dean’s assumption that Southerners are too stupid to differentiate between the two parties unless there’s something about race involved in it. What, so Southerners screen out all words other than “race”, “black”, and “affirmative action” when listening to presidential stump speeches?

If this were this case, Southerners would love Dean, since he somehow manages to work race into every speech that he gives. If he’s not talking about how much he hates talking about it, he’s using it – like the speeches he gives in Southern churches with Jesse Jackson Jr., where he repeatedly mentions every racially charged subject from segregation to slavery to the 1963 Birmingham church bombings. There doesn’t seem to be an attempt by Dean to bring these topics together into a relevant point; no, it’s just all about how Republicans are racially divisive, and how those events somehow play into how horrible the Republicans really are. I’m not even going to attempt to understand that one.

It leaves most of us down here in stupid-land shaking our heads. Somewhat in pity – as in, poor Dean, he’s so ignorant – and somewhat in anger. The old Hollywood stereotypes get old, especially when they’re encouraged by people who really should know better.

There was a big flap, as everyone knows, over Dean’s statement about reaching out to white people with Confederate flags in their windows. I think everyone was too caught up in that not-so-controversial statement to hear the one that he made last regarding that specific pontification: "I make no apologies for reaching out to poor white people." He’s living up to the caricature yet again – poor whites are the only people who drive trucks and own Confederate flags, in Dean’s little world. He certainly doesn’t know much about the people that he wants to represent, and he’s done nothing noticeable to find out.

Dean was a doctor and a governor, but he still isn’t intelligent enough to see that with his ignorant and bombastic comments, he’s writing his own script for a monumental loss.

Cathryn Crawford is a student at the University of Texas. She can be reached with questions, comments, and criticism at CathrynCrawford@WashingtonDispatch.com.

it is frustrating to constantly have (Yankee) politicians who appeal to a caricature of the South.

Then do not, repeat, NOT, read these.

'Twas the Night before Christmas, and all through the shack
Not a creature was stirrin', cept the lice on muh back.
The skoal cans wuz nailed to the screen door with care,
With hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were sleepin', all snug in their beds,
While visions of tractor pulls danced in their heads.
And Ma in her nightgown all stained with pound cake.
Had just settled down to watch Ricki Lake.

When out in the driveway, a loud noise I heard,
I opened the winder to check muh T-bird.
I ran to the door, like I's on a mission,
But I tripped on some parts from muh granny's transmission.

The moon shone outside, the hound dog wuz barkin'.
Muh daughter weren't home yet, she wuz still out parkin'.

When what to muh whiskey blind eyes should I see
But a Chevy S-10, pulled by eight flyin' sheep.
With a fat nasty driver, so disgustin' and sick
I said "Shoot Fire!" That must be St. Nick!

More rapid than X-lax his wooly sheep came
And he belched and he hollered, and he called 'em by name.

Now CLIFFORD! Now VERNON! Now LESTER and ENUS!
On FESTUS! On ELMER! On ROSCOE and CLETUS!

From the top of the shack to them there garbage bins
Now Dash Away! Dash Away! Dash Away youins!

I heard a loud sound on the roof of muh shack.
Pud down muh beer and went fer muh gun rack.
He fell through the roof, plum killed my dog,
I swear that ole' Santa looked just like Boss Hog.

He wore a T-shirt, rebel flag on the front,
And his jeans were all bloody from that morning's hunt.
A big nekkid lady tattooed on his arm,
And he wore black boots that he'd picked up in 'Nam.

His eyes, how they glazed from too much Wild Turkey.
From the side of his mouth hung a stick of beef jerky.
A scar on his cheek from a fight with the cops.
The veins on his face looked ready to pop.

The butt of a Marlboro clung to his lip
He wore a hip pack full of B-B-Q chips.
He had a fat face and a hairy beer belly.
I ain't seen one that big since muh ex-wife Shelly.

He was gap-toothed and dumb with an I.Q. of three
And I laughed cause that redneck was smarter than me.
A wink of his eye, a fierce shake of his head,
From his hair came a rat that ran under the bed.

He reached in his sack, sipped his gin and tonic,
Then filled the kid's stockings with Hooked on Phonics.
His toys came from Big Lots and they weren't very nice
But he had lots of them and yuh can't beat the price.

He gave us a tape of them hound dogs that sing Jingle Bells.
Some Crisco, some Spam, some Oatmeal Cream pies,
And a Nascar T-shirt in Double X size.

When the presents were gone and he had no more,
He staggered and stumbled right through muh screen door.

He hopped in his truck, to his sheep gave an order
"Hurry up youins! To the Tennessee border!"
And I heard him cry out, with a strong southern drawl,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU REDNECKS! MERRY CHRISTMAS Y'ALL!"

YEE HAWWWW!

'Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the trailer
Not a creature was stirrin'
'Cept a redneck named Taylor.

His first name was Bubba,
Joe was his middle,
And a-runnin' down his chin
Was a trickle of spittle.

His socks, they were hung
by the chimney with care,
And therefore there was
a foul stench in the air.

From out in the yard
There came such a noise
That Bubba got scared
And rousted the boys.

There was Rufus, 12;
Jim Bob was 11;
Dud goin' on 10;
Otis was 7.

John, George and Chucky
Were 5,4, and 3:
The twins were both girls
So they let them be.

They jumped in their overalls,
No need for a shirt,
Threw a hat on each head,
Then turned with a jerk.

They ran to the gun rack
That hung on the wall.
There were 17 shotguns;
They grabbed them all.

Bubba said to the young'uns,
"Now hesh up ya'll!
The last thing we wanna do
Is wake up yer Maw."

Maw was expecting
And needed her sleep,
So out they crept out the door
Without making a peep.

They all looked around,
and then they all spit.
The young'uns asked Bubba,
"Paw, what is it?"

Bubba just stared;
He could not say a word.
This was just like all of
The stories he'd heard.

It was Santy Claus on the roof,
Darn tootin'
But the boys didn't know;
They was about to start shootin'!

They aimed their shotguns
and nearly made a mistake
That would have resulted
in venison steak.

Bubba hollered out,
"Don't shoot, boys!"
That's Santy Claus
And he's brought us some toys.

The dogs were a-barkin'
And a-raisin' cain,
And Bubba whistled, and shouted,
And called them by name.

"Down, Spot! Shut up Bullet!
Quiet, Pete and Roscoe!
Git, Turnip and Tater
and Sam and old Joe!"

"Git down from that porch!
Git down off that wall!
Quit shakin the trailer,
Or you'll make Santy fall!"

The dogs kept a-barkin'
And wouldn't shut up,
And they trampled poor Pete
Who was only a pup.

Santy opened his bag,
And threw out some toys.
Bubba got most,
But left a few for the boys.

From up on the roof
Santa heaved a great sigh.
Since the guns had been dropped
He just might not die.

He jumped in his sleigh,
Told his reindeer to hurry.
The trailer started to wobble
Santa started to worry.

Just as the reindeer
Got into the air,
The trailer collapsed,
But Bubba didn't care.

He was busy lookin'
At all his new toys.
Then a thought hit him,
And he said to the boys:

"Go check on yer Maw,
Make sure she's all right.
That roof fallin' on her
Could-a hurt just a might."

But Maw was OK,
And the girls were too.
They fixed up the trailer;
It looked good as new.

And as for Bubba,
He liked Old St. Nick,
But Santa thought Bubba
Was a pure-in-tee hick!

Bubba had a nice Christmas,
And the boys did, too.
And the Taylors wish
A Merry Christmas to you!

dividing us along racial lines by talking about quotas,

Hey! Howard the Duck, quotas aren't popular here either

dividing us about abortion or guns or other issues like that.

Duck, I'm a Yankee, but your types have been losing my county on these issues (as well as taxes) as well. Life MATTERS. Freedom MATTERS.

Their jobs are going offshore
Duck, didn't you back NAFTA/GATT?

And working people, no matter what color they are, need to vote together, because their economic interests are not served by the Republicans.

Now while I disagree here with about the economic stuff, that's just condescending, and nobody likes that. Duck thinks you're too stupid to understand. It's like his "Confederates and pickups" comment he made. I know the point he's trying to make. It's a good strategy, but those are the worst choice of words (as well as the race stuff) I've seen and one of the worst blunders this campaign season of a 'leading candidate'. Goes along with Kerry's F'ing interview and his shotgun stance.

I can assure Howie that we knew that long before some pompous Vermont governor told us.

I don't know if Duck did though. Burlington sure has a lot of Blacks, about as many as the UP of Michigan.

Duck or Clark were/are the only three I think that could pull anything off in the South(or rural areas in general). Kerry fits the Cambridge characture perfectly and has the voting record to prove it. Lieberman's record and his 2000 race lost any credibility. Edwards abandoned North Carolina. Gephardt's record hurts him.

Duck as a governor and outsider helps him. He isn't as hostile as others on guns, but he cost his chances when he opens his trap. So that leaves Clark, from Arkansas.

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