by Thomas Hart

G21 Muckraker

AUSTIN, REPUBLIC OF TEJAS - What exactly is it about the Southern drawl that makes the rest of y'all in the upper 48 think a man can be trusted? When I look at the success of Dollar Bill Clinton, Dubya Smirkington Shrub and, now, John Edwards, the second man left standing in the Democratic Presidential nomination race, I just gottah ask that question. What? Y'all think bein' able to talk slow enough that folks can understand what you're sayin' makes for sincerity or somethin'? Or is it just - which I'm thinkin' is more likely - y'all figgers that us bumpkins from Bubbaland won't be smart enough to pull the wool over your danged eyes? Guess again.

Well, personally, I wish the secondhand John a lottah luck in his bid for the Democratic nomination, 'cause I think he can out "I'm just a reg'lar guy" the Shrub. But I'm also thinkin' the secondhand John would make about as good a Prez of the E Pluribus Unum as the current resident of Pennsylvania Avenue. Seems like the Amurrican people been real fond of on-the-job-training in the White House these last few years. Maybe that's why all our jobs is in Bangalore, India and Saltillo, Mexico, these days instead of Dayton, Ohio or Pittsburgh or Milwaukee. Whaddaya'all think?

Seven words, y'all: Don't Let the Smooth Talk Fool Ya.

Meanwhile, they's plenty of dumpster diving news out there to warm the cockles of a true Sanitation Engineers heart. I'm talkin' DIRT galore, pardners, which is the second best thang to Pussy Galore, as far as the Tabloid One is concerned. So let's get to it.

Martha In Court

This past Thursday, up in New Yawk, a woman who was characterized as a friend of Martha Stewart appeared as a witness for the prosecution in Ms. Living's insider trading trial. Women can be so catty, my fellow Sanitation Engineers. You know what I mean? This here "friend" of Martha's testified under oath that she was chatting with Martha just a couplah days after Ms. Living sold off her stock in Imclone. They was havin' them some vanilla hazelnut lattés served outtah little demitasse cups served on Martha's hand-embroidered orange and teal doilies with the inlaid lace trim out on the veranda. Accordin' to this ole gal's sworn testimony, Martha told her about the stock sale, how her pal who was CEO of Imclone had sold off his stock, and then made the comment, "Isn't it nice to have a broker who tells you that kind of thing?"

Cain't you just see ole Martha havin' to sit there in open court and listen to that gal drop the dime on her without bein' able to get up and strangle the wench? It makes a dirt-lover like your boy Tabloid Hart wannah bust a gut!

The Titty That Ate Amurrica

How about them New England Patriots?

I know that if most of y'all is like me and my pards Buford and Cleavis, you was rootin' for the good ole boys who made it to the Super Bowl and not them danged Yankees while y'all was knockin' back the longnecks. But oh well. This here seems to be the year of the Yankee. The New Yawk Yankees get A-Rod, that Yankee from Massachusetts looks very Presidential and the Pats won the Super Bowl. But did anyone give a horse patootie about the danged game after Janet Jackson showed that nipple ring? I don't think so.

The FCC and a lottah Bible-Belt harridans don't seem to think so either. Heck, women who never watched the Super Bowl in they durned lives knew all about Janet's titty faster than you can say TiVo! I couldn't believe it t he next day when I was watchin' "The Jerry Springer Trailer Trash Extravaganza" on my danged TiVo and the show was interrupted by a Special Announcement from some group down here in Tejas calllin' themselves the Concerned Mothers for the Lynching of the Other Jackson. Seems, according to this here Public Service Announcement, that every one of these gals' five and six year old sons got wood from watching Janet and Justin at the Super Bowl and they - the SUV moms, that is - was fit to be tied. They wanted Janet Jackson on a burnin' cross.

What would a Sanitation Engineer like myself do upon getting' this revelation? Well, I did what you prolly did, Bubba. I turned off Springer, fired up my computer and got on the Internet and started lookin' for close-up shots of Janet's titty. That there star or sunburst or whatever it was nipple ring looked kindah nice. Janet's got a nice set for a woman in her forties.

Cheney Sightings Sweep the Nation!

Lo and Behold! Everywhere you look these days, United States Vice-President Dick Cheney, former CEO of Halliburton, and rumored real ruler of the Free World is showin' his mug. This after being in a "secured, undisclosed location" since the terrorist attacks of September 11 that changed everything.

What the heck is goin' on wit' dat? Well, according to Informed Sources down here in BubbaLand, ole Dick was a bit upset when Karl Rove started floating trial balloons about a Sir Rudy Guiliani Vice-Presidency. I hear that Cheney broke out into a cold sweat and that he complained that the overcharges of the American troops in Kuwait and Iraq at them mess halls by Kellog-Brown & Root, a subsidiary of Halliburton, had to cease and desist immediately. I even heard from these Informed Sources that a phone call was made to Halliburton demanding that they give back some of the money they had overcharged the Pentagon for the shite on a shingle trays.

No way that ole boy from Wyomin is gonnah let some Yankee take his danged gig out from under him without a fight. He's been raising money for the GOP like it's goin' outtah style for three years now and he figgers that's gottah count for somethin'. Rudy has just gottah wait his turn, my Informed Sources claim. So Dick Cheney started givin' interviews all over the place != even to "Liberal Media" outlets like National Public Radio (NPR). The next thang y'all know, he might even appear on the pages of the G21.

Don't look now, but Dick Cheney may appear in a town near you real soon.

Hot L California

Let's face it, fellow Sanitation Engineers, nobody knows how to grab a headline better than them fruits and nuts out in California and no Caliphonies know better how to do it than them folks up in San Francisco. I mean, in most cities what's called a demonstration is just your typical date in San Francisco. So what does the Mayor of the city by the Bay decide to up and do? Have thousands of swish boys and refugees from the isle of Lesbos get hitched, jump the broom, say the "I do"s right in his durned City Hall for all of Amurrica to see on the nightly news.

The new Frisco Mayor, a guy name of Gavin Newsom, claims that listening to the Shrub's State of the Union address gave him the idea.

Uh-huh.

The only thang this year's State of the Union made me think of was takin' a durned trip to the can. But I ain't from Cali. I don't have them there type of "inspirations".

So the latest news on the Trailer Park Smoke Signal Network, otherwise known as the Fox News Channel, is that the City of San Francisco is taking the State of California to court - Get this! - because it's unconstitutional to keep gays and lesbians from tying the knot like ever' body else. "Equal protection" and all that.

Uh-huh.

(I know, I know. It would be funnier if I was just makin' this stuff up, wouldn't it, fellow Sanitation Engineers?)

Meanwhile, back at the ranch down here in Tejas - Crawford, to be exact - the Shrub is squirmin' because he may have to make good on his hints to the Christer Right that he would support a constitutional amendment to make heterosexual marriage the law of the land in an election year.

Stay tuned.

That Ain't Funny, Tom!

AND FINALLY, I gottah respond to a lot of private e-mail I received from some of y'all about my previous column. It seems that I rubbed some people the wrong way by makin' fun of the Michael Jackson trial furor in the Mouthpiece Media.

Get over it.

It's called SATIRE. That is what I do. That is why I am gracin' these here pages with my pristine prose for as long as Rod keeps publishin' this here Web magazine and I have the time to submit articles that he will publish. I'm a yellow journalist. I read The National Enquirer (the real newspaper of record in this country) to get all my danged news. I live in a double-wide trailer outside of Austin, Republic of Tejas, and love the fact that my danged neighbors have no pretensions and unimpaired senses of humor.

When I go to work in the mornin' on my Harley, I am not thinkin' about the problems of southeast Asia or the starvin' children in Africa. I'm thinkin' about the longneck I'm gonnah down at about 5:25 when I get back from work and the yucks I'm gonnah have watchin' "Entertainment Tonight" about the absurdity of celebrity and what it means to be human at the beginning of the twenty-first century.

I am as shallow as a sheet of paper and proud of it. I LOVE THE DIRT. It reminds me that we all put our drawers and panties on one leg at a time and our shite does stink - no matter how danged rich, smart, beautiful or saintly we might think we are.

Sue me.

At the end of the day, y'all, only one thing matters: what mitzvahs have you done? Who's the last person you made smile and feel they was loved?

If you don't remember that and remember to laugh at yourself, I pity you.

And REMEMBER one more thang: It will take more than a few tornadoes to blow away all the trailer trash...

QUESTIONS? COMMENTS? E-mail Tom down in the trailer park. Go ahead!

+++ The Previous TABLOID HART +++ THE NEXT TABLOID HART +++