We are all Lance Baxter.

Lance is my hero.

You know—he captures the faux-politeness angle quite well.  The Teabaggers regularly seem to understand the raw idea of manners, but miss the essentials.

Which, really, explains a lot…

@John: It’s not just Teabaggers. One of my proudest moments in journalism came when I was asked to contribute to an annual list of the 50 most annoying things in the Bay Area. One of my items (they were published under a general “staff” byline) was “Militant vegan ecofeminists with multiple kids who drive minivans.”

My editor called me after it hit the newstands and said I had to call her voicemail. There was this angry-but-passive-aggressive Bay Area woman (a Shakesville regular, I’d swear) who went on a rant about “that asshole guy who said that horrible thing about women and feminists” (missing the finer points of my categorization, but whatev). She went on to suggest that “he” was gay, hated women, and was miserable, and maybe “he” should just jump off the Golden Gate Bridge. She then ended this little screed with “Well, okay. Have a nice day. Especially all you women out there!”

Warmed the cockles, I tell you what!

Oh, hell, I know it’s an asshole trait in general.  But for the Teabaggers, it’s one of the defining traits of their movement and the entire philosophy of the “not racists”, as I like to call them.  They don’t mean to be rude, but we’re evil commie ratbastards who hate America.

Oh yeah, they definitely have the disease worse than most, no question. And they are such thin-skinned little bastards about it.

Lance’s callers have traces of that old Southern concept of manners where politeness is a sign of being a proper gentleman or lady, unlike the Northern agressors.

Thanks, Lance. I already think you’re hilarious. However, because you’ve contacted me first, I am forbidden by the Producer’s Code to ever hire you for booth announce or character work, even if you’re conveniently available via T-3 line, DSL or satellite hook-up. It’s right there on the AFTRA Paymaster form, down in the part nobody reads.

Unfortunately, that restriction also extends to film Extras and Under-Fives, which means I’m stuck using Fred Thompson for “Dope Dealer #3,” even though I had you totally in mind when I wrote the line, “This life and the next, muthafuckah.”

Fucking socialist union bullshit. Just dayum.