GOP Hoefuls Hit on Hot-Button Issues?

The "Cedar Rapids Gazette" (online edition) gets the catchy-title award for today’s headline, “GOP hoefuls hit on hot-button issues.” (see below) The question now is whether or not the title was a copy-edit slip or a Freudian slip?


The problem with Freudian slips is that, like an unanticipated rush of blood below the equator of an adolescent school boy, once they pop up, they’re hard to conceal -- let alone ignore.

It’s with this unbridled notion, coupled with my trained Shakespearean eye for double-entendres, that I proceeded to take a trip down Sophomoric Lane and read the article. For whatever reason (after all, double-entendre’s are in the eye of the beholder), the following phrases managed to probe my Freudian senses, dear Reader:

“Pork wasn’t on the menu…but was a topic for two presidential hopefuls…”

“…John Cox touted, with tongue in cheek, that he comes through when the chips are down.”

“When presidential hopeful Rep. Tom Tancredo, R-Colo., arrived at the fundraiser Sunday, he donned a pair of plastic gloves and was asked to serve fruit salad to the crowd.”

`”’If you were a committee chairman ... they'd have let you hand out the pork,'’ joked one attendee.”

``We've passed far too many bills increasing the size of government,'' he (Tancredo) said.

``Leave No Illegal Alien Behind bill.'

“If elected, he said, one of his first objectives would be to tell `(House Speaker) Nancy Pelosi and (Majority Leader) Harry Reid, `Stop playing general and let our military do their job in Iraq.'''

Now, I’ve been to some rousing sausage-festivals in the past, but I’ve never had the chance to attend a GOP Hoeful Pork Fest – but there’s always the hoe another one will swing through Iowa. In the meantime, I’m left with images of Tom Tancredo and Nancy Pelosi role playing General/Dubious Whipping Boy as they roll around in the fruit salad. Why Tancredo is wearing plastic gloves is beyond me, nor will I allow my imagination to go there to find out. I have to draw the line in the sand of decency somewhere, eh Freud?