Doing Our Part

I have written in the past that I would love to watch the Sunday gasbag shows with some of America’s incisive social critics of the past. I can only imagine what Mark Twain or HL Mencken would say at the spectacle of Tim Russert and five pompadoured members of the clergy disgorging scripture with all the unctuous insincerity of a South Carolina push poller. You know it would be wicked.

This article by Richard Byrne in The American Prospect discusses Sinclair Lewis, one of the greats, and specifically notes just how relevant Elmer Gantry is today. (Considering the Big Tent Revival Senator Frist and the Dogbeater Dobson are putting on the Sunday, it’s almost eerie.)

It has been almost 80 years since novelist Sinclair Lewis set his most iconic ?ctional creation, a hell-raiser turned hell?re preacher named Elmer Gantry, loose on an unsuspecting America. For a clergyman in his 70s, Gantry has proven to be remarkably hale and hearty. Op-ed writers and columnists lean continually on Lewis’ parson to represent a uniquely American type: the fundamentalist hypocrite serving up corn pone and brimstone to promulgate a strict public morality.

The type was on its way to the margins in Lewis’ day; the 1920s were when modernity won, if not in fact in the great heartland, at least in the larger self-image of a nation gorging itself on jazz, burlesque, motorcars, and bathtub gin. But the type — the living, breathing Gantry, as it were — is now back with a vengeance.

And social critics of our day must not be afraid to expose rank hypocrisy wherever we can. In our party’s quest to clean up popular culture I’ve decided that my personal mission is to take on the country music business.

Country Music star Gretchen Wilson:

Well I’m an eight ball shooting double fisted drinking son of a gun
I wear My jeans a little tight
Just to watch the little boys come undone
Im here for the beer and the ball busting band
Gonna get a little crazy just because I can

You know im here for the party
And I aint leavin til they throw me out
Gonna have a little fun
gonna get me some

I may not be a ten but the boys say I clean up good
And if I gave em half a chance for some rowdy romance you know they would

I’ve been waiting all week just to have a good time
So bring on them cowboys and their pick up lines

Dont want no purple hooter shooter just some jack on the rocks
Dont mind me if i start that trashy talk

You know im here for the party
And I aint leavin til they throw me out
Gonna have a little fun
gonna get me some

Mothers all over the heartland must be beside themselves over this kind of cultural pollution. How can they explain it to their kids? (What does “get me some” mean, mommie?)

James Wolcott notices another shocking example of daytime radio sexual innuendo.

Where will it end?

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