Capitol Hillbilly Defends, Embarrasses South

eorgia senator Zell Miller brought a congressional debate over the judicial nomination of Miguel Estrada to a screeching halt Tuesday, pitching a spectacular tantrum that left members of the Senate shaken and, if they were from the South, in denial of being from the South. Beating a wooden spoon on an empty coffee can, Miller called for attention and proceeded to deliver a rambling diatribe, punctuated by numerous down-homeisms and analogies involving coon hunting, which some believe was in protest of CBS's proposed reality show The Real Beverly Hillbillies. Full translated texts of the outburst were not available as of press time, as all known hillrods in the area had gone fishin'.

The controversial senator, known for attending congressional meetings barefoot and wearing a straw hat with denim overalls, has been barred from several debates in recent months for inappropriate bursts of banjo strumming and repeatedly not speaking English.

"Ladies and gentlemen, as a proud hillbilly let me say this: shame on you, CBS!
I don't know what they letters stands for but they Can't Be Serious! CBS as a network Coulda Been Somethin' but gone hafta settle for Caught Bein' Sneaks! Cause we of the hillbilly persuasion, and in that I speak for myself and others I know, ain't gonna let them get away with this crackerjack for one more minute!"

"Oh, Christ. Who let him out of his box?" whispered the unfortunately named Saxby Chambliss of Georgia. "There must not be any auto racing on today."

"Too long has hillbillies like myself, and remember I can say hillbilly because I am that, but you best don't, cause it's offensive and will get you a slapped mouth, but we the people have too long been the backside of popular humor at our expenses," continued Sen. Miller. "Offensive comic strips like Snuffy Smith and Lil Abner is just one example. Except for that one where Snuffy gets his foot caught in a beaver den, that was a hoot and a hollar."

"Good lord," groaned Tennessee senator Bill Frist. "At least he left his damned dogs at home this time."

As if on cue, four mangy hound dogs burst loudly into the Senate chamber at that moment and ran around the floor, barking and smelling things. The dogs had to be corralled by Sen. Miller, who offered them bits of raw pork from his pockets.

The proposed CBS show that started the ruckus would have been an update of the popular 60's sitcom The Beverly Hillbillies, only featuring real hillbillies in real danger.

"All throughout hist'ry there has been people who needed to look down on someone as less than theyselves, and the hillbillies next door have long been such a convenient target. No more, gents! The dignity of mountain people shall never again be trampled on by anyonest but theyselves."

"I know he's a Georgia man," confided Sen. Mitch McConnell of Kentucky. "But I'm telling you… He must've had some serious absentee votes from West Virginia or something. Because damn."

Florida governor Jeb Bush appeared and provided a quote without being prompted. "South? No, Florida's not part of the South. Who told you that? Florida's not really the South. I mean, yes, geographically it is south of some states, but inbred retard speaking, we're not really 'the South' at all. Florida has a large relocated population, and the simple fact of the matter is we have way too many Jews to be considered part of the South. Jews and the South don't mix; they're like Kurds and Wheys. Scientific fact. And yes, I admit to being from Texas, but that's beside the point. As everyone knows Texas is its own nation, like the District of Columbia."

Debate continued on the Senate floor over who was really from the South, while Sen. Miller led his dogs to a rusted-out pickup truck parked on the front lawn of the Capitol.

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I was an avid comic collector when I was younger. Which means I was a kid who stole.

I loved comics, and couldn't keep my hands off them. At least that's what the judge said. In my defense, I only borrowed them so I could read them, bag them, and keep them for a long time to see if they went up in value. That was a lousy defense. I never should have defended myself. But I was only 10, I don't know what the court was thinking. And they called me the idiot.

That's why I love to watch comic book movies. And why the movie theater always throws me out for not having a ticket. There's a lot of comic book movies coming out this year. I'm already gathering ticket stubs to get into see the big ones. Like the new Batman movie. And there's also a Fantastic Four movie. I think Cinderella Man was a comic book character, too, but I'm not gay, so I didn't read it. Not that I wasn't tempted, mind you.

When I was a kid I wanted to be in the Fantastic Four. My biggest problem, besides having no super-powers, was that I never knew which one I wanted to kill and take the place of. Probably the girl. Not that I hate women, 'cause I don't, but it would be real awkward hanging out with a married guy, his wife, and someone else. I'd be like a fourth wheel. Maybe that could be my power—all my married friends and the guy they hang out with say I'm good at it.

If I could have any super-power in the world, that would be a tough choice. I think it would be the power to make people forget I borrowed money from them. 'Cause that's something I need all the time. We'd corner this super-villain in a bank vault, me and the rest of the Fantastic Four, who I now lead, and I could just borrow all the money from him. Tell him I'm late with the rent or something, or my mom needs hangnail surgery. Some cool story. Then, he defeats the rest of them and asks for the money back, and I'm all like, "Dude, I paid that back to you weeks ago." And he gets real mad, but he believes it, and has no choice but to go to jail. I haven't worked all of it out, but I think I'm on the right track.

I could be called the Borrower. It's better than Thieving Asshole, and I think that's taken already anyway.

I wouldn't want any of the other Fantastic Four's powers. The Thing is all made of rocks. Dude, have you ever been hit with a rock? That shit hurts. So whenever he punches anyone it's like someone threw a rock at his hand. Great idea, Eisenstein. And there's the Invisible Chick… so what, big deal. I go to parties and people already can't see me there. Got that power. Then there's the Human Blowtorch. He uses his power to burn all his clothes off. I've tried that before, trust me, it's a dead end street. You just end up having to buy more clothes and neighbors file a complaint with the police department.

Then there's Dr. Fantastic, who has the greatest powers in that team. He can stretch over and pick things up. Can you imagine that? Throw the remote control out the window, who needs it? No more are the chips out of reach… ever! I wonder if that feels like work, to stretch real far. I hope not.

If I had that power… well, let's just say I've solved the problem that's always bothered mankind. No more waiting for the commercial to go to the bathroom. Sweet.

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To all those who have ever made fun of me, I have one thing to say: Eat a rotten cow out. For everyone who said or insinuated or made some kind of rude hand gesture suggesting my sister was more talented or smarter or cooler than I was in any case, I have one thing left to say: My sister is a gigantic sci-fi nerd.

That's right, my sister, Cassandra Coleman, the big-time successful lawyer and Harvard grad, the big-time book author, she's just a big old Trekkie underneath it all. Nobody was shocked more than me, I'll tell you that. The last thing you expect when you show up to a major metropolitan sci-fi convention is to find your sister at the head of the Terry Pratchett book-signing line dressed as Xena, Warrior Princess. In fact I'll make the bold declaration that any time you find your sister dressed as Xena, Warrior Princess, outside of a traditional costume party, is bad news.

She noticed me right away, and the mortification set in her face right away. She knew her cover was blown. Anyone who doesn't know, my sister sees herself as the downright respectable member of the Coleman family, although the rest of us like to put her in her place with a random insult or well-placed firecracker once in a while. But once word got back to our family, she knew all the jokes that had come before would pale in comparison.

Finally! That's all I have to say. Every time I show up to her office or palatial apartment she rolls her eyes like a bigshot or whatever and asks real condescending-like, "I suppose you need to borrow some money?" She's such a pretentious dildo all the time, thinking she's better than everybody and just chomping at the bit to put people in her place, and I would tell her so whenever I go there, but then she wouldn't lend me the money. One of these days I'm going to show up and pay her back, then really let her have it. And now I got all the material I need. It's my turn to roll my eyes and "tsk tsk" her, back to the stone age.

Since I was getting paid to show up to the convention, wearing my Queen Tongue outfit and signing autographs and such, I couldn't wait to blast her for it. That book-signing line was too long and ornery to wait around, but I knew I'd see her again since most of the convention spazzes show up for the filk prom. I was supposed to be on hand as a celebrity square dance conductor, so I would corner her there and give her the business.

To cut this story down to column length, let's just say the rest of the convention went splendidly and I was treated with supreme dignity and respect by all the pasty nimrods in attendance. A few of the guys asked me to dance, and some of them weren't all that bad looking, by sci-fi convention standards, and I would have danced with them, too, if I hadn't been wearing my Metallichick costume to the prom, since those bullet bra points can pierce the skin pretty easily with little force. I was the belle of the ball, like… well, like one of the handful of girls at a sci-fi convention. But my sister was off in the corner, sulking like the ugly duckling and staring at me guiltily.

When I caught up with her she was all but begging. "Please don't tell the folks, Clarissa," she asked me. "You know they get on me for every stupid little thing. You mention one thing about my Voyager fan fiction and the Spock jokes won't stop over the Thanksgiving dinner table."

Well, she was right about that. Give her credit for knowing the mom and pop, she's at least smart about one thing. And school subjects, so that's two things. So I told her I would keep her secret safe from the family, as long as I was allowed to tell anyone else I wanted to. She agreed, and then proceeded to tell me about the fantastic lesbian undertones of Xena and Gabrielle, and I pretended to care, a real sisterly moment.

It was a half decent time, for a sci-fi convention. And as soon as I figured out a way to tell everybody what a nerd she was, except my parents, I had some fun myself. I know they won't ever find out if I just put it in my column, reading something I wrote would be too much like showing support.

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