Perhaps you heard that Blanche Lincoln is only one of two Democrats who voted to filibuster even debating Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. Whatever her personal feelings about gay people may or may not be is irrelevant. For all intents and purposes, she is a straight up homophobe.
She’s also going to lose in November, so I figured now was as good a time as any to excerpt a part of an extremely funny book that particularly made me squeal with laughter. The book is called Video Slut: How I Shoved Madonna Off an Olympic High Dive, Got Prince into a Pair of Tiny Purple Woolen Underpants, Ran Away from Michael Jackson’s Dad, … So I Could Bring Rock Videos to the Masses, and it’s a memoir by video producer Sharon Oreck. In it, she relates this short tale:
It turns out to be a ribs-’n-chicken barbecue at Jerry Hall’s London townhouse, which includes all of Mick’s family and some of Mick’s friends, who turn out to include most of the century’s most famous rock stars and their dates. Mary has also brought her sister Blanche, who somehow managed to get through college in the mid-eighties without any exposure to illicit drugs, promiscuous sex, or any stupid pop songs besides “Hot Legs”.
“Is that guy Rod Stewart?” Blanche kept whispering.
“No,” we kept whispering back, “That’s Eric Clapton.”
“How ’bout that one? Or that one?” She tries again and again.
“Nope, Bill Wyman, Pete Townsend.”
Yes, this black hole of even mild amounts of culture awareness was Blanche Lincoln. Not that I’m arguing that there’s a connection between being so unaware of rock music that you don’t know who the Who is even in the 1980s makes you the sort of asshole who would vote to keep kicking gay people out of the military. But I do think the voters should be aware there’s at least a correlation here that they should be aware of in the future.
Also: ha! I hope that Blanche’s single Rod Stewart album keeps her occupied after the voters of Arkansas send her packing.