My Visit to Racist South Carolina

K T Cat here with another guest post for Dean who is supposed to be on vacation and taking a break from blogging.

I just got back from a trip to Charleston, South Carolina. Now as we all know, South Carolina is in the heart of the old Confederacy and therefore it is populated by stupid racists. They don't have many teeth left and all they want is to bring back slavery. Well, OK, that's not entirely true. The blacks don't want slavery to return, obviously. Instead, they're noble victims who are hoping that change is coming with the ascension, err, coronation, err, revelation, err, oh, now I've got it, election of Obama.

While in Charleston, I visited several establishments notorious for being hotbeds of racism. Two such were a Waffle House diner and a WalMart. What I saw would surprise no one.

To be honest, I didn't actually observe any racism, but using the techniques of Maureen Dowd, I heard the unspoken words that truly indicated how people down there felt about each other. In the excerpts below, the parts in italics were what my DowdRadar picked up.

From the Waffle House

Jimmy the white trucker comes in the door and Latisha the black waitress greets him ...

Latisha: Hi, Jimmy! You're late this morning. Are your friends going to join you? Or have the Feds picked them up for their participation in the hate rally?

Jimmy: G'morning, Latisha. I don't rightly know where they are. They'll be a long in a bit. I suspect they're out buying rope. All these lynchings are depleting our supplies.

Latisha: I'll get your coffee. But I won't poison it. I have no need for that. The righteous might of Barack Obama will soon sweep down upon you all!

Jimmy: That coffee smells good. But not as good as the smell of gasoline burning black churches to the ground!

It went on like that. I escaped before the race war began. Later in the day I was at the local WalMart to get some Palmetto beer (made on a local plantation by oppressed blacks whipped by the racist whites, no doubt) when I saw a mixed-race couple walk in the door, hand in hand.

The black greeter said hello and the white clerk helped them find what they were looking for. Oh sure, it looked all cheerful and pleasant, but thanks to my DowdRadar, I could see the riot that was about to happen. I managed to buy my beer and flee the scene before the shooting and lynching and burning and killing began. I know it happened, too. The papers were all quiet about it the next day and there was nothing on the news, but I know it happened.

After all, this was Racist South Carolina.