A Dirty Word

It is not often that a man named Crapo is in the news the same week that a nationally recognized weatherman confesses to crapping in his pants at the White House.  It’s been a shitty week for both of them.

Senator David Crapo of Idaho, a self-described Mormon that does not drink alcohol, was arrested for DUI after downing some shots in his apartment.  He will not serve jail time as long as he exhibits good behavior over the next 12 month period, which I will assume means voting straight party line. 

On some level, it is gratifying to know that someone with a last name like Crapo can be elected to the United States Congress, even if it just Idaho we’re talking about.  This is no doubt good news for anyone named Asswipe (pronounced ‘ah-SWEE-pay’), Shithead, or Poop.  These folks now have hope that they can one day be taken seriously in the public square and not mercilessly ridiculed by an anonymous blogger.  It also proves that most of the public, at least in his lightly populated state, has a modicum (not an Imodium) of emotional maturity and can look past his giggle-inducing last name and towards his fine qualities as a legislator and leader. 

    

If you were involved in the most recent election battle on either side of the Crapo campaign, the suggested text for lawn signage must have been a non-stop juvenile laugh fest during the late night campaign office envelope-stuffing parties:

Supporters preferred:

·         Vote Crapo for No More Crapo in DC (or More Crapo Means Less DC Crapo)

·         No Stains on Crapo’s Record

·         I Crapo and I Vote

Opposition Signs included:

·         Crapo’s Crap

·         The last thing we need in Washington is more Crapo

·         Let’s Wipe Away Crapo on Nov. 7^th

·         Crapo Stinks

Then there is lovable weather junkie, Al Roker, the man whose face on the cover of TV Guide in one Seinfeld episode elevated him to iconic status in pop culture.   Alas, Al confessed to a gastro hit and run accident this week.  When you think Al Roker now, the elementary school comeback, “The one who smelt it, dealt it”, will immediately pop to mind.

In an interview on his own network, he talked at length about his battles with obesity and the unexpected and violent consequences of his weight loss solution.  He is the face of successful bariatric surgery, trim, slim and ready to rumble.  Unfortunately, we now know that his most infamous rumble occurred in his colon and erupted while he was walking towards the White House press room.  I am sure his initial plan was to stand next to Brit Hume and hope everyone blamed the smell on him.  It would fit the profile.  Roker instead shuffled to the men’s room, removed the crapo, and returned to his post.  

This incident might have gone down in political history as another unsolved White House leak, but Roker came clean (so to speak) during the interview on his network.    Talk about your wet weather coming from the South at 60 miles per hour.  “If the winds don’t get you, the precipitation will.  Take shelter NOW!” 

It is an interview clip that I could have done without.  I have high hopes that it will be a long time before “sharting” trends this high on Twitter again.

The Roker sharting incident and the Crapo DUI arrest share more than just the sophomoric bonds of a whisper campaign surrounding embarrassing bodily functions.  They share much more.  Both events humanized these famous figures and brought them down to the level of all Americans.  And that’s nice.  I mean, who can’t relate to drinking alone in their apartment and then going for a 45 minute drive around Alexandria to “unwind”?  Who can’t relate to suffering from a little toxic emission at the White House?  Happens all the time.  That place gets quite a bit of traffic in blowhards spewing from both ends.

These private episodes that are now public do leave me longing for the days when famous folks were humanized for the rest of us in simpler ways, like by the unauthorized release of a private sex recording on TMZ’s website.  Getting your name trending on Google was so much more exciting when your claim to fame was associated with fornication instead of excretion. 

Those were the days when ‘dirty’ meant sexy.  No more.  Thanks, Al and Crapo.  You both stink.