Trash disseminated in viral e-mails and publications seemingly printed in the lock-down wards of mental hospitals, as well as the distortions of people like Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh, is the price we endure to protect our First Amendment freedoms. A bargain price, actually. I’ve often heard the cliche that “I will fight to the death to protect the freedoms of of press and speech.” But if it ever comes to down to hand-to-hand combat, I will have to hold my nose and grit my teeth when defending some of the characters who exploit the First Amendment for financial and/or political gain.

Sadly, a scared and angry segment of victims accept much of the trash they read or hear as absolute fact, especially if it provides an some sort of explanation for the uncontrollable circumstances that impact their lives. People react rather than think when backed into corners by the loss of careers and financial security, fear of ethnic groups and religions they don’t understand, and the helplessness that overwhelms them in dealing with tragedies.

A close friend and good Republican whose knee doesn’t jerk when speaking with “liberals” like me— forwarded a viral e-mail of the worst kind today. He ask, “How is it possible to print trash like this?” The first two paragraphs of this post is the answer I sent him.

The missive in question is typical of wing-nut mentality. The writer stoops to exploiting homophobia by accusing the President, a few of his aides and several other public officials—liberal Democrats except for a retired Republican Senator—of being members of a notorious bathhouse for gays. The author and the website from which this fable emanates tries to paint a scenario built around a Chicago men’s club. But he offers not shred of evidence to support any allegation in the lengthy “column.”

Maybe the guy is plain ass crazy. However, my guess is he has problems dealing with his own sexuality. That is frequently the case among outspoken right-wing homophobes. I’ve lost count of the number of these guys who have been exposed as gays, or caught up in other sex scandals.

I’m reasonably certain the e-mail sent to me is being discarded by recipients possessing I.Q.’s that reach double digits. Yet, there will be a few people saying, “Have you read…blah, blah?” Toxic politics has created The Church of the Bizarre made up of a congregation of susceptible believers baptized by immersion in e-mails claiming the President was born in Africa.

The believe wild rumors and allegations must be true since they are part of the written word, instead of being passed along by whispers and rhetoric heard at Ku Klux Klan rallies and Tea Party events. But the “written word” does not transform fiction into reality.

Three decades ago, I was covering the life and travails of notorious mobster, Meyer Lansky when book was published about his mafia buddy, Lucky Luciano. As a I sat outside a grand jury room next to Lansky unsuccessfully trying to question him, a cop brought him a copy to autograph. The book gave a purported history of the association between the two organized crime figures. Lansky scribbled, “All that is written is not true,” a phrase he probably high-jacked from another author. Whatever the source, though, it has widespread application today, particularly  when reading Obama tales.   

And speaking of the President—a “straight” shooter aiming for a piece of B.P.’s butt, though not for gay sex—he visits Louisiana and the Gulf Coast for the fourth time, mainly because that is what Presidents are supposed to do. An important role of the nation’s Chief Executives is to press the flesh of victims of tragedies, often at the cost of ignoring other important issues requiring their presence in Washington. The trips are necessary to reassure disaster victims that they are not forgotten and ”will be made whole.”

There is, however, the inherent danger a politicizing the oil spill. Since the rig exploded, Democrats and Republicans alike have postured for the benefit of cameras. Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal is the biggest beneficiary. By acting like the man in charge, he has recovered from the “weeny-like” nationally television speech in 2009 that almost doomed his future prospects of becoming a Presidential candidate. He is doing a good job.

But Jindal has to walk a political tightrope or God forbid, homophobic characters of the far-left—I presume there are a few—will begin sending out toxic e-mails accusing him of being gay.

My memoir, Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger, is available at amazon.com and independent bookstores. It offers much more than $19.99 worth of laughs. The book is an account of my illustrious (I choose the adjectives) career.

I’m speaking today to the Sons of the American Revolution, so I’ve spent a little time pondering 1776 and what it means. To a great extent, my early investigative reporter ancestors sewed the roots of revolution. They distributed pamphlets raging about the rule of King George III. Indeed, I was among the muckrakers doing an exposé of the King. But 200 years later.

In 1976, Miami’s NBC affiliate produced a faux newscast on July 4th  depicting stories of the revolutionary era. As the station’s investigative reporter, I appeared in costume slinging mud at the King over corrupt activities. I don’t recall the specifics, other than it had something to do with profiteering by the monarch’s friends. Sound familiar?

As an aside, my 18th century costume was more appropriate than the garb I wore for my television debut three years before. On that occasion I dazzled south Florida with a gleaming white polyester coat, a black silk shirt, a sparkling, wide-body white tie and tinted glasses that turned opaque under the glare of studio lights. The station owner was not among those dazzled by my fashion. “I thought we hired this guy to investigate the mafia, not join it,” he said to the man who hired me.

But what the hell did I know about fashion? I had spent the previous five years in Louisiana dealing with bookies, ambulance chasing lawyers and colorful state legislators. In my mind, the outfit was the most suave clothing in my tacky wardrobe. Anyway, besides developing a taste for fashion in Louisiana, I learned about dirty politics—even becoming a participant.

In early sobriety in 1971, while trying to get my financial house in order, I committed  to paying bill collectors a certain amount of money each month. A few months later, I was $300.00 short of meeting the obligations. Not very much money, although it then seemed like thousands to me. At the very moment I sat pondering my dilemma, a political consultant friend called and asked me to do a television spot on behalf of a fringe gubernatorial candidate named Puggy Moity.

As was the custom in those days, political groups secretly underwrote the campaigns of straw men, who acted as attack dogs on behalf of candidates. The target in this instance was Edwin Edwards—running for the first of four terms he served as Governor. I had never done a political commercial, nor have I done one since. But the consultant, the late Brooks Read, made an offer I couldn’t refuse. He would pay me $300.00 to do the spot. I considered it an early miracle of my sobriety. As I recall, it was a 30 second ad that attacked Edwards for his frequent gambling junkets to Las Vegas.

Cheap shots have a long history in politics. Thomas Jefferson was attacked for his alleged affairs with slaves. And during the ensuing years, nearly every presidential candidate has withstood withering criticisms based on truth, half-truths, rumors and outright lies. Hence, I take in stride contemporary attacks that I know have no basis in fact. It’s our tradition.

Fifteen years ago, I learned first hand how vicious politics can be. As CNN’s designated muckraker covering the debacle called, Whitewater, I was a front row witness to abuses by the office of Independent Counsel Kenneth Starr. He and his minions aided and abetted the Republican Party in an effort to bring down Bill Clinton.

Before my right-wing friends and relatives get their bowels in an uproar, let me add that I have also been an eyewitness to the rhetoric of the left. I covered the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago and the 1972 Republican National Convention in Miami Beach. Those were the hippie years. And although our minds eye image is of young anti-war demonstrators marching against Vietnam, it was older and more extreme left-wingers, who gave a voice to the protestors.  

In 1968, establishment Democratic candidate Hubert Humphrey narrowly lost in an election that was influenced by a backlash from television images showing out-of-control demonstrators in Chicago. And responding to the left in 1972, Democrats nominated George McGovern. He was soundly defeated by Richard Nixon by a margin equal to that of the John Birch Society’s favored candidate—Barry Goldwater. He was crushed in 1964 by Lyndon Baines Johnson. If there is a lesson in all this, it is that people who scream the loudest don’t have much influence on elections. At least not in a positive way. Nonetheless, journalists—especially cable news—give them more coverage than they deserve.

No doubt, many of screamers of the 1960’s and seventies are now involved in the Tea Party movement. That’s what makes the country great. Not only do they have the right to march and protest, they also have the freedom to change their minds and jump from far-left to far-right.

From my perspective, dirty politics is good clean fun.

I apologize for the gaffe. My slip was intentional. Just wanted to piss off some of my right-wing relatives. I realize that Tea Partiers don’t dress in sheets and pillow cases, although a few wear the garb depicted in accounts of  the original Tea Party in  1773, when colonists in Boston revolted against British imposed taxes. Also let me quickly clarify that Tea Partiers don’t hang people. They only hang signs portraying President Obama as a modern day Hitler, complete with a mustache. 

Fortunately, the placards were not on display during a Tea Party convention at Opryland in Nashville, Tennessee. Nor were any black faces on display. At least as far as I could tell from watching CNN (I know. My former employer is supposed to be a liberal media outlet and would not show African-Americans, even if they were in attendance). It seems, however, that GOP National Chairman Michael Steele would have agreed to be a token black in a white sea of voters who generally pull the Republican lever. But he had a “conflict.” Anyway, I’ve now had my fun.

Seriously, folks, on the way to this blog, I had a few rationale thoughts about protest groups that have sprung up throughout our nation’s history. They most often gain momentum when the country is in the throes of change and hard times. Indeed, the Ku Klux Klan was founded in 1865 in Pulaski, Tennessee by a small group of defeated Confederate soldiers, and subsequently became a force to deal with politically. Membership peaked at five-million. And despite a murderous and dispicable history, it had sufficient influence to force the 1924 Democratic Presidential Convention to abandon a party plank outlawing the KKK. Today, there are still hate-filled Klan lunatics who wrap themselves in sheets and scream epithets at blacks and other minorities. But the violence has subsided and the Klan’s main role is wearing regalia that amuses those of us with perverted senses of humor. 

Of more enduring historial impact on the country is the Share Our Wealth Society, which was founded in 1934 during the depression era by the “Kingfish”—Huey P. Long. Prior to his assassination in 1935, Long simultaneously served as U.S. Senator and Louisiana Governor. Relying on national radio broadcasts and a motto, Every Man a King, he developed a following so large that historians credit him with forcing FDR to expand New Deal proposals out of fear that the Kingfish would  become a third-party candidate in 1936 Presidential election, thus handing over the White House to the GOP. In more contemporary times, off-brand populist movements have also played a role in shaping politics.

As CNN’s senior investigative correspondent in 1992, I was assigned to dig  into the background of Ross Perot—the declared, then undeclared and finally re-declared independent Presidential candidate. His rehearsed sound-bites garnered him eighteen percent of the vote and according to many experts, cost George Herbert Bush a second term. The results of the election prompted Perot to create Reform Party USA. Its greatest success was electing Jesse Ventura as Governor of Minnesota in 1998.

By the time the party was formed, voters had already tired of Ross Perot’s repetitive blabbing. And I can understand why. In 1992, I spent a miserable hour with the little barking lap dog while gathering material for a segment that aired as part of  a CNN series titled, Democracy in America. In my on-camera interview with Perot, several questions deviated from his tightly scripted message. However, the questions were well-researched and considerably more substantive than Katie Couric asking Sara Palin what newspapers she read. I thought Perot was going to throw me out of his office when I pointed out the many contradictions in the  manufactured myth of a horseback riding paperboy, who became a billionaire and rescued his employees from an Iranian prison. Still, Perot was more coherent than Sarah Palin. Ross could even put a noun, verb and object in a sentence.

Is Palin an inarticulate Perot? Darned if I know. Golly, gee, she just confuses the heck out of me. There was a woman speaking at the Tea Party convention who claimed to be Sarah Palin. But gosh, it could have been Tina Fey doing her dead-on Saturday Night Live impression. Sarah Palin reportedly asked for $100,000 to appear at the convention. Goodness gracious alive, that sure is a lot of money. I worry, I mean really, really, really worry that maybe Tina Fey was sub-contracted for only $75,000, allowing Ms. Palin to pocket the remainder and spend the weekend in Alaska shooting moose.

Bizarre speculation. But not as bizarre as some of things I hear coming out of the mouths of Tea Party folks—such as questions about President Obama’s birthplace. Or for that matter, as bizarre as some of the Washington escapades, like one spiteful senator blocking 80 Obama nominations to important Administration positions. I hope the Tea Party anger is being directed at both sides of the aisle. There are plenty of targets in Congress for everyone, regardless of  political persuation. Everybody I know, left, right and in the middle agrees with Tea Partiers that partisan gridlock must end.

There is no comparison between the KKK and the Tea Party Nation. It was just my sick joke. In reality, Tea Partiers did not exclude blacks from the convention. Reliable sources have told me that several African-Americans were allowed to serve food and clean-up after the meals.