One of the dumber remarks of the 1984 Presidential campaign—a campaign notable for its dumb remarks—came from Joe Frank Harris, governor of Georgia. Asked if he approved of Geraldine Ferraro, he replied: “Yes. I asked her if she had eaten grits and liked them, and she said, ‘Yes’—and she passed the test.”

He should have asked if she knew what they were. Most politicians will eat anything for a vote.


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Here in the South, we don’t like our politicians red, but hot dogs are another matter. Hot dog trials at the Chicago Tribune put the ruby-red “Rebel” brand dead last, but a weenie expert told the paper that bright red varieties are popular throughout the South. Consumers in other regions prefer a dog with a brownish cast; on the West Coast they like a coarse grind and heavy smoke; Northeasterners like a soupçon of garlic.


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“Southern-fried chic” has receded somewhat from its high-water mark in the first year of the Carter Administration, but it is still to be found here and there. A Raleigh News and Observer reporter found, to her dismay, a New York restaurant called Carolina, where the “barbecue” is grilled on mesquite and served on a bed of leaf lettuce with Dijon mustard. A side order of slaw costs $2.25. The owner, a native New Yorker who concocted his recipes himself, says the restaurant’s name came to him in a dream. Maybe he should try red hot dogs.


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Male bourbon-drinkers beware! In the worst news for Southern taste since the discovery that snuff-dipping causes gum recession, Judith Gavaler of the University of Pittsburgh has reported that your Julep contains betasitosterol, biochanin A, and genistein.

What (you might well ask) are those? Well, they are phyto-estrogens—estrogens derived from plants. Men with healthy livers probably have nothing to worry about, but if you have cirrhosis, these chemicals may produce the same unfortunate effects as animal (or steroidal) estrogen, to wit: your voice may change, your beard may thin, and your figure may become more . . . voluptuous. (And you thought white wine did it, didn’t you?) Of course, if you have cirrhosis, you have more important things to worry about.


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Speaking of food, an AP dispatch in the Norfolk Ledger-Star reports that Southside Virginia tobacco growers, in a move about 200 years overdue, are diversifying into crops like broccoli and cantaloupe. It is absurd that Richmond households have been paying premium prices for California cantaloupes that average two and a half pounds and are grown with thick rinds to protect them in transit. Now that they can buy thinner-skinned, sixpound, locally grown melons, we must hope they haven’t forgotten what cantaloupes are supposed to be like.


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In other agricultural news, a UPI dispatch reported that the 21,000 pound satellite carried into orbit by Challenger in April 1984 contained (among other things) kudzu seeds from the Park Seed Company. The seeds were

to have been picked up and returned to earth in February. I have scanned my usual sources diligently for news of their return and some hint of how they liked it up there, but I have seen nary a word. Why is this being kept from the American people?


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Kudzu in space—and rhesus monkeys in Florida. The New York Times News Service reports that, like walking catfish, leprous armadillos, giant South American toads, wild parrots, love bugs, and retired Canadians, monkeys have come to Florida, liked it, and stayed. Some 300 troublesome specimens, apparently descended from eight escapees from the set of a 1939 Tarzan movie, started attacking citizens and otherwise making a nuisance of themselves in the wilds around Silver Springs.

The hard-pressed officers of the Florida Game and Freshwater Fish Commission ordered Silver Springs to do something and found themselves labeled “savages” and “Gestapo scumbags” when Silver Springs began to trap the monkeys and sell them to a Pennsylvania medical research supply house. At last word, the trapping had stopped, and 140 or so monkeys were being left undisturbed—but no doubt there are more by now.


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Monkeys notwithstanding, the South has, for virtually the first time, turned up on the top of a “quality of life” survey. The Southern states have finished last in these things with monotonous regularity ever since H.L. Mencken put them down (way down) in his studies of “civilization” in the 1920’s.

Now Robert Pierce, a New York geographer, has asked people to tell him what they think is important about a place (researchers from Mencken on have always decided that themselves). Pierce’s sample of New Yorkers told him that they valued, in order: economic conditions, climate, low crime rates, housing, education, health care, recreation, transportation, and the arts. Weighting accordingly. Pierce determined that the best American city was Greensboro, followed by Knoxville, Asheville, Nashville, and Raleigh. Weighting the factors (rather than counting them all equally) reduced the scores of really big cities and improved those of smaller places. New York, for example, was 26th (of 277) with an unweighted index, but fell to 156th when the weights were applied.

Perhaps shipping those poor monkeys to Pennsylvania was a cruel thing to do.