2012 Cracked Crowns
From the cringe-inducing headline “Mistressville, USA” to a giant catfish to ridiculous campaign ads, 2012 was a year to remember. Or forget. OK, now we’re confused. So let’s just get to the awards
By Jeremy Markovich
Illustrations by Gary Hovland
So Really, If You Think About It, Not Much Has Changed for Paula Broadwell
At the beginning of the year, Dilworth resident Paula Broadwell was an author who had received unprecedented access to CIA director David Petraeus. At the end of the year, Dilworth resident Paula Broadwell was an author who had received unprecedented access to CIA director David Petraeus. Think about that. Heh.
It Could’ve Been Worse. They Could Have Called Us “Tampa”
In the early media frenzy over the Petraeus/Broadwell story, a writer named Diane Dimond wrote a thinly reported story for The Daily Beast (that’s what they’re calling Newsweek’s website now, y’all) about Broadwell living in the same neighborhood that Rielle Hunter, John Edwards’s (former? Current? Who knows) objet d’amour, used to call home. The story was headlined “Dilworth, Charlotte: Mistressville, USA?” This being Charlotte, and The Daily Beast being national media, we were delighted with the attention.
Rielle Hunter, Connoisseur of Scalps
In her book, which we’re sure you haven’t read, former senator John Edwards’s mistress wrote about the media besiegement of her home near Freedom Park (she’s since moved). One quote: “How scary is it that I can identify Jim Morrill, a political reporter from The Charlotte Observer whom I have never met, by spotting the top of his head?” It is scary, yes. But not for the reason that she thinks it’s scary.
One of the Original Renderings of the New Knights Ballpark Was Really Just a Copy-Paste of the Current Columbus Clippers Ballpark.
Ctrl-C, Ctrl-V. Because who’s gonna know, really?
Jimmy Clausen, Boy Blunder
Jimmy Clausen has had a rough time. Three years ago, he was the Panthers’ starting quarterback. Now he’s the third-stringer and this year tweeted about, among other things, getting a bad haircut at Supercuts and searching for face cream. It could be worse. Charles Johnson, the Panthers’ $72 million defensive end, missed his flight in February and tweeted—repeatedly—about flying standby.
It’s Bev Time
Governor Bev Perdue, the real one, said the passage of her state’s anti-gay marriage amendment made North Carolina look like Mississippi. A fake Perdue Twitter account (@GovBevPerdue) tweeted: “Called the Mississippi governor today and apologized for my remarks. Offered to send him some Bojangles Bo-Berry biscuits to make amends.” The Huffington Post bit. (The real Perdue, by the way, didn’t apologize).
Billy Graham, Outsourcer of Words
This summer, the Rev. Billy Graham, ninety-three, felt so strongly about Chick-fil-A’s support of traditional marriage that he issued a statement in which he vowed to travel to the fast food joint to have lunch. And then he didn’t. And it turns out, he didn’t actually say he was going to do so. Rather, a group of people crafted a message for Graham, which we all took to be his actual words, since it included the word “said” and was surrounded by quotation marks.
Robert Pittenger Is Not Impressed
The incoming congressman from North Carolina’s ninth district aired a campaign ad during the primary election and, in it, made this face. If you had to spend more than $1 million of your own money to get elected, you’d make this face too.
Cherie Berry’s Fake Twitter Account May Be Is More Interesting than the Real Cherie Berry
North Carolina’s Commissioner of Labor has her picture in every elevator in the state. Somebody created a parody Twitter account (@elevatorqueen) in which she discusses Black Friday shopping with Bev Perdue, salsa dancing with Senator Richard Burr, and yeah, elevators. A sample tweet from Thanksgiving: “After all this food today I don’t even know if *I* would fit the weight limit on my elevators.”
It’s Sort of Like the Scenes in Home Alone With the Pizza Delivery Guy
The shimmering golden statue in the median near the intersection of Queens, Queens, Providence, and Providence did what a lot of things in medians do: it got hit by a car. Then, the driver left the scene of the accident. (Coward! May he face the wrath of a thousand Internet commenters!) Not to worry: The statue’s back. We rebuilt him. We had the technology.
Just Think of the Po’ Boy You Could Make!
WFAE’s Julie Rose did a lovely story about people who fish in the pond at Freedom Park, which seemed cute and innocuous until you got to the end and you learned that a man named Jose Sosa caught a twenty-one-pound catfish there. Sosa used a plastic bottle and fishing line (bor-ring!), but we suggest a new slogan for Parks and Rec: Freedom Park: a perfect place to take the kids hillbilly handfishin’.
DNC, Where the D Stands for Debt
If you thought you knew what the words “on track” meant, the Democratic National Convention was a game-changer for you. All year long, the host committee assured the media that fundraising for the convention was on track. Every time a member of the host committee found themselves in front of a microphone, a reporter would ask how much of the $36.5 million they had raised. “We’re on track,” would come the answer. The convention came and went. The host committee announced it had come up $10 million short. (Next time we buy a 75-cent Coke from a vending machine, we’re going to put in 50 cents and tell the machine that we’re on track to get another quarter. We’ll see if we get that can.)