The Week — Showers, secret plans and unimportant tenderloins

HUCKABEE IDENTIFIES AS JERK

So word comes this week of reason No. 5,117 why Mike Huckabee, former Arkansas governor and the Paula Deen of presidential politics, is not riding a bright comet streaking toward the White House.

Huckabee, who once compared a person's sexual orientation to ordering up a gimlet, extra dry, now has been shown to be similarly hilarious regarding this whole zany deal with transgendered people trying to authentically live their lives.

Video evidence arrived this week.

'Now I wish that someone told me that when I was in high school that I could have felt like a woman when it came time to take showers in PE,” Huckabee told the National Religious Broadcasters Convention back in February. 'I'm pretty sure that I would have found my feminine side and said, ‘Coach, I think I'd rather shower with the girls today.' '

And now I want to take a shower.

Of course, a bunch of killjoys prattling on about how people should be treated with respect, dignity and decency, not as cheap punch lines by some stale plate of grits, thought this was bad. Figures.

What they need to understand is, for guys like Huckster, their complete understanding of the complexities of human sexuality stopped evolving in that high school locker room. Anything encountered beyond that point that confused them, was not fully covered in 'Porky's” or made them feel uncomfortable, instantly became a big funny joke, or, of course, horrendous bullying.

Then, they towel-snapped their way to powerful elected office, where they transformed their discomfort, confusion and super-funny derision into laws, policies and platforms. Men of faith, who put much faith in the once-immense political advantage derived from turning their fellow Americans into culture war scapegoats and second-class citizens. Classic, dudes.

Fortunately, outside the locker room, the world changed. Heaping scorn on people for laughs and votes is going out of fashion. Those scapegoats are our family, friends and neighbors. We think they've gotten a rotten deal, and it's time things change.

Huckabee missed the phone call. Maybe he was in the shower.

Of course, all of this Huckery became entangled in Caitlyn Jenner's big introduction, which apparently broke the Twitter and caused Rush Limbaugh to swallow his cigar.

Soon after came a decathlon of social media convulsions, topped by a pitched war over the true meaning of 'courage.”

To make a long recurring nightmare short, those who saw courage in Jenner's decision to live her life on her terms, and said so, crashed head-on into folks who swiftly posted photos of soldiers and firefighters exhibiting 'real” courage. All of the usual suspects jumped into the furious fray, hacking away with bandwidth-busting righteousness. The platitudes were piled like cordwood.

In vain, I called NASA, but there is no chance of meteorites anytime soon.

OK, yes, you knuckleheads, Jenner didn't storm the beaches at Normandy or run across a field under withering fire to carry a wounded comrade to safety. A Vanity Fair spread can be brutal. But it's no Antietam.

And yet, it's also absurd to insist that the only places to see real courage are in a burning building, on a battlefield or on a movie screen depicting either one. If that's the case, I've got a bone to pick with a lot of those ABC Afterschool Specials I had to watch.

There is courage in everyday struggles to live life and pursue happiness, in the face of challenges, indifference and chronic nastiness, and not end up in a bourbon-soaked fetal position. Those challenges are much larger and daunting for transgendered people, who must face down everything from callous misunderstanding to hatred and violence. Doing that takes courage. I respect that, and admire it.

The good news is the times are a-changing, and more and more Americans have their backs. Guys like Huckabee are fast becoming the real jokes. And I could use a gimlet.

TRUMP'S SECRET PLAN

Follow presidential politics long enough, and you'll find that much of what would-be presidents say about foreign policy is pretty much, with some exceptions, fantasy. What they envision they'll do as president bears little resemblance to what they'll actually have to do as president.

George W. Bush was not going to nation-build. Barack Obama was going to project a cooperative spirit globally. With armed drones, apparently.

Now comes Donald Trump's fantasy.

He told the Mason City Globe-Gazette he has a hush-hush plan to defeat the Islamic State, which you might call ISIS:

When asked about his plan to defeat ISIS, which he has not revealed yet, he said, 'I hate to announce it in many ways because it just lets them fortify and do they wouldn't be able to do.”

Trump said when politicians talk about what they will do to defeat the enemy, that just gives away the plan to them.

But he said he will most likely give information on his plan to different people over the next few weeks and months.

Trump said his plan would 'bring them to the table and more importantly defeat them very quickly.”

Stay tuned. And fortify yourselves.

Because Trump says he's about to prove all the people wrong, like me, who predicted he wouldn't run for president. I guess when punditry fails, there's still prayer.

POLL OF THE WEEK

The Register of Des Moines' Iowa Poll asked Iowans whether it's important for a candidate for president campaigning in Iowa to eat a pork tenderloin sandwich. On this point, Republicans and Democrats agree. It is not important. Tasty, but not important.

Other things are much more important. Answering questions from voters is important to more than nine in 10 Democrats and Republicans. More than seven-in-ten said answering media questions is important. Go figure. I'd have bet our importance would be wedged somewhere between a tenderloin and a funnel cake.

But fewer than 40 percent of Republicans and fewer than 30 percent of Democrats think it's important for candidates to attend the Iowa State Fair. I strongly disagree. For one thing, if you can't properly flip a pork chop or feign enthusiasm for some deep-fried monstrosity thrust into your face with 30 cameras rolling, forget the presidency.

And unlike so many orchestrated, partisan campaign events, the fair is one place where candidates might encounter Iowans who are not enamored with them, or who don't even know who the heck they are. It's a good grounding experience, standing next to a giant sleeping boar, knowing you're a less popular attraction. The jokes write themselves.