For weeks and weeks, something has bothered me to no end. Something I just can’t figure out. And it’s left me a mental mess.

Occasionally, I find myself staring blankly into the TV screen; it’s off, and I’ve lost all sense of time, and oh my God, am I drooling? But I’m not … I haven’t … not in years. What the bloody hell is happening to me? Has Paula Abdul’s pill-popping soul departed her body and leapt into mine.

Oh, wait, I know what happened. I was thinking about Theodis Ealey’s “Stand Up in It” again.

What? You haven’t heard “Stand Up in It”? That’s OK. The song is in regular rotation on 1390 WXTC, the Lowcountry’s new classic soul station. It’s a great station. You should be listening to it.

But, here’s the thing: if “Stand Up in It” comes on, you need to turn the dial immediately. I beg you.

Not that “Stand Up in It” isn’t a sweet bit of ear candy. It’s just that it’ll mess with your mind. Or at least the lyrics will. Let me show you what I mean:

All you wanna be lovers/ There’s something you need to know/ Now this old lady told me a story a long time ago.

She said Theodis, men think they know what women want/ But the truth about the whole thing is, boy, they really don’t/ She said, I had a man who thought he was the world’s greatest lover/ But when you add his time up/ He was just a five minute brother

He used to lick it/ Mmm/ He used to stroke it/ You know one night we was makin’ love, he said/ This thing is so damn good I wanna put it in my pipe and smoke it.

She said, Theodis you need to know/ That you can lick it/ And you can stroke it/ And you can kiss it/ And you can eat it/ But you ain’t done a dog gone thing until you stand up in it

Stroke it, kiss it, eat it — I understand. But “stand up in it”? Is this something involving strapping on a pair of goulashes? Dressing up like Paddington Bear? Eating toast and marmalade?

Theodis, pal, how is this song supposed to help me become a world-class lover if I can’t figure out what the Sam Jackson you’re talking about? Clarence “Strokin'” Carter, you are not. Cripes, you’re not even Billy Squier.

Maybe I should ask Jim DeMint, South Carolina’s junior birdman in the U.S. Senate. Judging by a recent op-ed in The Wall Street Journal, the man’s mind is in the gutter.

Here’s what naughty Mr. DeMint had to say:

“To win back the trust of the American people, we must be a ‘big tent’ party. But big tents need strong poles, and the strongest pole of our party — the organizing principle and the crucial alternative to the Democrats — must be freedom.”

Big tents? Strong poles? The thrust of the American people? Jim, buddy, this is The Wall Street Journal, not a pun-filled ad for Enzyte. (Oh. My bad. He said “trust of the American people.”)

Well, I don’t know about the rest of South Carolina, but I’ve had enough, and so have my brothers and sisters in the Slumber Party. And we’ve finally decided to do something about it.

So here goes: Jim — you, me — it’s time we faced off. Not in the political arena. Nope. In the bedroom. I challenge you to a pillow fight.

That’s the only way we’re going to be able to bring this feud to an end.

Now, I know that you probably don’t do things this way. You’re used to facing off against people in elections. But that’s not how the Slumber Party does it.

So, how about it, Jim? Friday night. My house. A sleepover. You’re invited. Bring your pillow and prepare to be pummelled.

And if that doesn’t settle it, then we’ll move on to a game of truth or dare. And if we’re lucky, maybe spin the bottle.

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