Attention: Rule 5 fans of Kelsee Brown

MANCHESTER, Ky. -- Remember the 19-year-old Democrat who got misrepresented in the MSM as typical of gummint-hatin' Clay Countians here in the region of Kentucky now notorious as Lower Glennbeckistan?

Well, it seems Kelsee is even less typical than anyone, myself included, had any cause to suspect. Which is to say, guys -- I hate to break you hearts -- but the beautiful Miss Brown is . . . playing for the other team.

Yup. And it was strange how this was revealed. You see, I'd gone to visit Judge Garrison, who owns a catfish farm about six miles outside Manchester, near Gray Fork Baptist Church. Judge Garrison, who was Clay County's judge executive for 13 years, is a humorous and insightful personality -- a real character -- who can talk for hours about the economic history of eastern Kentucky.

The Judge got to talking, showing me the fish ponds, and it was near sundown when I finally left. Coming back into Manchester, I planned to make a pit stop at McDonald's and then hit the road. But they had their parking lot blocked off for repaving, so I decided to make my pit stop at the Huddle House instead.

Having availed myself of the facilities, I sat down in a booth with my notes, a stack of local newspapers and a road atlas, to review my trip and plan my route home. Ordered coffee and hashbrowns. Then, when business slowed to nothing, Kelsee came over and sat across from me in the booth, just to chat about the video that made her semi-famous.

"Wow, it must have been tough being an Obama supporter in Corbin," I said, having learned during my visit here that her hometown has a reputation as a hotbed of racism.

She laughed and said, "Yeah, I was always the rebel in my family." And, as she then explained, her family is quite prominent in Corbin.

Hmmm. "So why'd you have to leave town?" I asked.

Logical inference. Corbin is much larger than Manchester, and for a 19-year-old from an affluent Corbin family to be working the grill here . . . Well, my inference was correct.

"Honestly?" Kelsee said. "You really want to know?"

Sure. Why not?

"I'm gay. I came out in the seventh grade, but I knew I was gay since third grade."

My expression must have ill concealed my amazement. OK, she said she was a rebel, and I could think of several ways that might have caused trouble in Corbin, Ky., but . . . Well, I never would have guessed that.

She's not a bitter, angry man-hater, though. As she said, she just likes more feminine-type personalities. Which was kind of weird, in that she seemed to like me a lot. But we don't want to contemplate that sort of complex geometric distortion in the gaydar bounce-back pattern, do we?

No, we don't. I'm a happily married father of six, and anyone who suggests that this is some sort of overcompensation should be warned that my Samoan attorney is notoriously sensitive about potentially libelous defamation. It's OK for me to call myself a "neo-Confederate lesbian" -- that's just self-referential humor -- but woe unto any Little Green Loser who doesn't get the joke.

Once again, it was that moment when a journalist must ask himself, "What Would Hunter S. Thompson Do?" And in this case, the answer was to say, "Well, I guess I'd better get rolling. Wife's expecting me Thursday morning . . . twelve-hour drive . . . nice to meet you, etc., etc."

You know something? I forgot to pay the bill. But I ran over here to the Manchester Regional Campus of Eastern Kentucky to file this final report before driving back, and now if I book it east out the parkway about 90 mph . . .

They'll never catch me. And Kelsee wouldn't dare press charges. Or would she?