McToiletgate Continues...

My litmus test for what would make a good blog post or column is simple: Would I tell this story to my girlfriends?

It's no more complicated than that. If it's a story I'd tell over martinis on a girls' night out or between the swings with my mom friends at the playground, then I know there's a chance you guys would enjoy reading about it, too.

And so, as I drove home from a freelance television production job I did a few weeks ago, that's exactly how I came up with a recent column. Wow, Martina McBride was surprisingly un-divalike, I thought to myself. I'll have to tell my girlfriends that the only thing she did wrong was forget to flush the toilet! I laughed out loud. And that's when I knew I had a column.

The column that I wrote should have been no big deal. The way I saw it, if Martina even read it, she would either consider it too minor and local (and maybe, dare I say, funny?) to even bother addressing-- or she'd have one of her "people" write a sarcastic and humorous letter to the editor assuring Nashvillians that she usually does flush, and that the situation I wrote about was highly unusual.

I certainly didn't expect television producers to send me threatening e-mails. I didn't expect my home phone number to be handed out freely to industry people with only the most tenuous connection to the story. I didn't expect this kind of end-of-the-world reaction by a very small group of people over a funny story that didn't seem to offend either her fans who read it (because be assured that my editor or I would have heard from them), or the many readers who responded on my blog about the column.

I don't like being bullied. I think it's wrong. I think Martina is amazingly talented and I think she seemed quite nice at the shoot (which I made clear in the column), but I don't think that a few hit records mean that if I, one of the "little people", have a funny encounter with her, I'm bound by some celebrities-are-above-us code not to write about it. And I think the industry fallout from this ruckus is painting a much darker, more humorless picture of the entertainment world than I realized existed.

That's why in this week's Nashville Scene edition of Suburban Turmoil, I wrote an open letter to Martina McBride. Some day, I'm sure I'll laugh again about McToiletgate. Right now, I think I'll just change my phone number. The full text of the column is below...

An Open Letter to Martina McBride

Dear Martina,

Well, I’ve really stepped in it this time.

I mean, crap, I had no idea that you would be so peeved about the piddling little column I wrote a few weeks ago, in which I let it slide that you hadn’t flushed the toilet during a recent photo shoot. Judging from the angry phone calls and threatening e-mails I received from various entertainment industry types after the piece ran, though, I can only conclude that the shit has hit the fan over at Martina McBride, Inc. From all the wailing and gnashing of teeth, I imagine that endless damage control meetings have been taking place in your war room, complete with an oversized timeline of the events leading up to your bathroom break and diagrams of toilets and how they work. Maybe that sounds extreme, but then so does this rant I received in my inbox last week from LA Talent Producer Robin Roth:

“I will make sure the word is out in Nashville and Los Angeles that you are not to be trusted. I can see why you don't Field Produce anymore as I am sure you don't have a good reputation and you are probably bitter about that. You bad mouth celebrities and what you did is worse than anything I have seen a celebrity do!”

Gee whiz. Was it just me, or did she seem a wee bit upset?

Oh, Martina, I got so flushed when I read that e-mail. I couldn’t believe that writing about your admittedly minor faux pas was worse even than Sara Evans’ messy divorce, or Michael Vick’s dog fighting ring, or OJ Simpson’s armed robbery scandal. And I could just picture Robin Roth writing my name in red Sharpie on bathroom walls in Nashville and Los Angeles, followed by the words, “NOT TO BE TRUSTED!” Talk about stirring the pot!

Being the Country Superstar that you are, I wouldn’t dare suggest that the stink that’s been raised is a little, well, extreme, particularly in light of the fact that I used the potty incident only to illustrate my point that you were so incredibly wonderful (like an angel, really. Although I doubt those stilettos are allowed in Heaven. Something about piercing the clouds…) that forgetting to flush was the only thing I could find wrong with you. But maybe it will make you feel better knowing that that more than 200 readers now have sent me their comments about the column and not one of them was disturbed or outraged by the toilet incident. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Just ask Jessica, who wrote the following:

“In a world of rehab and drunken racist rampages and jail time and head-shaving mental breakdowns, it was refreshing to read a cute, funny anecdote about someone famous. It was nice to read a story showing that celebrities can be lovely, classy, friendly and yet down-to-earth -- and even, gasp, HUMAN!”

In fact, some especially compassionate readers even had helpful suggestions on how you could best respond to what now could only be described as McToiletgate. This from local blogger Southern Beale:

“I, for one, would have spun the story this way: ‘Martina McBride is concerned about conserving natural resources during this drought-filled summer. She urges everyone to follow in her example. Please watch for her new hit single, 'If It's Yellow Let It Mellow.'"

A reader calling himself “BruinGeek” had another idea on how you could profit off the column:

“What a great time for Martina to release an "American Standard" album and do a remix of "It's Depends Aunt's Day", "Love's the Only (Out) House", "Where Would You Pee", "Porcelain Angel" and “Life #2!” he wrote.

Of course, I’m willing to entertain the notion that I may have gotten it all wrong. Maybe you’re not pissed at all, but you feel like you have to put a stop to rogue stay-at-home moms writing about your bathroom habits, because if I get away with it, where will it end? The next thing you know, Beverly Keel will be writing about the time you got broccoli between your teeth, and what’s-his-name over at Channel Two will report on hearing you belch at The Palm. It won’t be long before people will think the unthinkable… that you are, indeed, just like everyone else.

Look, Marti (can I call you Marti?), I’d love to keep this whole thing above the rim and let you clear the air by giving readers your side of the story. Perhaps you’d like to schedule an interview. Tell you what. Have your people call my people and we’ll see if we can arrange a meeting at Mortons.

I’m pretty sure the toilets are on auto-flush there.