"It took me a while to understand what the caller was yelling about. Over the years, I've heard from dozens of readers angry about an article or an image in C-VILLE. Usually I can glean the source of their irritation quickly. The talk of "a woman's behind" in June was unambiguous: a cover story probing why a dozen things aren't available in Charlottesville—really important things, like a Saks and a strip club. Some people denounced the booty on the cover (and apparently missed its humor). Maybe they didn't like the dancer's absurdly round, bikini-clad buttocks; maybe they didn't like the satisfied expression on the face of the man pictured looking at her.

But the shrill sounds of, "How could you publish something so racist?" caught me off guard.

The offending words, it turned out, were published in The Rant.

The caller was under the impression that the views expressed in The Rant—or at least a rant that was deemed especially offensive—belonged to C-VILLE, per se. The phoned-in "joke" went something like this:

How do you keep a canoe from tipping? Paint it black.

If these had been the words of C-VILLE, that would mean either 1) our good-joke meter was way off-kilter; 2) some of us were unhappily moonlighting as waiters; or 3) there is a heretofore undiscovered alluvial expertise in our ranks; or, maybe, 4) we were racists.

If that rant had not originated with us, then perhaps simply in publishing these anonymous words we were condoning the sentiments. Which I guess means that in publishing the unaccountably popular and recurring rants about socks and sandals we condone the twinning of those two items of dress, too.

To be clear, The Rant is a verbatim chronicle of callers' views. The guidelines for publishing have been the same for several years: If you keep it under one minute, keep clear of threats or libel, and keep it audible, you can expect to see it published. Mumblers, stalkers and defendants-in-waiting should find another place to play. (Try it yourself. Call now at 817-2749, ext. 55.)

Many rants are infantile or ugly, but even those provide a few moments' amusement or puzzlement or irritation—but that's all. Really, who needs to linger with someone's complaint about rude, text-messaging drivers?

But for a few weeks in the fall, The Rant took on more serious overtones, thanks to the black canoe joke. The joke highlighted what has always been embedded in The Rant, anyway.

If you want to get high-minded about it, The Rant is a free speech vehicle. And what any constitutional scholar will tell you is that while the First Amendment's free speech protections guarantee that government cannot get in the way, mostly, of what you want to say, it doesn't promise that everything you'll hear coming out of everyone else's mouth will be pretty or nice or smart or meaningful or race-neutral. The government does not protect you from other people's nasty ideas. And while C-VILLE is not the government, we won't protect you from the ickiness of your fellow citizen either, at least not as far as The Rant is concerned.

Here's another principle to consider: The Politically Correct Censor is still a censor, no matter how worthy her ostensible cause. Beware liberal reasoning that the ends justify the means; take caution when someone who claims enlightenment wants to shield you from another's scabrous notions. Personally, I'd rather confront—directly—the inanity, brutality and hypocrisy that fills people's minds. I'd rather expose their religious prejudices, anti-intellectualism, bitterness—whatever it is—than suffer the effect when those views are pushed underground. I don't like what you're saying, but I defend your right to say it.

Moreover, when it comes to those unpretty thoughts or words, shouldn't we distinguish them from actions? An offensive joke about race is still a string of words, isn't it?—nothing more—just as a cartoon showing a bomb in Mohammed's turban is a drawing. The joke is not an act of discrimination and the cartoon is not an act of persecution. Let's not demean affronts in the physical world by confusing them with their scant depictions.

It's not often I venture onto this fancy philosophical ground (though I think it's solid). But really, what kind of newspaper editor wouldn't defend free speech, except perhaps one who works for the Central Committee?

Trouble was this past fall that my pristine ideal ran headlong into real people's feelings. Racial tension lingers in Charlottesville and The Rant made that patently clear. Much yelling ensued.

Now, why do people yell? Because they're in pain. For some, the black canoe joke was like a poke in the eye.

"I don't open my C-VILLE to see that kind of thing in there," one p.o.-ed reader told me.

I did not tell her that she opens this or any paper at her own peril. I don't think she was in the mood to assess the consequences of living with a free press.

But I got her message. And where I wanted to dedicate precious work hours to discussing stories about green builders that pollute or the region's 25 percent poverty rate, I was drawn back to the lingering effects of a pretty stupid restaurant joke.

So, in the couple of weeks that followed, I did what I hadn't before. I held rants. Cut them right out. They weren't libelous or overly long; they were just more variations on the same attention-getting remark. Suddenly my proud free speech avenue had become a litter-strewn alley. The scenery was starting to bother me.

That's what I did for a few weeks; that's why I did it. This is what I learned: Safeguarding free speech is not for the meek. I also learned a lesson about labeling. So check out The Rant [in C-Ville Weekly] and note: The views expressed there are not the views of C-VILLE, its management or its advertisers. They're yours. Read, and rant, at your own risk." (Cathy Harding, C-Ville Weekly, January 1, 2008)