Missouri?

So Eric Cantor is a Virginian. He is one of the Congressional representatives from the Commonwealth. More than that, he represents the city of Richmond itself (well, part of it, anyway). As a result of this, I usually cut him a little more slack than I do most politicians. And his party certainly needs rebuilt, and it seems to me that the GOP could do a lot worse as far as young leadership goes. I definitely approve of this new “listening tour” he’s been going around on, though I don’t approve of some of the folks he’s bringing along.
Rush Limbaugh does NOT approve of this listening tour. He came on the radio and said that the GOP doesn’t need a listening tour, it needs a teaching tour. This is, of course, because the American people don’t actually know what’s good for them; they need Rush to tell them what to think.
That’s fine. I expect no better from Rush, and a week without him saying something stupid is like a week without a paycheck. What I was not prepared for, though, was that Cantor, upon hearing about Rush’s ludicrous but totally in-character statement, rushed to change his mind and point out that his traveling road show is not, in fact, a listening tour. I am outraged.
Mr. Cantor, you are a Virginian, representing our proud Commonwealth before the nation. Virginians do not take orders from, nor are we cowed by, people from inferior states. The last outsider to successfully knock us down was Ulysses S. Grant, and he had to bring three million friends to back him up. How dare you back down in the face of a fat-assed knuckleheaded blowhard from Missouri? Missouri, of all places! Where are your balls? Stonewall Jackson would have gutted the freak and got the hell on with business. I suggest you take a lesson from him.

Seven words. Seven Stresses. Seven Meanings.

I’ve just been told that there are seven different ways to interpret the sentence “I never said she stole my money,” depending on which of the seven words is stressed. I thought it would make an interesting late-night intellectual exercise:

I never said she stole my money—I never said that, but other folks did, and I’m not saying they’re wrong.

I never said she stole my money—I have not accused her, but I might at any time in the future, depending on how contrite she is and how much I’ve had to drink. However, if she accuses me of not trusting her, I have an out.

I never said she stole my money—I am too much of a gentleman to accuse her of this. I think she did, but I would never say it out loud in the presence of the press (this is off the record, right?).

I never said she stole my money—My money was totally stolen, but that doesn’t mean she stole it. Coulda been that ugly dude and his pet monkey.

I never said she stole my money—She might have been just borrowing it. This is a deeply personal problem within our relationship that we’re gonna have to discuss, preferably in the absence of police.

I never said she stole my money—Maybe she stole some money, but it was somebody else’s.

I never said she stole my money—She stole my heart, my soul, my drugs, and my love of living, but not my money.

Any alternate explanations out there? Let’s hear ‘em!