Friend or foe, fan or basher, you all know me well enough to know that my column in the Oct. 19 edition was not written in my own “voice” until the final few graphs. However, I made a major gaffe. We live in the Internet age and one Google hit from a research assistant for a self-important member of the national media could create a wrong impression.

I had a line in the column referring to the vision I pretended to have for a Barack Obama presidency being as frightening as seeing some of the female talking heads that have dominated our television screens since the Iowa caucuses competing in a bikini contest.

I had already mentioned some of their male counterparts, so I thought I’d keep it fair. A female editor, one with an actual sense of humor who also knew I was coming from a totally satirical standpoint, helped me shape the list.

The last name added, begrudgingly, was that of Greta Van Susteren. Little did I know that Greta – or someone from Greta’s staff – would pounce of my fumble and run with it.

Not one the generally positive responses I’ve received on the column from within the readership even mentioned the ill-fated paragraph, but Greta and the flock of fans that read her blog took that one sentence out of context and drew the brilliant conclusion that I was a “sexist pig.”

If that is true, have pity on the rest of the county. I am a lot of things, maybe even a pig when it comes to chow time, but sexist is not among them.

All that any of them had to do was search our online archives and learn that I spent the first three to four months of this year as an ardent supporter of Hillary Clinton and her bid to become the first female president of the United States.

And I wasn’t doing it to ingratiate myself with women – as some secret “sexist pigs” in my profession do – as I rarely, if ever, mentioned her gender.

As with Obama’s skin pigmentation or John McCain’s age, at least until he picked an unqualified running mate (gender notwithstanding) to be waiting in the wings should his health fail, it was a non-issue.

Regular readers have also probably grown weary of my constant in-print gushing over my daughter, Sofia. If I prayed, I would pray for a day when I could tell her that she could be anything she wants to be one day – even president.

The only thing she can’t do is date until she is 30. That’s because I know how many real sexist pigs are out there.

I do want to apologize to those in the Greta Nation, but not for the sentence in question. That was a mistake because it wasn’t necessary in the overall scheme and theme of the column and it apparently took out-of-town readers’ eyes off the ball.

Instead, I want to apologize for the way Greta – as a way to “have some fun on a Sunday morning” – sunk to my level and asked her followers to picture me in a Speedo.

That wasn’t a nice thing to do, Greta. What a horrible picture. I would never inflict such a horrid sight on anyone – even people who think Obama is terrorist spy and/or the anti-Christ.

What I find interesting, however, is that Greta didn’t find me so homely back in late December of 2006 and January of 2007.

That’s when she had me on as a guest multiple times – and I shunned several of her competitors to do so – to feed the passing morbid curiosity of her viewers following the death of Ellen Robb at the hands of her Penn professor husband, Rafael.

I wasn’t quite sure what made this a national story at the time, as it was clear Robb was stone-cold guilty.

It was all about ratings, and Greta – great journalist that she is – needed hers.

And I helped.

A local competitor with a lot less knowledge of the case than I had, made a fool of himself on the “Nancy Grace Show” after I told them I was sticking with Greta when they came calling.

The last time I taped a segment for Greta, I stood out in the bitter cold in front of Montgomery County prison after Robb was thrown in the slammer. I listened in my headphones as she interviewed Donald Trump about the hard-hitting story of a dethroned beauty pageant contestant.

Her other “hot story” at the time was about rival cheerleader moms in Texas. Wow!

After that night, I never heard from heard from Greta’s producers again. The story was old news.

The producer promised to get me a disc of the final segment to save for my showing my daughter one day (Note: I was volunteering my time while my wife was pregnant) and to have a few laughs at my own expense once the cameras focused on other tragedies of white women.

I can be self-effacing. Greta, although she tried to act like she didn’t care about my “bikini contest” sentence but that she felt for “friend” Candy Crowley, clearly felt dissed and lashed out.

And she’s right about Crowley of CNN. She is a quality journalist. Perhaps she could even give Greta some interviewing tips because that one-on-one with Todd Palin a few weeks back was an embarrassment to the profession.

But we have to consider the source.

Greta and her great staff never followed up on the Robb case. If they did, they would know that he could literally get a way with murder -- as a potentially ultra-light sentence awaits.

During the World Series rain delay Monday, we had “On The Record” on the newsroom and Greta’s exchange with Rush Limbaugh – you know, the pill addict no one would want to see in a Speedo who once delivered to Donovan McNabb a sickening cheap shot – equated to borderline phone sex.

Wait, I take that back. That was mean. It wasn’t “fair and balanced.”

Let’s stick to the facts.

Greta, you have a short memory. You have now given me two-thirds of my allotment of 15 minutes of fame.

Something tells me our paths will cross again. Maybe the third time -- those last five minutes -- will be the charm.

Until then, don’t go hosting a show on the most biased news network on the dial and think you can tell anyone how to be a journalist.

Still, you have taught me a valuable lesson. A writer can’t bank on past history with any reader in the year 2008.

Therefore, let’s lay the proverbial cards on the table and be done with it.

Once I pick a side, I stay with it. That’s why, for example, I stayed with Greta during the Robb-fest

I was behind John Edwards at the outset of the race for the White House, but he jumped ship pretty fast. All for the best, given his dirty little secret.

I then weighed the field and jumped on Hillary Clinton’s train and was one of the strongest media supporters she had in this part of Pennsylvania (see “A Woman’s Got The Power” on this blog for background reading, all you self-loathing members of Greta Nation who think you know me so well from one line from one column).

I wrote a lot of negative words about Obama and found myself with a tough choice once it came down to him and McCain, whom I used to respect more than any Republican out there.

After a long night -- and really for the basic reason that more than eight years of a president from either party being in the big chair isn’t healthy for the country -- I tentatively went with Obama.

Since then, my faith in him has grown as much as it has diminished for McCain.

But I don’t see Obama as the ideal candidate. There are holes in his game – albeit holes that can be filled if surrounded with the right Cabinet and advisers, which he is intelligent and secure enough in himself to procure.

What I won’t stand for – if I can help it – is him being Swift-Boated out of this election with the multiple silly scenarios I lumped together in the column that caught the eye of ... someone in Greta’s camp who passed it along to her for blog fodder.

I know this doesn’t settle it, and I doubt Greta will have the fairness to pick up this response and run it whole on her site/blog, but at least I can go to bed tonight thinking I’ve gotten in the last word.