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Alaska

Well, doggone it, the shee-it has finally hit the fan. Little Miss Trustworthy, AKA The Spitfire from Seward’s Folly, is now the subject of a report by an Alaska legislative panel regarding the dismissal of Public Safety Commissioner Walter Monegan. Monegan told the panel that he was fired because he refused to dismiss Palin’s ex-brother-in-law, state trooper Mike Wooten, after undue pressure from Mr. Sarah Palin and Palin’s staff.

This news hit the wires last night around 8pm Eastern time and has the potential to be a real gamechanger in the final days before Americans cast their ballots for President of the United States. The bipartisan panel (10 Republicans, 4 Democrats) stated in no uncertain terms that Palin abused her power as governor in the Monegan situation. She was found to be in violation of a state ethics law against officials using a public office for personal gain.

Let me state for the record that the dismissal of Monegan was not the problem; it was that Palin violated a statute of the Alaska Executive Branch Ethics Act by having her husband become a veritable attack dog using her office and her advisors in trying to have Wooten fired. Monegan reported that he was contacted 36 times in this regard over a period of 19 months.

Dear Readers, I thought I was pretty much done with the Palinisms and was ready to move on with my life, but this news just - shall we say - tickled my fancy to the extent that I had to weigh in on it. I mean, here’s the GOP’s VP Candidate telling crowds that Obama is consorting with terrorists and inferring that he is unpatriotic and un-American. And meanwhile she’s got a scandal brewing that sets all that trumped-up malarkey to shame for good and all. You betcha!

Now on the subject of McPain; who among us didn’t wince during last week’s debate as he doddered around the perimeter of the stage like a - forgive me - crazy old man? I mean do you seriously want this guy to be in charge? This guy hired for the most difficult job in the world? And, ouch, what was that weird moment where he lashed out at Tom Brokaw in that snide way he has, “Not you, Tom.”

McShame and his aide-de-camp La Barracuda have knowingly fanned the fires of racism, hate, and violence with their negative campaigning and attack ads. Rather than campaign on the issues - which they can’t do - they sling the mud over and over again and imply that Obama is both a Washington insider elite Harvard type argula-eater and also an outsider, as un-American as it is possible to be. Plus his skin is black. Oh the horror!

At a rally last night, McCain actually was forced in the position of having to defend Obama as someone Americans do not need to be frightened of when a man stood up and said he was afraid for the life of his unborn child if the Illinois Democrat became President. At the same rally, a woman in the audience told him that Obama was an Arab, and McCain actually took the mike away from her and said this was not true, that Senator Obama is a decent, family man with whom he disagrees on many fundamental issues.

This is rich! McFeign and Que Sera, Sarah created this atmosphere and now McCain, at least, is backing off because he suddenly seems to realize that it’s about to blow up in his face. Rile up unhappy broke people at your peril, sir. They’re looking for anyone to blame. And they’ve been shouting heinous epithets like ‘Kill him!’ and ‘He’s a terrorist!‘ at rallies this entire week. Thanks to you and your nefarious McCampaign.

Yes, Senator John Sidney McCain III, we do need a steady hand at the tiller. But yours is most definitely not steady. And Palin’s hand should be nowhere near the tiller. God only knows in which direction she would steer the boat.

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More Palinizations from Snoop* Du Jour:

Post-Debate Palintological Observations (10.6.08)

In Hartford, Hereford, and Hampshire, Hurricanes Hardly Happen (10.1.08)

There’s No Place Like Nome…There’s No Place Like Nome (9.28.08)

Welcome to the Palindrome (9.24.08)

Que Sera, Sarah? (9.19.08)

Baked Alaska (Ruminations on McPalin) (9.15.08)

Sarah Palin and Joe Biden VP Debate

The VP Debate is over ~ the bells have chimed. And Lady Miss Sarah may now be possibly reprising the famous Ascot scene in My Fair Lady, after Eliza has been made over into an acceptably trained high society babe and allowed to mingle with the privileged class. Am I the only one who pictures Palin stamping a red high heel and yelling at her maverick principal, “Come on, McCain, move yer bloomin’ arse!”

Ah yes, the debate. Talk about must-see TV. Yes, she was bubbly, charming, engaging. She was the girl next door, she was the mom you sit next to at the hockey game, the mom who became the mayor, then the governor. Yet still just folks. Don’t forget, she and Todd have been in the middle class of America all of their lives – they know what it’s like to not have health insurance and also what it’s like to sit around a kitchen table.

The debate opened with both vice presidential candidates coming out of the wings and shaking hands, during which Palin revealed a frisson of nervousness while greeting Joe Biden amicably, “Nice to meet you. Hey, can I call you Joe?” - simultaneously melting Republican hearts while attempting to dismiss and demean him. Totally scripted I’m sure, and completely brilliant. Let’s face it – they’re not exactly on a level playing field.

Was she cute? Yes. Was she funny? Yes. Was she perky? Yes. Was she friendly? Yes. Was she the person you want anywhere near the Nuclear Football? Gosh darn it – NO. Such is the stuff of nightmares.

Palin was a-bursting with platitudes and grand oversimplifications. If a question didn’t tickle her fancy, well, doggone it, she was just going to gloss right over it and go right back to the topic of energy. Because her state, Alaska, is an energy-producing state that snarky East Coast politicians want to legislate those silly regulations all over in order to preserve the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. Don’t forget, Joe Biden, the chant is “drill, baby, drill.”

I was profoundly depressed at first by the debate. I thought she did very well and she spoke in the obtuse and simplistic terms that (forgive me) Joe Six-Pack understands. But she had no substance, skirted hard questions, and blatantly refused to answer questions about things she knew nothing about, instead stubbornly sticking with her talking points and dissing Gwen Ifill. Sure, she gets an A for effort. For someone who went from a veritable cameo on Northern Exposure to a Vice Presidential debate in front of roughly 70 million people, she was phenomenal.

But you know what? I believe Mr. Six-Pack is a lot smarter and well informed than he was four years ago. Even though he may be a registered Republican, his son or daughter might be serving in Iraq and he has no idea when – or if – they will return home. He might now have had his job downsized and/or disappeared, had his pension cut drastically, or lost his home – or all of the above. He might have been bankrupted by health care costs that weren’t covered by his insurance.

The world is simply not the same as it was the last time delusional thinking folks like Mr. Six-Pack elected George Bush to a second term. People are smarter now and they have seen the little man with the Texas accent behind the curtain. And they’re sick and tired of living this way. They need change, real change – not the empty promises and banal clichés of these two so-called mavericks. Maverick my white ass ~

By the way, I’d like to tell you what the official definition of the word maverick actually is, according to the dictionary:

  1. An unbranded range animal, especially a calf that has become separated from its mother, traditionally considered the property of the first person who brands it. [Possibly after Samuel Augustus Maverick (1803-1870), an American cattleman who left the calves in his herd unbranded.]
  2. One that refuses to abide by the dictates of or resists adherence to a group; a dissenter.

I would like to plead the Fifth Amendment on the grounds that the first definition of maverick might tend to incriminate me with hysterical laughter. Um, perhaps not the best choice of words after all?

As for McCain, he both looks and acts like a character in Grumpy Old Men, sans the irascible lovableness of Walter Matthau. You can practically smell his panic as he realizes the presidency is falling from his grip. During interviews and speeches it is obvious he has to remember to smile while delivering his message. He doesn’t want to – but knows he has to. Totally creepy. Palin is his savior, his angel, his rescuer. He probably has a shrine to her in one (or all) of his eight houses.

Let’s hope that McMaverick has the guts to look at Obama at the next Presidential debate. It would seem to me that a man who lived in the Hanoi Hilton for five and a half years and was subjected to unimaginable torture by his captors, a man who is the descendent of a father and grandfather who were both admirals and in the top echelon of the military, a man who is a decorated war hero, would have the courage to greet his opponent like a man and look him in the eye.

Maybe Palin should debate Obama tomorrow night instead of McBlame. She’s Miss Congeniality, Miss Personality, and she knows how to work the camera in a way that McSame does not – and, let’s face it, probably never will at his age. She couldn’t be more dissimilar from the unfriendly cold stiffness of McCain, who’s body language at the First Presidential Debate was similar to that of a spoiled child not getting his way.

Charles Dickens has the final word on the state of the election, the state of the country, and the state of the world: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness; it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity; it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness; it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair; we had everything before us, we had nothing before us; we were all going directly to Heaven, we were all going the other way.”

O Best Beloved, I am too jammed right now with work to write the horoscoop* for this weekend; but rest assured I have plenty to share with you and next weekend’s column will be magnificent. that, my friends, is a promise!

in the meantime, may i refer you to:
http://www.ifsarahcanbevp.com/

this site was made by some folks i know to channel their energy about the upcoming election.
if you like it, please spread the word!
do it for the polar bears!

ifsarahcanbevp.com

à bientôt!

Leave us picture an Alaskan Eliza Doolittle – dead moose on her back, shotgun in one hand, hockey stick in the other - instead of a Cockney flower girl with a dirty smudged face. She is sequestered in Arizona at the McCain McCompound. For several days, she has endured being poked and prodded and grilled and filleted by the Republican Elite Guard for tomorrow night’s big Date with Destiny.

“All right Sarah! Say it again!” Henry Higgins (played possibly by Karl Rove) urges. (Meanwhile, he’s thinking – why can’t a woman be more like a man? – as HH famously did in My Fair Lady)

The rain in Spain falls mainly on McCain,” gamely responds Miss Thing.

“No!! That’s not the line! It’s ‘the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.’ Try it again!”

Deep into the night they go, as sunset falls on the painted desert and the clock strikes ten, then eleven, then midnight. And Thursday October 2 eventually dawns ~ the lines are drawn in the sand ~ and billions of eyes tune in to their television sets at 9 p.m.

Ding dong! The bells are gonna chime.

i’m not the first to point out some Ozzities in the Sarah Palin mythos; she’s very much a Dorothy-like character. she’s a cheerful, bright-eyed brunette skipping along with her posse, believing as hard as she can that she will make it to the Emerald City and meet the Wizard and eventually make it back home to her beloved Auntie Em in Kansas. she even has the ruby red slippers.

and now that the Alaskan Empress has truly been revealed as having no clothes (read: interviewed on CBS by Katie Couric), the Republican flying monkeys are starting to surround her, their eyes glittering, chomping their sharp teeth. any second now the Wicked Witch of the West will try to drop a house on her, or perhaps a multi-roomed mansion with a view of Russia from the front steps.

Holy Glinda Good Witch of the North, when they don’t even allow the Vice Presidential Candidate to provide post-debate spin on Fox, not to mention other broadcast outlets, there’s obviously a serious problem. they can’t reign her in fast enough.

when a figure like Kathleen Parker of the National Review can hope out loud and in print that Palin will step down for the good of the party, not to mention George Will in the Washington Post stating loud & clear that John McCain is not a fit presidential candidate, well, honey, it’s on.

somewhere, in a place very close to here, the rightest of the right wing are pacing the floor trying to figure out how to combat the force of nature that Obama seems to be. and their hearts (if they have hearts) are sinking when they really contemplate McCain / Palin as a viable alternative.

like many, i am starting to almost feel sorry for Palin because she is so clearly a deer in the headlights and she’s about to be shredded in front of billions of people by Joe Biden. i can picture her calling in sick on Thursday. she is so clearly out of her depth.

it’s kind of like Kenley on Project Runway last Wednesday when she, of all the designers, got the hip-hop design challenge. and then LL Cool J turns up as the Guest Judge. and she messed it up so badly because she doesn’t have the slightest idea what hip-hop fashion is, nor does she care. i mean, that outfit was a joke (but Leeanne really looked like a different person).

i can envision Palin in her ruby red slippers standing there with Toto in her arms, repeating over and over again There’s no place like Nome…There’s no place like Nome…There’s no place like Nome until eventually she’s back in the flying house and then wakes up in her own room, surrounded by her peeps.

yes, she’ll be back home safe in Kansas, never realizing until now that Barack Obama’s grandparents are her next door neighbors.

There's No Place Like Nome...

Picture this: A young, comely U.S. Vice Presidential candidate with no foreign policy experience who was virtually unknown outside of her home state a few weeks ago meets with a number of world leaders in the city which is the news and information capital of the entire globe, that would be New York City.

In a move so dastardly even the Fox Network was kneecapped, the McComplain Campaign restricted press access to these meetings except for what are whimsically known as “photo ops.” The brilliant Maureen Dowd described it best in today’s New York Times: Sarah speed-dated diplomacy. Girlfriend is on fire with her newest column Park Avenue Diplomacy.

After SP completed her cotillion with the Big Boys, Dowd writes that she met with Henry Kissinger: How the mighty 85-year-old Henry the K has fallen from his days chasing Jill St. John and running the world to his hour briefing of a 44-year-old Wasilla hockey mom who may end up running the world . . . The two made an odd couple: the last impure Rockefeller Republican and the first pure Rovian Republican, grown totally in the petri dish of cultural crusaderism.

By the by, the word palindrome means a word or phrase which reads the same in both directions. For instance; rats live on no evil star. Or Dogma: I am God. Since the so-called Straight Talk Express seems to have seriously derailed, the second one sounds about right, n’est-ce pas?

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More posts on Sarah Palin:

Baked Alaska (Ruminations on McPalin)

Que Sera, Sarah?

I know I said was showing a dangerous tendency towards palinization (a word that I’ve invented to mean a horrific obsession with Sarah Palin) and it’s true. I admit it. It’s kind of like rubbernecking on a highway when you see a car accident.

The good news is, I spent last weekend in South Florida visiting mi madre for her birthday. I saw two – count them, two – Obama bumper stickers on cars. One of those cars I actually saw on the road being driven by what looked to be an elderly Jewish man.

Even better than that; I attended a luncheon with ten retired Jewish ladies in their 70’s and 80’s. I promised my mom that I would not get all political on them and stayed quiet on anything topical, didn’t wear my Obama button in plain sight, nothing. Next thing I know, one of them brought up the 20/20 Interview that had been broadcast the night before.

All hell broke loose and the general consensus was that we can’t let McPalin anywhere near Washington, D.C. Yes, they were all registered. Yes, they were all voting. For Obama. Praise the Lord!

This has been a fascinating week, O Best Beloved. The stories come fast and furious. Maureen Dowd’s Op-Ed piece Barbies for War! was genius. Dowd took herself to “Sarahville” and reported back that it’s pretty much what one would expect; a massive Wal-Mart, Obama supporters being called Communists by passing motorists, frightening tracts at the Wasilla Assembly of God church (e.g. The Bait of Satan), Sarah’s former high school principal calling her ‘inexperienced’ and ‘simplistic.’ It is to laugh!

Dowd also spent some time at the Mocha Moose, where Palin apparently fuels up every morning with her favorite drink – a skinny white mocha – now called the Sarah. The Mocha Moose features a 24 hour drive through, 365 days a year. Their website is chock full (o nuts) (couldn’t resist) of bad web design and typos. (This is were we roast are beans daily and offer a home sweet home feeling when you’re drinking your coffee) [sic]

There’s also a section on the Mocha Moose site for Palin Wear – 3 different types of t-shirts (the site claims they are ‘selling like crazy’), bumper stickers (reading Palin Fever) and buttons (Palin Fever – VP 2008 with a red stiletto high heel and Get Moosified – Palin did are my favorites).

The upshot of it all is that Madame Governor has shown herself to be more of a cartoon rather than a real person. Patricia J. Williams in The Nation says it well: Andy Warhol would have loved Sarah Palin. She really is the ultimate soup can . . . What Warhol did with Mao Zedong and Marilyn Monroe is precisely what the Republican Party has done with Sarah Palin.

To paraphrase Doris Day:

Que Sera, Sarah,
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
You scare the bejesus out of me.
Que Sera, Sarah,
What will be, will be.
The White House you won’t see.

At least not if it’s up to me.

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More posts on Sarah Palin:

Baked Alaska (Ruminations on McPalin)

Welcome to the Palindrome

I watched the Palinizer on 20/20 last Friday night gettin’ all cozy with Charles Gibson in her lovely Alaskan home, and it’s my feeling that if this woman gets anywhere near the White House, our goose is cooked ~ our moose is dressed ~ or whatever dead animal metaphor you find to hand. Our country will take a turn to the right so sharply it will feel like we are on a NASCAR track hurtling into hell at 185 miles an hour.

In case you hadn’t noticed, things suck pretty bad right now. But imagine, if you will, how bad it could get: no more polar bears (they’re not endangered, right? who’s going to miss them?) – banned books in our public libraries – an end to safe and legal abortions, more abstinence - obviously a screaming success in Alaska (a million Bristol Palins bringing into this world a million new babies they don’t know the first thing about taking care of) – and, of course, tanning beds all around. And I hesitate even to formulate the image of SP’s finger on the nuclear trigger.

And may I add that I am amused and horrified that the Palinator is said to be a super-mom of some sort. What kind of super-mom drags her four-month-old infant to a 22,000-seat sports arena with bright lights, loud noises, and billions of germs in the air? Methinks that if that child had not been a special needs baby, he would have stayed in a nice clean quiet cradle where he belonged that night instead of being passed around for the cameras like a tiny political football.

It’s oh-so-obvious, folks! McCain has never been his party’s choice. They don’t like him, they don’t trust him. Especially since his best friend is Joe Lieberman, who is universally despised by all parties (Republican, Democrat, and the one happening on the 17th floor of my apartment building tonight at 9pm). For God’s sake, McSame almost defected the Republican Party to join Kerry’s presidential ticket in 2004!

I know I don’t need to point out that since Palin was anointed as McPain’s Veep Choice, the GOP has received a much-needed injection of fresh neo-con blood (kind of like Lestat feeding on a sweet young hot evangelical Christian babe). Hence, McBore, who was heretofore not winning any Republican popularity contests, has now become the Groovemeister and drawing Obama-sized crowds. I think I just threw up in my mouth.

Prior to Palin, JM was almost like a kindly old great-uncle who sometimes messed up his facts and figures. With SP now providing the assist to his blurred and feeble vision, it’s become a scenario straight from the scariest of Stephen King novels.

But I digress… my point is, a McPalin White House will turn the world upside down. Talk about Baked Alaska. Those of us who don’t own seven homes will have a difficult time even owning one in the Brave New World of the Palindrome. She out-mccains McCain; she out-Bushes Bush. She’s Tonya Harding and America is Nancy Kerrigan.

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a few days after I wrote this post, Sarah Palin’s God divinely inspired me to tackle this subject again with a post entitled Que Sera, Sarah? ~ i invite you to read the result here. - HCP 9/23/08

more speaking in tongues this morning, kids: Welcome to the Palindrome - reflecting on Ms. Palin’s visit to New York City to meet world leaders on Tuesday, September 23rd. - HCP 9/24/08