I have to confess - I plumb forgot about the presidential debate last night. I was reading some Michio Kaku and became so engrossed in hyperspace and metric tensors that all this earthly bullshit just sort of melted away and I put my jammies on and went to bed all blissful and fizzy in the brain. Of course, while I slept the sleep of the contented, the world was digesting what went on between John McCain and Barack Obama at their townhall bullshit fest, moderated by the mumbling Greatest Generalizer Tom Brokaw (it would've been Russert's gig but he couldn't lay off the sausages). The consensus is apparently that neither candidate won but McCain looked old and got bitchy a couple of times while Barack retained his usual air of elegant superiority (or smug aloofness depending on who you ask). I don't know what difference it makes now anyway - Obama is going to win for sure. The McCain camp signaled their resignation to this by having Palin whip out the William Ayers bullshit, a last-ditch attempt at painting Obama as an un-American charlatan with a devious plan to subvert the country from within. It's over.
Nobody really cares about Mummy-Arms and Juggy anymore anyway - it's all about Sarah Palin, the winking Republican wet-dream. Palin has a higher Q rating than either of the presidential candidates and why not? She's spunky and cute and has a nice rack. She's warmer and fuzzier than McCain and not all condescending and elitist and shady like Barack Hussein Obama. She won her debate with Joe Biden, some think, just by having the guts to show up - and what's a more important presidential qualification than intestinal fortitude? That's what you need to stare down that evil bastard Putin when he rears his head - cojones. And lipstick (or just tattoo that shit on if you don't want to bother with pesky cosmetics).
Of course Palin's biggest advantage is her small-town authenticity - she reminded us of this, so very subtly, by watching last night's debate from a tavern. Jill Tall Cool One hangs with the Joe Six Packs in North Carolina. Does anyone really buy this shit? That Sarah Palin is just like us - despite the designer frames and the elaborate coif? I don't know about you, but I've never found myself embroiled in an ethics investigation centered around my attempt to fire a guy who fucked around on my sister. I've yet to shake hands with Hamid Karzai or be chatted up by Asif Ali Zardari the president of Pakistan. Not once in my admittedly humble existence have I stood in front of a church congregation and been chanted over by an African witch-doctor. Nope, sorry - Sarah Palin isn't just like me, and she isn't just like you. She can hoist as many brews at as many watering holes as she likes and she'll still be a hyper-ambitious, vindictive, duplicitous, arrogant intellectual lightweight who bullied and blow-jobbed her way to the top. Fuck - she should have gotten into acting. She would've fit right in.
Oh wait - you need talent. Never mind.
(Thanks Alicia)
