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Monday, November 22, 2010

That Hurts Like Crap

I am positive that is what Sarah Palin yelped when a pretty, large halibut bitch-slapped her as it flopped around the deck of the boat from which she was fishing. She uttered that mild expletive just before whacking the creature all about its head and shoulders with what appeared to be either a billy club or a stubby plank from her political platform. I do not watch the Palins’ reality show for lots of reasons. I guess because she is sort of a presidential candidate, news-shows usually carry clips of her and her family slip-sliding through normal Alaskan life. This clip of the halibut-hunt was followed by another of her shooting at and instructing Bristol how to shoot at clay pigeons. Damn nice shotgun, too, which Bristol took to much like how she has taken to Dancing with the Stars. That’s another reality show I would not view, even if I had cable to view it on. When it comes to the Palins and reality shows, I feel much like the guy who blasted his TV with a shotgun when Bristol won the last round of Dancing with the Stars. The dude would have been better off, though, if he had had Bristol fire the gun; from what I saw of The Palins Do Alaska, Bristol may well know how to tango, but she could not hit a cow in the ass with a Cadillac. I’ve thought the idea of blasting away at a TV is uber-cool since, way back in 1971, when John Prine in “Spanish Pipe Dream,” has a topless singer advising the narrator to “blow up his TV,” among other actions, in order to get away from the nuttiness of the world.

For sure the world may be nuttier now than it was back in 1971, or at least, we have more channels on the TV and more direct streams on the internet to show us how really insane stuff is. Take the Palins, take her drooling, admiring base, take a slide rule and a gross of yellow legal-pads, and go figure up a logical, answer for why, she has followers, any followers. Is she a political savant with an instinct for what is really wrong with America, or is she a bee-hived, prom queen simply living the American dream of stupefying enough people to make a boat-load of money? I get why old-crap-in-your-Depends-republicans like Pat Buchannan like her; they like anything in a skirt that is young, breasted, butted. And Pat’s simply pursuing his happiness. But is having a nice butt really a solid credential for public office? Of course, the gun crowd loves her, and she makes sure, on her reality show, that she shoots every weapon available to the general citizen, then some. I did like the clip of her shooting a full magazine out of an AK-47, Uzi, or Kalashnikov or whatever; she was hotter than an habanero, all leathered up, squeezing off rounds. Damn good Constitutional stuff. So, you got the arms folks and the cattle-hide folks all in line to attend one of her 100 K lectures on what’s wrong with Merica. And there’s a bunch who likes her logic, her savvy, her semantics, and her plan for our nation. When asked what steps republicans should take to get the country right again, she responded with rhetorical skill, “I think, kind of tougher to put our arms around, but allowing America's spirit to rise again by not being afraid to kind of go back to some of our roots as a God fearing nation where we're not afraid to say especially in times of potential trouble in the future here, where we're not afraid to say, you know, we don't have all the answers as fallible men and women so it would be wise of us to start seeking some divine intervention again in this country, so that we can be safe and secure and prosperous again. To have people involved in government who aren't afraid to go that route, not so afraid of the political correctness that you know – they have to be afraid of what the media said about them if they were to proclaim their alliance to our creator.´ In this little snippet of directional wisdom, she not only reaches out to fundamentalists who all know god has nothing to do with atheistic democrats but also spins a shout out to those, like Glenn Beck, who are always mumbling about the Founders and our roots and all. Oh, yeah, on her way to the podium, she wished Ronald Reagan a happy birthday, and you know to whom that appeals, for Reagan is the Wizard of Wonderful; just ask any republican.

When it comes to Palin, I confess to having more than a tad of jealously. After all, why her and not me? How in the world of scrambled-eggs-politics did John McCain call her to national prominence? I sure hope ol’ John s getting some residuals from her for perpetrating one of the biggest scams in American history; Plain does not pale in comparison to Madoff or any other bunko artist who has bilked the public. Really, she has got to be wetting her skin-tight undies every time she cashes one of those 100 K checks; she’s got to be thrilled and I would be too. Big money for dumbness, a reality show for not being able to recall what she reads on a daily basis (or for revealing that she does not read), a political career for quitting in the middle of a contract with Alaskans then touting the rehashed version of the republican’s Contract with America, a booked, solid speaking-schedule with people yelling, frothing, fainting, crying for a litany of you-betchas and refudiates. I am in the grasp of hazle-eyed-envy, jealous because I can easily be as dumb as Palin; I just need the chance. I can do stupid. The way I got it figured, in this country, it is easier to be stupid as a politician to get rich than it is to be smart as a teacher to make a living.

Oh well, I ought to just give up on the idea of rich and famous via stupidity; I probably couldn’t be consistently dumb enough. Yes, there is a lot of pressure playing dumb all the time; I would screw it up somehow like revealing that I know Ronald Reagan died years ago and really doesn’t celebrate birthdays anymore.

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