“There she goes again, mentioning us to Matt Lauer!”
Timothy Egan, the Times writer and noted author, wonders what the hell is going on in Alaska, and the resulting blog post is a thing of beauty. Seriously Alaskans: WTF?
Speaking of Alaskans and WTF?, Sarah Palin gave her first press conference today. If you guessed that it was barely longer than a Ramones song, you are correct and deserve some kind of prize. (Truly, Jason Biggs lasted longer with that pie than this woman who wanted to be the vice-president of the United States lasted in front of reporters. It’s insane.)
You can choose from the lovely assortment of paperclips on my desk (there’s a green one, a pink one and a bunch of boring old regular ones) or the Louise Brooks videocassettes I can’t bring myself to throw out despite the fact that Pandora’s Box and Diary of a Lost Girl are now available on DVD. It seems morally wrong to send anything bearing Louise’s image to the landfill, even though I’m relatively certain the tapes and their cases don’t have feelings.
If you want to get all technical, Sarah Palin didn’t really vow to never stop being stupid. But she came pretty close when she lashed out at bloggers in an interview with Fox News’ Greta Van Susteren, calling them “kids in pajamas sitting in the basement of their parents’ homes” — ostensibly because they’ve been critical of her. (FOR BEING AN IDIOT!, I might add.)
I guess she’s forgetting the part where she probably owes her selection as John McCain’s running mate to the efforts of a college student and blogger named Adam Brickley. As Jane Mayer wrote last month in The New Yorker:
In February, 2007, Adam Brickley gave himself a mission: he began searching for a running mate for McCain who could halt the momentum of the Democrats. Brickley, a self-described “obsessive” political junkie who recently graduated from the University of Colorado at Colorado Springs, told me that he began by “randomly searching Wikipedia and election sites for Republican women.” Though he generally opposes affirmative action, gender drove his choice. “People were talking about Hillary at the time,” he recalled. Brickley said that he “puzzled over every Republican female politician I knew.” Senator Kay Bailey Hutchison, of Texas, “waffled on social issues”; Senator Olympia Snowe, of Maine, was too moderate. He was running out of options, he recalled, when he said to himself, “What about that lady who just got elected in Alaska?” Online research revealed that she had a strong grassroots following; as Brickley put it, “I hate to use the words ‘cult of personality,’ but she reminded me of Obama.”
Brickley registered a Web site — palinforvp.blogspot.com which began getting attention in the conservative blogosphere. In the month before Palin was picked by McCain, Brickley said, his Web site was receiving about three thousand hits a day. Support for Palin had spread from one right-of-center Internet site to the next. First, the popular conservative blogger InstaPundit mentioned Brickley’s campaign. Then a site called the American Scene said that Palin was “very appealing”; another, Stop the A.C.L.U., described her as “a great choice.” The traditional conservative media soon got in on the act: The American Spectator embraced Palin, and Rush Limbaugh, the radio host, praised her as “a babe.”
Palin’s rise from obscurity, her $150,000 wardrobe, her trip to Saturday Night Live, can all be traced back to a kid blogger. Shouldn’t she be thanking the blogosphere instead of telling it to fuck itself?
And by the way, Sarah, when I write hurtful things about you from my parents’ basement, I’m usually dressed in waders, the better to navigate the flood of bullshit that’s unleashed every time you talk to the press.
But most importantly, John McCain is not in the White House. And Sarah Palin is back in Alaska, where she can only harm 683,478 people instead of 305,603,000. Ah, Alaska. As its ever-chipper governor might say, in between “you betchas” and winks, Alaska’s reward is in heaven.
Alas, Mink Stole was not a volunteer at my polling place.*
Four years ago, when I voted in my first presidential election, the line outside my polling place — a small, shabby church with a kitchen whose ancient refrigerator was covered with alphabet magnets and children’s fingerpaintings — was long and grim. And that was at six in the morning, when the polls first opened.
Everywhere I looked there were tense, glum men in business attire, yawning and impatiently checking their watches and cell phones. It was cold and dark outside, and every now and then the wind would pick up and sting my face. The wait ended up being a little more than 90 minutes long, and by the time I stepped into the church my hair was tangled and my fingertips were numb. As it turned out, the day didn’t get any better from there.
Mid-morning yesterday I went back to the same polling place, thinking of the bleary-eyed zombies who’d surrounded me in 2004, when my candidate lost. Again the line was very long, but the volunteers were better organized this time and everything moved faster. It was nice outside, warm and breezy, and the leaves rustling overhead seemed more colorful than I remember anything looking the day George W. Bush was re-elected. The atmosphere was oddly idyllic.
Robert Draper’s much-buzzed-about New York Times Magazine article about the chaos behind the scenes at the McCain campaign went live on the Times website this afternoon, my fellow prisoners, and it’s a doozy. Not as explosive as some might have hoped, but still an interesting read. It’s nine pages long, so here’s the abridged version for those of you with compromised attention spans:
This summer, Steve Schmidt, the large, bald man billed as the campaign’s chief strategist, was all, “Aaarrrghhh, we’re losing!” Not in those words, exactly — I’m taking some creative license here — but you get the point. So he got together with his fellow strategists and strategized, as strategists are wont to do. Let’s listen in:
If you fuck with the miniskirt, you fuck with Debbie Harry. If you fuck with Debbie Harry, you fuck with the gays. You do not want to fuck with the gays.
James Nsaba Buturo, the Ugandan Minister of Ethics and Integrity who last month railed against the evils of the miniskirt, told reporters at a Saturday press conference that homosexuality is an “attempt to end civilization.”
Buturo, who is under the mistaken impression that gay people can’t reproduce, said: “Who is going to occupy Uganda 20 years from now if we all become homosexuals?” If I could take a crack at this, I’m pretty sure the answer is — wait for it — homosexuals. Am I right? Do I get a cookie? But Buturo should worry not; the gays are still too busy signing up everyone who wanders into West Hollywood to take a stab at Uganda anytime soon.
Someone finally gets it…
Campbell Brown, the CNN host who destroyed McCain spokesman Tucker Bounds on live TV not too long ago, explains to the New York Timeshow the media lost its way:
“As journalists, and certainly for me over the last few years, we’ve gotten overly obsessed with parity, especially when we’re covering politics. We kept making sure each candidate got equal time — to the point that it got ridiculous in a way.
“So when you have Candidate A saying the sky is blue, and Candidate B saying it’s a cloudy day, I look outside and I see, well, it’s a cloudy day. I should be able to tell my viewers, ‘Candidate A is wrong, Candidate B is right.’ And not have to say, ‘Well, you decide.’ Then it would be like I’m an idiot. And I’d be treating the audience like idiots.”
She’s absolutely right, though I’d change “Then it would be like I’m an idiot” to “That would make me an idiot.” There’s no ‘like’ about it. And I can already hear the Fox News faithful, who won’t settle for anything less than being treated like total idiots, taking umbrage at her analysis and shaking their tiny fists and screaming: It’s not your job to tell us about the sky! You’re not a meteorologist!
Also at the Times:
For all the starburst magic she worked on Rich “Never Going to Live This Down” Lowry, Sarah Palin failed to sexually arouse Gail Collins and Bob Herbert, whose post-debate columns were appropriately somber.
Collins concludes:
This entire election season has been a long-running saga about the rise of women in American politics. On Thursday, it all went sour. The people boosting Palin’s triumph were not celebrating because she demonstrated that she is qualified to be president if something ever happened to John McCain. They were cheering her success in covering up her lack of knowledge about the things she would have to deal with if she wound up running the country.
Herbert writes:
But after Senator Biden suggested that John McCain’s answer to the nation’s energy problems was to “drill, drill, drill,” Ms. Palin promptly pointed out, as if scoring a point, that “the chant is ‘Drill, baby, drill!'”
How’s that for perspective? The credit markets are frozen. Our top general in Afghanistan is dialing 911. Americans are losing jobs by the scores of thousands. And Sarah Palin is making sure we know that the chant is “drill, baby, drill!” not “drill, drill, drill.”
Bob is forgetting that the “baby” is important. It’s what sends things we’d rather not imagine ricocheting through Rich Lowry’s living room. Speaking of which, if you missed Keith Olbermann naming Rich Lowry the “Worst Person in the World” last night, you can watch the segment online. Lowry’s mention starts around the 90 second mark and it’s an instant classic.
Kristin Davis should join her next time…
Cynthia Nixon kicks ass, but you probably already knew that. Addressing a standing-room only crowd as she campaigned for Barack Obama in South Florida last week, Nixon ripped into Amendment 2, a superfluous anti-gay initiative cynically designed to drive homophobes to the polls on November 4. As she points out, that already worked in 2004:
“In Florida… [Republicans] have tried to do again what they did four years ago: they put anti-gay initiatives on the ballot to bring out the homophobes in droves. What happened four years ago was so horrible. It was such a kick in the stomach. We all felt like we were the scapegoat, like we were the target.”
Nixon went on to say:
“It’s going to be really close in Florida. But my hope is that when Barack Obama wins, we’re going to know that those were LGBT votes. And last time they used us as a wedge, but this time we’re going to be the edge.”
You can read more about Amendment 2 at SayNo2.com.
And finally…
I don’t get all the media interest in a supposed rivalry between CNBC anchors Maria “Money Honey” Bartiromo and Erin “Street Sweetie” Burnett. Maybe it’s that I can’t get past their sexist nicknames, which make them sound like wisecracking Joan Blondell characters trying to claw their way to social respectability in an early ’30s comedy. Maybe it’s that I’m not a sexually frustrated hedge fund manager with X-rated dreams of turning on the TV one day to find them in the heat of an erotically charged catfight over tech stocks.
Whatever the case, I found this Vanity Fair article about the two of them interesting because it mentions that Burnett played college field hockey. Have you ever seen a woman on TV and thought to yourself, She definitely played field hockey? It happens to me only rarely, but Burnett was one I felt very strongly knew her way around a stick. Which is one of the many reasons I cringed (and gagged, and cringed some more) when Hardball host Chris Matthews went all lecherous on her last year. Didn’t he see Red Eye? Didn’t it teach him anything?
Colonel Sanders on the importance of the surge… and honey mustard sauce.
“Oh, yeah. It’s so obvious I’m a Washington outsider complete idiot.” That’s what I got out of last night’s debate, which I had to watch with my thumb on the ‘mute’ button because Sarah Palin’s grating voice and cheerful vacuity were hurting both my ears and my brain. Has a politician ever gone on TV and seemed so happy not to know anything?
There was no escaping her intellectual inferiority last night. I tried to do so by reading her answers (which were technically non-answers) via closed captioning instead of listening to them, but all that did was make my eyes cross. The woman is fundamentally incapable of saying anything that makes sense.
No, they’re not talking about Anderson Cooper — he isn’t a pundit, silly. And the “liberal” rules out FOX’s Shep Smith, which leaves us with the brilliant Rachel Maddow, whose new MSNBC show has garnered impressive ratings for the network since premiering earlier this month. It also has the distinction of being the only show on TV that my teenage sister and middle-aged father watch together, which I think could form the basis of an inspiring ad campaign.
You could start off with a family sitting in awkward silence at the dinner table. When they do speak, their comments are terse and accusatory. The teens are surly, the dad seems exasperated, the mother defeated. But later that night, as Maddow’s show is about to start — she can stand in front of a standard-issue network promo backdrop and smile benevolently with her arms crossed as this happens — the parents put down their copies of Nixonland or What’s the Matter with Kansas? and the teens silence their cell phones and lower their laptop screens for the first time all day.
They watch the show as a family, wearing similar expressions of slack-jawed disbelief as a torrent of clips showing John McCain referring to himself as a maverick plays (or maybe it should be a clip of Sarah Palin talking about Alaska’s participation in the Russian civil war and how they bravely rode into St. Petersburg on dinosaurback to fight on the side of Union because slavery was taking jobs away from Americans — I’m sure CBS has something like that on the cutting room floor).
Then Maddow would offer some kind of wry commentary and the family would relax and find themselves united in laughter. At which point one of those deep-voiced announcers who tries to make everything sound heartwarming would say: “Rachel Maddow, bringing families together in living rooms across America.” Accompanied, perhaps, by a small picture of Rachel at the bottom of the screen and a quickie voice-over: “I’m Rachel Maddow, and I approved this ad.”
Can you tell I’ve had too much time on my hands today?
Salon’s David Talbot scared me like Freddy (the world needs a Sugababes reference every now and then) two weeks ago with his article “The Pastor Who Clashed with Palin,” which explained why even 80-year-old retired Baptist ministers think the Governor of Alaska is “Jerry Falwell with a pretty face.”
The article detailed Palin’s interest in book banning (gay books, natch), her work as an anti-choice crusader, and her wacky creationist belief that man and dinosaur walked the earth at the same time in what had to have been an Odd Couple-esque “Dinosaur = Oscar Madison, Humans = Felix Unger” arrangement. Then there was the issue of her reported response to Philip Munger, an Alaskan political acvitist, when asked if she believed in the End of Days. According to Munger, “She looked in my eyes and said, ‘Yes, I think I will see Jesus come back to earth in my lifetime.'” (What about Elvis and Tupac?)
Now comes an article in today’s L.A. Timesthat determines Palin “treads carefully between fundamentalist beliefs and public policy.” It quotes John Stein, who helped her early in her political career, as saying “She’s got a fine-tuned sense of how far to push.”
Allison Mendel, an attorney who sued the state of Alaska seeking mandated health insurance benefits for same-sex partners of state employees, says Palin “has been careful not to squander all her political capital on social conservative issues.” All the Times has to say on the insurance matter was this:
Palin also did not challenge an Alaska Supreme Court ruling that mandated health insurance benefits for same-sex partners. Instead she signed a nonbinding referendum that asked voters their opinion on the issue.
While it’s true she didn’t challenge it, she had a few things to say about it, all pandering to bigoted voters.
The part of the Times article that really got to me, though it may seem trivial to some, goes back to Palin’s comments about dinosaurs. Bill McAllister, her chief spokesman as governor, is asked about it:
McAllister said that he never heard Palin make such remarks about dinosaurs and that Palin preferred not to discuss her views on evolution publicly.
“I’ve never had a conversation like that with her or been apprised of anything like that,” McAllister said. He added that “the only bigotry that’s still safe is against Christians who believe in their faith.”
If ever a statement deserved to be met with a chorus of boos and the throwing of rotten tomatoes, it’s that crap about “the only bigotry that’s still safe” being “against Christians who believe in their faith,” but I wouldn’t expect the anti-gay, anti-choice crowd to understand that.
If they’re anything like my grandma, they’ve been known to accidentally buy dog food for their cats — and then pass it along to you, sighing, “I don’t know, Pepper wouldn’t touch it, but maybe yours will like it.” That’s crazy, right? It makes you question their mental competency almost as much as the hideous sweaters they give you each holiday season.
The sad fact of the matter is some grandparents aren’t qualified to make important decisions, like who to vote for in the upcoming presidential election, on their own. That’s where we come in, for reasons Silverman helpfully explains in this video.
I’m fortunate in this regard. My grandparents, while insane, are not insane enough to vote for John McCain. But they are Jewish septuagenarians, a group McCain was hoping to frighten into supporting his bid for the presidency by having other right-wing sleazeballs suggest that Obama has some kind of secret, religiously-motivated political agenda that would threaten Jews.
Fearmongering is, as Karl Rove taught us in 2004, an effective way of grabbing votes. But the only candidate capable of terrifying Jews this election season is Sarah Palin, whose church is tied to all kinds of things that most Jewish voters would find alarming. (See: this and this. My grandparents aren’t Internet-savvy, so I’ve been printing these types of stories out for them to distribute to their friends.)
If your grandparents need a swift kick in the ass, take a page from Sarah Silverman’s book and tell them what’s what. If that fails, you could always point out — respectfully, lovingly, and of course with great tact — that odds are they’ll be dead in 10 years and you’ll be around for another 50. Which is why it’s monumentally important they don’t fuck this up for you. And if they let you down, it’s off to Shady Pines.
