Statement of the Grand Inquisitor: Anyone dressing up as Sarah Palin for Halloween is condemned to waterboarding with extreme prejudice. How we’re going to manage to torture such a huge crowd of morons I don’t know—we’ll have to hire a lot of temps, I guess, and have them work in shifts. Because as far as I can tell, everyone is going as Sarah Palin tonight. Male, female, young, old, gay, straight, human, animal, it doesn’t matter. If you don’t want to see thousands of fake (or should I say faker) Sarah Palins roaming the streets, lock your doors and keep the curtains closed.
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The fix was in. There’s no other way to explain the disconnect between Sarah Palin’s performance in last night’s debate–which made me cringe so much that my forehead started to cramp–and the post-debate analysis, in which everyone in punditland agreed on the happy Hollywood ending: Sarah Palin has redeemed herself. Seeing pundits all agree about this was terrifying.
What I saw in the debate wasn’t the hyper-confident, polished, prom-queen bully from the GOP Convention, but a woman desperately in need of beta-blockers: a nervous, wobbly-voiced contestant in a County Fair amateur show trying her darndest not to forget her lines. I was sure that her performance had McCain kicking his dog and calling his wife unprintable names, and that Palin would be announcing her withdrawal from the race “for personal reasons” by breakfast time. (more…)
Last week, Republican vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin declared that she was willing to go to war against Russia on behalf of Georgia. Palin wasn’t talking about launching World War III on behalf of our Georgia–you know, the adorable Southern state famous for its peaches, June bugs and KKK marches–but rather for a tiny mountainous country that few Americans even knew existed before last month, and still couldn’t locate on a map if their lives depended on it–even though their lives now do depend on it.
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Sarah Palin Looking Hot, Hot, Hot
All this talk of Sarah Palin for Vice President has gotten so pervasive you can hear it as you walk down the street, a kind of sinister hiss eddying around you that sounds like spaylinspaylinspaylinspaylin. It has a scary hypnotic effect that I remember from—before. You know, that time in 2000 when a certain obnoxious yahoo emerged on the national stage as a candidate for the White House, and even as every sane person was laughing him off, you could hear it growing, this low cloddish chant that went dubyadubyadubyadubya.
So before we all succumb to mass hypnosis, let me just point out that what we’ve got here is another Manchurian Candidate.
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