I've reserved further judgement of Republican VP Candidate Sarah Palin since my intitial tirade-y letter to John McCain about his possibly unwise pick. Since then, she's proven to be fascinating fodder for the media, which is feeding upon her as though it hasn't had a meal in years (think hungry zombies with pained grimaces and crazed eyes). She's made a couple of awful blunders and been YouTubed to death for it. For instance, in her now infamous interview with Katie Couric, in response to a question about which newspapers and magazines she reads, she answered, "All of them." When pressed, she still does not name which she reads and instead seems to become defensive and says something about Alaska not being a foreign country - that they do actually receive the same newspapers all Americans have access too. And then there's the portion of the interview in which she explains how Alaska being kind of close to Russia means she's got lots of foreign policy experience. I cringed watching that interview, and when I showed it to Hubs later he had to look away in horror; it was too embarrassing to watch.
Now, I am going to put the fact that I am a registered Democrat on the shelf for a minute, and I'm going to take down the container labeled "Female." The contents of this container have been stirring like jalapeno pizza indigestion ever since Palin stepped onto the scene. Because as a chick, part of me wants Palin to succeed. A dark part of me wants her to step up to the podium tonight, open her mouth calmly, and blast Biden to freaking Mars. My evil feminist side wants her to be so smart, witty, confident, un-shrill, and wonderful, that the heads of sexist a-holes everywhere spin around on their necks and explode.
You know what would have been cool? If Hillary Clinton had been Obama's choice for veep (Biden, oh gawwwwd WHY?!), Clinton could have gone up against Palin, and it would have been woman on woman, and instead of me worrying about a woman coming off as a total 'tard in the VP debates, I could have left my Female container on the shelf because Palin would be like, "Oh EFF, I have to debate HILLARY EFFING CLINTON?! She is going to blast me to Mars." Sexist rednecks would not even watch the debate because they would instead elect to drink Budweiser and discuss other possible all-male tickets, such as the Nader/Gonzalez team. Nader is, after all, super-quick on his feet, as evidenced by his interview with Triumph the Insult Dog.
The little animal in my Female container is rousing and snarling its teeth -- Palin seems not to side with what are traditionally considered female and, coincidentally, Democratic issues. So I am shoving the little animal's head back down into the container and I am storing the Female container back on the shelf, and I am retrieving my well-worn Democrat box.
All right, boys. You win. Blast her to the moon, Mars, wherever. You won't need much help. I'll just drink every time I cringe in embarrassment, so for sure I'll be three sheets to the wind before the debate's even half over.