2. When Sarah Palin stops walking with Katie and starts fumbling around to answer the follow up about Rick Davis’s stake in Freddie Mac being a totally obvs conflict of interest, it reminds me of when confused people who don’t know where they’re going in New York pause in the middle of the street and look and point at things and are just so hopelessly baffled I want to help them but they cannot even help themselves. This is how I feel about Sarah Palin, who I cannot stop referring to as Sarah Palin, as if she were Jordan Catalano, or something.
3. Can Sarah Palin cease referring to Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac as “Fannie and Freddie” in loving tones, like they’re good pals she wants to have over for a wintery-wonderland wolf BBQ? It’s making me incredibly uncomfortable.
4. “I’m not looking at poll numbers…Americans at the end of the day are going to be able to go back and look at track records.” You forgot your thinking cap, Sarah Palin! Put it on next time.
5. I’m not a big drinker — my co-workers here can attest to that,
considering I throw down gallons of the clear stuff (water!) while they
happily imbibe, but today I really feel like throwing back a few. And
it’s only 1 pm! So, new drinking game idea: every time Sarah Palin evasively
refers to John McCain when asked a question about her OWN opinion,
drink. When she refers to John McCain in lofty, Christ-savior-like
terms, drink. John McCain, John McCain, John McCain. Drink! Drink,
drink, drink. The woman swoons over his moniker more than Republican
primary candidates heart dropping the Regan bomb during debates. Drink
it down, na.
6. “We are getting into crisis mode here,” “This is crisis moment for
America.” “This is crisis mode that we are in.” Lulz! Sarah
Palin, did you read the newspaper (or maybe just the headlines, you’re
a busy woman after all) yesterday and see that phrase buried somewhere
and decide it was the proper way to answer every single damn fucking
question Katie Couric asked you, because it sounds grandiose and allows you to imagine
you’re swooping in to settle our troubles like ginger-ale on an upset
stomach? You’re more like explosive hot sauce on an ulcer, dear. You
see, I’m already having panic attacks about paying for the college
education of the fetuses I haven’t created yet, because I probably can’t
afford to get married, or buy a house to raise the children in, or
even treat myself to Starbucks tomorrow, and whatnot, so I’m more than a little freaked about my future as it is. Maybe you could refrain from
scaring me half to death when I’m already huddled under my desk,
chewing my hair and drinking whiskey I stole from my boss out of a mug I usually reserve for
English Breakfast tea? Well, at least now I know what kind of potential leader you
are: The kind that reminds us how fucked shit is before telling us
how John McCain — who maybe, as Mark noted, isn’t above suspending his presidency and leaving you in charge so he can heal his failing immune system — will SAVE us all. Right? I AM NOT
7. But wait, says empathetic Sarah Palin: “I’m ill about the position that America is in.” We can’t have YOU sick TOO. We already have John McCain. Who is going to run the country when you both go down in flames of sick?
8. Katie Couric: “Would you support a moratorium on foreclosures?” Sarah Palin: That’s something that John McCain and I have both been discussing…it’s going to be a multi-faceted solution.” Katie Couric: “What are the pros and cons of it?” Sarah Palin: “Stumble fumble bumble huh?” Yes, I know it’s very complicated, Sarah Palin — I don’t understand it very well either, which is why I keep reading and watching things to attempt to teach myself the basics. I also call my Dad a lot and make him explain things to me in elementary-school terms I understand because I suck at the maths. But I’m glad you and I are in the same boat! Yeah, really. Do you want to talk to my Dad about it, too? He’s very patient.
9. I can’t watch Sarah Palin’s mouth move without my toes curling painfully inside of my sneakers. It’s kind of fun to make it happen!
10. I have refrained from commenting on her outfit, but I can’t. Go. Any. Longer. Without. Saying: It’s a heinous pink Star Trek jacket, it’s unbecoming, and I hate it. Fuck, I miss Hillary Clinton’s pantsuits. The end.