Having blogged about the come-hither charms of Sarah Palin, based only on her reputation and the raft of carefully-chosen still photos presented by the McCain campaign to the media, I felt I had to watch her convention speech last night and see what she is really like in motion.
I came away disappointed and very uneasy. No more steamy fantasies about her for me. She seemed creepy -- sassy and yet intolerantly provincial at the same time, with about as much gravitas as a high school student council candidate. Imagining her as our chief executive, or even as our number-one ambassador to the world, made me feel cold all over. If anyone could possibly garner less credibility on the world stage than George W. Bush, here she was.
As an effete east-coast intellectual, I almost choked on my latte as I watched the video of the audience ("crowd" would be too generous, given all the empty seats).
The GOP has clearly abandoned their pretense of inclusiveness, their attempts to make their party look like the real America. Amid an ocean of pale skin, neck wattles, receding hairlines, odd hats and ill-fitting clothes, and seemingly finger-painted "Hockey Moms 4 Palin" signs, I counted fewer than five blacks, and almost as few young people. Compared to the crowd at Obama's convention, the RNC seemed to proclaim that the future belongs to... the past?
But creepier still was the constant return to the image of various members of the Palin family holding and caressing the famous Down's Syndrome infant the candidate courageously decided not to abort, or so goes the heavy-as-lead narrative. I'm not sure why, if her campaign wants her family left out of the public eye, they would insist on inflicting the image of the baby being passed around like a plate of nachos.
I also want to be first on the record in saying that the hapless high-school kid that knocked up Palin's daughter Bristol is NOT a member of the Palin family, no matter how many anti-reality spells the Republicans try to cast over the arena.
What the hell was this Young Stud of the Klondike doing onstage?! Whose idea was that?! Over here we have Obama, his wife and daughters, and over here... Palin, her family, and... a kid who got laid!
See hypocrisy's genitals! See family re-defined! See the vice-presidential statutory baby-daddy!
Look, if Bristol were my daughter, impregnated in an illegal, premarital, underage booty-call, I would be chasing that kid off the stage with my beloved lightweight aluminum Smith & Wesson .38 Special, not foisting him at the septuagenarian McCain for the Least-Comfortable Hug Ever. (Or was it a handshake? By that time I was so numb McCain could have sunk his incisors into the kid's neck and drank his blood and it would have failed to shock me.)
Whither abstinence, Wasilla? Thither thou goest, America?
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