Kindergarten Gop

In an article in the Daily Beast, Republican strategist Evan Siegfried wrote, “Republicans face a real and looming threat to our survival as a major party: Just 20 percent of millennials identify with the GOP.” To gain millennial support, Siegfried argued that the Republican Party should demonstrate a commitment to such issues as racial equality, affordable college tuition, and LGBT rights.

Well, that’s one way to go about it. Sarah Palin seems to have a different approach. She appears to be grooming the kindergarten demographic to become future members of the Republican Party. Or at least that’s what I gather from this Facebook post:

“Phony baloney uproar over Trump's so-called "immigration ban" while the silence is deafening over Obama's real immigration ban.”

It’s good, but I do think it would have been more effective if it included something about Obama having cooties.

Photo by Grant Barrett from San Mateo, California, United States - Guthrie at daycare, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=23549945

Make That a Double

My two-year-old daughter loves listening to nursery rhymes in the car. One of the tracks on her CD is “The Owl and the Pussy Cat.” Allow me to share an excerpt with you: “Oh, beautiful pussy. Oh, pussy, my love. What a beautiful pussy you are, you are. What a beautiful pussy you are.”

Yes, I know “pussy” means “cat,” but it doesn’t stop me from snickering like Beavis and Butthead in my head every time I hear it, and it didn’t stop me from wanting to open my car door and jump out when it came on while my father-in-law was in the car.

My point is that even though “pussy” means “cat” clearly I would never, like, tell someone that I have to get home to feed my pussy.

It’s the same with the word “impotent.” Sure, one of its definitions is “lacking power or ability,” but when I hear the word “impotent,” there’s really only one thing I associate it with. Therefore, if I wanted to convey that something (besides that) was lacking power or ability, I would opt for a synonym.

But that’s because I’m not Sarah Palin and haven’t mastered the double entendre.

In 2015, she wrote an article called “Obama’s Impotence: Why He Can’t ‘Drill, Baby, Drill,'” and it might be one of my favorite things I have ever read. I desperately wanted to include this article in my book, but I it didn’t quite satisfy my book’s needs. However, if my book had a chapter on the double entendre, I would have definitely slid it right in there.

Check out these excerpts:

·      Let the United States Military do its job and kick ISIS ass… or pull out, like you promised.

·      surely they can pinpoint billowing oil facilities in the Islamic flatlands that are much larger than your tiny golf balls

·      Anyone in bed with the enemy gets cut off. Got it?

·      you’re barely limping along as the coalition "leader"

·      the Washington establishment’s complicity with your dysfunction

·      Vladimir Putin is small-headed

·      your waning days in office

·      Wimpy hacks in your lap

     Now, that, my friends, is what I call committing to a theme.

Photo byy Miika Silfverberg - originally posted to Flickr as Birch, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4123493

Mac in Time

Most of us know at least a little bit about John McCain. We know that he ran for president in 2008. We know that he chose Sarah Palin to be his running mate. We know that he was a prisoner of war in Vietnam. But did you know that he was a wrestler in high school and was nicknamed McNasty? Did you know that he had a cameo in Wedding Crashers? Did you know that he owned a DeLorean and a flux capacitor?

Well, I am assuming he owned a DeLorean and a flux capacitor based on what I read in Sarah Palin’s autobiography. In her first chapter, she recalls the moment that John McCain called to ask if she would like to be his VP. It was August 2008. She was at the Alaska State Fair. I’ll let her to tell you the rest:

            I punched the green phone icon and answered hopefully, “This is Sarah.”

           

            It was Senator John McCain, asking if I wanted to help him change history.

I’m not crazy, right? It would be impossible to change history unless you actually went back in time and, say, caught the apple before it fell on Newton’s head or woke Martin Luther King Jr. up before he had his dream.

I wonder what historical event McCain wanted Palin to help him change. I also wonder what happened to his time machine. I’m assuming he lost it shortly after he made that phone call because I’m pretty sure that on November 4, 2008 he would have programmed that sucker to go back to August 2008.

Photo by Marc Nozell from Merrimack, New Hampshire, USA - http://www.flickr.com/photos/37996583933@N01/2146440291, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3299760

Follow Your Carpet Bliss

I had no idea until I was 30 that I wanted to be a writer. (I’m not going to tell you how long ago that was.) But my point is that I never really took any writing classes in college—and that is why I was so impressed with myself when I had this epiphany about writing on my very own.

I was watching a zombie movie. In one of the scenes, the main character and his mom were in the kitchen. They were just chatting, and the guy picked up a knife to chop an onion or something. And that’s when I had my epiphany: he’s going to need that knife for something else very soon. Something zombie related. And I was right! So, in other words, everything that a writer includes in his or her work is there for a reason. I know it seems pretty obvious, but I had never really thought about it before.

Since then, I have read several books and blogs on writing that have confirmed my epiphany—that a writer should edit out anything that doesn’t have to do with plot, character development, or theme. 

Which is why I was so puzzled by the inclusion of this anecdote in Sarah Palin’s autobiography:

“I remember lush emerald moss hugging the hillsides. Mom always said she was going to buy a carpet that color some day—and one day she did.”

So, basically, her mom said that one say she was going to buy green carpet, and then one day … wait for it, wait for it … she bought green carpet.

I mean, I guess Sarah could have included the carpet story to reveal her mother’s character. I gleaned two characteristics:

1.     Her mom is a woman of her word.

2.     Her mom has interesting taste in carpet colors.

Sarah Palin’s Christmas: More Is Less

Happy holid … er … scratch that. What I meant to write, Sarah Palin, was Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!! MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Phew! That was close. Sarah already got testy with the Obamas earlier this month because of their card that said “Happy Holidays.” She tweeted this in response:

"Merry Christ... er... scratch that. "We Are the Obamas and It's Some Random Holiday!”

I sure don’t want her to think that I am one of those Joe McScrooges waging a war on Christmas.

I wish I could take credit for the fabulous term Joe McScrooge, but Sarah Palin coined it in her 2013 book, Good Tidings and Great Joy: Protecting the Heart of Christmas. She wrote:

“This modern-day Scrooge—lets call him "Joe McScrooge" for short—threatens to destroy every last bit of Christmas cheer we have left.”

I have to say that I am impressed with Sarah for creating such a complex character in Joe McScrooge. On the one hand, this Joe McScrooge seems to be so stingy that he won’t even allow “lets” to have an apostrophe, even though it so desperately needs one. Yet, on the other hand, instead of calling him Scrooge, she calls him Joe McScrooge for short, even though Joe McScrooge has five more letters than Scrooge. In other words, Palin created a character who has the capacity to live either a miserly life or a generous life; he just has to choose. And what particularly intrigues me about Joe McScrooge is his decision to all of a sudden become Irish.

Merry Holidays, everyone!

Too Close for Comfort

My first quarter of teaching English Composition, I introduced the research essay by telling my students that they could write on any topic of their choosing. My second quarter, I introduced the research essay by telling my students that they could write on any topic of their choosing—except the Illuminati.

I wasn’t trying to be mean by banning my students from writing about the Illuminati, but basically half my students would have chosen it as a topic, and it’s a conspiracy theory about a secret society that controls the world. It’s pretty hard to find meaningful research on something that’s being kept a secret. I mean, I guess if my students went undercover and infiltrated the Illuminati, but I could barely get them to show up for class, so you know.

But my students’ obsession with the Illuminati conspiracy theory illustrates how the classroom is just a microcosm of society. Studies show that Americans, in general, are obsessed with conspiracy theories. Almost 25 percent of Americans believe that the moon landing was a conspiracy. Almost 50 percent believe that the JFK assassination was a conspiracy. And over 50 percent believe that the 9/11 attacks were a conspiracy.

Regarding 9/11, some people believe that government officials had foreknowledge of the attacks. Some people believe that government officials orchestrated the attacks. And some even believe that shape-shifting extraterrestrials bent on world domination were responsible.

Considering that Americans largely embrace 9/11 conspiracy theories, based on her People magazine interview, Sarah Palin is lucky she escaped becoming the center of one. When asked what she was reading for fun, she said this:

“Do we consider The Looming Tower something just for fun? That's what I've been reading on the airplane. It's about 9/11. If I'm going to read something, for the most part, it's something beneficial.”

Doesn’t her answer kind of make it sound like she thought 9/11 was beneficial? At least at first glance? Of course, she wasn’t saying that 9/11 was beneficial. She was saying that informing herself about it was beneficial. But it just sounds wrong, doesn’t it?

Well, I thought it was hilarious, and I really wanted to include it in my book, but, alas, there’s nothing technically wrong with it. Maybe if I had a chapter called "Too Close for Comfort: The Minimum Number of Words That Should Exist Between '9/11' and an Adjective with a Positive Connotation." Or "Call Me Superstitious: Books I Would Never Read on an Airplane."