Sarah Palin's idea of advancement

Sarah Palin should probably run for P.T.A. president, because that is about all she's capable of handling.


Her desultory, you-won't-have-me-to-kick-around-anymore press conference on Friday made clear to me that she is completely incapable of handling a major job outside of Alaska.


Prior to that, I was keeping an open mind. However, she now has demonstrated that her prickly skin is so thin, that I'm convinced a national office for her is not in the Republican Party's best interest.


The talk over the weekend at the gathering we attended was one of sympathy for Palin; however, I was the only one who thought she was completely out of her element, get out of kitchen if you can't stand the heat. Once I suggested we were speaking about the presidency, then asking everyone if they have heard ANYTHING new and fresh from her since they've been introduced to her--they hadn't because she's said NOTHING new--a couple of my friends admitted that what I was saying was true.

Now that she's resigned from her job--bad move--she's lost her credibility and shown me she can't go the distance.

Plus, she's become arrogant.

Thanks for the read.

Palin's redux in Vanity Fair

If you read the Vanity Fair piece about Sarah Palin you'll realize it's an awful lot like a recapitulation of Sarah's failures during the presidential campaign--in the eyes of the most vain and ridiculous of the media cultural elite.

There's nothing really new therein--something I was looking for--except maybe the latest dirty laundry statements made by Steve Schmidt, McCain's guy, about Sarah being a total whack job. He suggested she may have been deep in post partum depression (Yeah, that's it.) Other than that, most of the story was a gossipy thing, lazily written by someone who sounds like he'd be a silly type anyway, if one were to decide carry on a conversation with him. In other words, you know he'd never step up and do something serious with you.

And much of it is the usual he said she said.

After the election, I wrote that Governor Palin desperately needed to hit the books, find a subjects committee and work her little fanny off in research and learning, understand and base her beliefs in sound theory...work on the presentation. There were others who agreed that she does possess the "quick study" capability, and with some honing and grooming...well, maybe she could influence or at least hold her own with a hostile media. At least, they couldn't take advantage of her knowledge, or make fun of her lack thereof.

Well, evidently Mrs. Palin has decided against working within such a leveling constraint because here she is--bigger than before: at a ball game, hockey game, shopping, here and there. She's picked a fight with Letterman and sort of won; she's currently picking a fight with Vanity Fair and the McCain advisers (which will do NOTHING to help her); and she's continuing to play in the dirt with the rest of them. I can see her being "difficult." Sorry. She does so at her own risk, I think.

There's still time, maybe, for her to return to Alaska and become a hermit.

Thanks for the read.

Sanford: Another Republican man in power bites the dust

You know, as a Repubican woman, I can only say I'm sick of these men in our party who continue to carry us down the river to ignominy. The opposition is entirely correct in calling us hypocrites.

One of the reasons our party is in trouble is precisely due to men like Governor Sanford, whose sickening mea culpa I am now witnessing, cannot somehow find it in themselves to stay faithful to their wives. Currently, he is pontificating about God's law and sin. He also is suggesting that this news conference (the one right now) is his payback.

No it isn't, Gov. You've lost everything--not to mention maybe the White House, Dumbass. Hope it was worth it.

I suggest the cheaters simply do what Rudi did: out and out infidelity--in your face cheating and take the consequences. At least Rudi is not a hypocrite.

Again, a Republican man has cheated and we suffer. I'm sick of them and I want them out of party leadership.

Thanks for the read.

Maybe today isn't a good time to quit smoking, Mr President

Asked about smoking, Obama replies: "First of all, the new law that was put in place is not about me...I think it's fair to say...that you just think it's neat to ask me about my smoking, as opposed to it being relevant" to the law.

Fallen off the wagon? "Yes. Am I a daily smoker, a constant smoker? No...I would say I am 95 percent cured, but there are times when I mess up." (1:10 p.m.) Politico. Com 6/22/09

Psst...Sir...Mr. President! Over here.

Little testy, aren't we? I mean, you really need to tone down the pissant number. Snarky is as snarky does, after all. All that passive-aggression on foreign policy must be slipping through.

You know, it's tough to quit smoking, tougher to stay quit. God knows I quit at least a hundred times before I finally stopped. Ask any ex-smoker how tough it is...

But, trying to quit right now, while the entire world is on your shoulders? Do you really think now is a good time to quit smoking, what with North Korea and Iran, Afghanistan, Paki...I don't know, I'm just saying.

Try the patch. That finally worked for me.

Oh! And good luck. It's a bear.

Thanks for the read.

Obama's first major foreign policy failure: Iran

President Obama's basic squishy nature and fear of not being liked has become most obvious as he squanders the opportunity to possible revolution and regime change in Iran at most, or great societal movement and evolution toward change at least, by remaining cool and instead telling off color jokes at a dinner with his media pals.

I expect his numbers to fall concurrent with his delay in acknowledging and giving outright support to the brave Iranian street protesters. It is a supremely un-American that this president is this mum, muted...cool, above it all, uninvolved...disengaged. I don't recall this language and tone since the Carter administration. It is hard to listen to.

In one of his early missives he compares the Iranian situation to the American Civil Rights movement and even quotes Martin Luther King.

I didn't get the correlation (because there isn't any), but I suspect the Obama people were (attempting to) inferring legitimacy on the Iranian Regime--like it was the United States government--thus strengthening the Obama statement so they can "deal" with their nuclear program, which is what he's been talking about since his campaign. Gosh. He's just gotta talk with these Iranians...to show talking works, I guess, to make his point!

What all this is really about is Obama's narcissism and belief that he can take his shining personality into Iran and save the Middle East. He's seeing that go away on a daily basis and his fantasy is fading with each protester's realization that this freedom thing is worth dying for.

Barack Obama is shockingly silent to the point of world wide embarrassment when the very subject about which he should be the vanguard, the subject matter expert, the go-to guy, the ONE, is playing golf. Merkel, Sarkozy and Brown are all on board in strength with Iran's protesters and each had stunning statements.

Whar a huge disappointment it must be for some of the Iranian people to know that the American president is so sheepish when speaking about the greatest American product.


The evolution of a revolution
Last Monday, three-million Iranians (ostensibly) protested over the way the votes were counted in their Presidential election. By Friday, they were protesting that they can't hold hands in public or wear lipstick; or that women receive beatings from their husbands and they don't like that; and they want to go dancing in nightclubs and listen to the music they like, not the stuff the mullahs like.

This is a cultural revolution that initially masqueraded as a political one. Blue jeans and cell phones provide the foundations to the changing of Iran.

Meanwhile, the leader of the free world, Barack Obama, refuses to give them their boost in sending them his support, although he continues a tacit statement or two. It is a shameful display.

His impossible laid back nature and lack of engagement makes me worry about our safety.

Thanks for the read.

Cocktails and poetry at the "House"

Hrumph.

My Cocktail Party at the White House invite didn't arrive again last week. I guess it was lost in the mail. Instead, I was left to eavesdrop on the A-Lister's conversations and self-conscious banter with one another while the hostess, Mrs. O, must have exclaimed, "Why, this is just sooo French."

If there is one thing I've learned by standing next to Hollywood stars et al (I've been to two Academy Awards shows and have met a fair number of celebs), there is absolutely nothing more tedious than watching these people discuss politics, economics, social science, philosophy--did I miss anything? They usually do not look you in the eye if you happen to be a nobody; they're kind of like the guy you have a dud blind date with--he's always looking over your shoulder at other women. In words most of us understand, they are complete egotists and narcissists, almost to the point of pathology. That's why they do what they do.

Such strange little people these Hwood types are. First of all, most of them I saw are small...in stature. Tiny little folks. I was amazed that they weren 't the statuesque forces of nature we see on the screen. Secondly, as most people in "the industry" know, actors are singularly stupid. No, I mean dumb as a box of rocks.

So, going to the poetry jam, as FLOTUS called it would have been an exercise in not laughing out loud.

Soirees don't belong in the White House.

Sorry. It's undemocratic and small. Does anyone really believe that the Barack is taking in one scintilla of advise from one of these twits? I thought that he was having these things so he could talk up Republicans.

Oh, George Clooney and Tom Hanks, those two Ph.Ds, of course. I forgot. Then there's the great John Stewart and Bill Maher. Now there are brain trusts you can believe in.

The fact of the matter is everyone who is in the drivers' seats currently are so full of themselves, they've feathered and bowed their outsides into preening peacocks fluffed up to be one of the Man's faves. As long as they are in the president's sphere, they have a chance to be important. They're like little children who dress up in Mommy's and Daddy's best clothes and step out so Pop can take a picture. They've arrived. Finally, someone is taking them seriously.

What is this need to idolize their leader? That is a distinctively Democrat Party trait--their idiotic hero worship, as well as their need to be acknowledged by same. (It's a third world, po' me thing.)

We're living in a country where substance has left our political conversation and has been replaced by silliness. There are two wars in which our men and women are losing their lives, people are literally losing their homes and jobs; meanwhile, White House cocktail parties and four-day prom-like events like the White House Correspondents Dinner have become shockingly common. Yet, to mention that these types of displays should be toned down is met with shrugged shoulders and the response that we Republicans are simply showing our usual sour grapes.

No. We're not.

There's a haughtiness about the Obama administration that is off putting to me. It is the raised chin, the very "obvious" superiority of their presence and the inferiority of yours which causes me to think there is a big fall coming.

Nothing lasts forever, even extreme coolness. Meanwhile, the GOP needs to sit and wait to pick up the pieces.

Thanks for the read.

Racehorses I have known

The last time I was at Churchill Downs I luxuriated on Millionaire's Row, delighting in a camphor-like essence emanating from a silver cup all iced up with Makers Mark, sugar water and ground mint. Folks around Louisville named that a Mint Julep.


As I recall, we were well into hot weather when Sister Shirl and I were squired about by our own personal--and genuine--Kentucky Colonel, my late brother-in-law, Warren. He sure did know how to show us a good time at America's most genteel race track.

It was thrilling to stand in the midst of the Downs history; I felt immense energy the second I walked through its gates. By having a love of horses myself, just being there gave me one of the happiest times of my life. It didn't matter that it was just another race day at Churchill Downs. I think I even won a couple of bucks. I was in heaven.

Now that I've walked around the track, the Kentucky Derby is even more special. Today's Derby run and win by Mine That Bird has brought back another time in my life that gave me much joy reminding me that life can be a wonderment of repeated events, if only just memories.

Or, I'm just getting old.

I've owned a couple or three horses. One of my horses cost me about the same as Mine That Bird once sold for. Originally, another I wound up with was won in a claim race by its original owner. If you don't know, a claim race is an event where iffy horses with iffy futures go to get a home. They run a race and people win them. It's not exactly the Special Olympics, but there are some problem rides.

The man who won one of my horses raced him too early and often, and messed up his legs. My understanding is the owner was not a horse person, but he had big ideas of raising a winner. Stupid man.

Having failed at his original plan, the horse was then anted in a poker game. The same thing happened with a new owner. Finally, this idiot got it through his head that the horse wouldn't run because he was broken down by age 2-1/2 and sold him to a nice lady who trained him to be a hunter/jumper.

This is where I came in. I bought this horse for a lot of money--not a small number for a single mother who was broke all of the time. But this single purchase kept my children off the streets and at the stables where they belonged mucking stalls for many years.

Years ago, someone told me that owning a sailboat is like standing in the shower and tearing up $20 dollar bills. Taking into account inflation, that amount should be $50 by now. That's one "hobby."

Owning a thoroughbred is like standing is a pile of manure and tearing up $100 dollar bills.

Back to my horse. The name the old owner came up with was "Halston." I'll bet the owner's girlfriend named him. His Jockey Club name escapes me. He was a big bay gelding--18 hands--who had a wild streak in him a mile-wide, probably emanating from his unfortunate childhood. Only one of my daughters could ride him well. I guess she wasn't afraid of him. But then, she wasn't afraid of me either. Or anyone else for that matter.

He was a great jumper and fast as, well a rabbit or, a racehorse, an E-Ride for sure. But, worst of all, he was a horse I couldn't count on. That made me mad considering his job description.

Eventually, as my twin girls grew older, their interests changed. Turning 16 in the horse world is when most girls leave riding behind. They preferred other forms of transportation, so off to work they went to buy their cars. I was left holding the reins, so to speak.

Neither I nor my husband were going to actually try to stride this monster, whose idea of pleasure riding was cantering along for a while then throwing his head in wild ways and jumping up and down like a jack in the box, and then suddenly coming to a stop; then doing it again; and then again.  It was time to sell the horse.

I wish I could say I got my money out of Halston. Horses must believe in Karma, because every time I tried to show him to a buyer, he would break out in great, huge whorls of hives. It was as if he knew that any new buyer--especially those with darling daughters in tow--would send him through the same routine of living in a stable paddock (nice as it was) and schlepping to stupid horse shows with dumb, insipid, spoiled little rich people who cry all the time if they don't win and then gets blamed.

I always tried to console Halston regarding the horse show thing, telling him at least he'd see other horses and and he could compare notes; how handsome he was, that he was certainly the biggest dude in the barn. I certainly don't know why he complained. I even gave him extra carrots and apples.

His demonstration of appreciation was limited. After he nearly broke my arm when I turned him out in a corral, I yelled at him and told him I was going to give him away. Out of spite, I sold him to a trainer for a dollar, which is what I told him he was worth. I understand the buyer/trainer put him out to pasture, the best place for him.

I had another horse. "Marty" was a little over 15 hands, about the size of Mine That Bird who looked almost exactly like him in form and image. He used to slip in and out of places too like Mine. In fact, they should rename Mine "Mercury" for his ability to shimmey between those two semis on either side of him in today's final run for the roses.

We sold Marty to a polo player in Solano Beach for $500. No, not much money, but I've never seen a happier horse. Besides, we had an opportunity to attend a couple of polo matches. My girls and I cried when he left, but we parted on good terms. He was just too little for hunter/jumper events. Again, horse karma. He's happy.

Oh, Marty and I had no conversations. I think he might have had "little horse syndrome."

Gosh, those were wonderful times!

Thanks for the read.