John McCain has named Sarah Palin, first-term Republican governor of Alaska, as his running mate. Hmm … okay … not exactly what I was expecting. At the very least I expected to be looking up information on what’s-his-name Polenta. Had the name been Romney, Ridge, or Lieberman, I’d have just shrugged. Those guys I know.
Palin sounded interesting … eats mooseburgers (shoots the moose herself) … has kids with offbeat names … is a former beauty queen … married a commercial fisherman and champion crosscountry snowmachiner (is that the same as a snowmobiler?). Serious Alaskan woman. Everything’s tougher in Alaska, yada, yada.
Okay, I thought, show me (yes, I was born in Missouri), and settled in with my coffee to watch her speech. Hmmm, she speaks well, too. Articulate (I can still use that adjective, right?), conversational style.
Come on! Seriously, you want me to trust her to backstop the nation’s oldest-ever presidential candidate? You want me to sleep better at night knowing she’ll be stepping in as president if something happens to McCain? You want American voters to back a hot-headed old warmonger and a political novice who probably knows even less about foreign relations than Bobby Jindal? And if McCain is fishing for Hillary’s disenchanted feminist PUMAs, I doubt an anti-abortion woman is going to do it for him.
No. Sorry. Palin is an intriguing woman, probably a nice person with a bright future, but based on what I’ve heard so far, I’d be petrified if she ended up in the Oval Office. McCain, at his age, needed to pick a veep who looked reassuringly presidential.
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