She’s bigger than John McCain.
Since emerging as pick for republican VP candidate, Sarah Palin has become queen of the tabloids, on the new covers of Us Weekly, OK!, People and the National Enquirer. She’s fodder for internet rumor and innuendo, the lineage of her month’s old son in question, her not-yet-old-enough-to-vote daughters’ unwed baby bump exposed. John Edwards didn’t get so much negative press and he was dumb (or egotistical) enough to let the condom slip.
Sarah Palin's Dark Secrets!
Affair that nearly ruined her career!
Family war that exposed her lies!
Babies, lies and scandal!
The real truth about her baby!
Forget successful and powerful career woman, one who stands to possibly change the course of history. Her media fueled persona is more akin to teen-daughter-train-wreck-enabler Lynne Spears. Pictures have emerged on the Web of Palin from college days, pert and perky, and wearing a t-shirt that reads, “I may be broke, but I’m not flat busted.”
So. Fucking. What.
I want to feel proud that a woman may hold the second most powerful seat in the country (okay, third, after Oprah). But instead my vagina is sad. Is she scandalous merely because she’s a woman, an attractive one at that? Or is it simply that she doesn’t bring enough to the party, foisted upon the masses as the token woman. During this historical time in the presidential election process, women still get the fuzzy end of the lollipop. A country that once enslaved people of color now celebrate a skinny young black man, holds him in rock star grandeur. He sells out stadiums. He preaches and promises. He’s U2. But we’ve yet to accept a woman, any woman, as a leader of change. Strong woman are still bitches, effeminate women (like Palin) ditzy and misguided.
We’re smarter than this, boys and girls. It’s all just a cheap trick.