The Republican National Convention is looking kinda like the White Citizens' Council. Or maybe it's the Liberal Media TV Directors' Council showing only the white faces in the grandstand. Actually, those Citizens' Council meetings tended to be more animated than this crowd, many of whom appear to be the work of taxidermists.
Sara Palin was hard to like before she opened her mouth. Now, it's impossible. It's not what she said in her acceptance speech, it's what she sounds like. She needs a little more Fred Thompson and a lot less Betty Boop in her speechifying to be convincing to anyone who doesn't fully accept her hard right ideology. About Palin, we have to ask of John McCain, "is this the best you can find?" It's the same question we asked of Walter Mondale about his vice presidential running mate and about George H.W. Bush of his choice of Clarence Thomas for Supreme Court Justice.
Makes you long for Elizabeth Dole.
If McCain wanted a woman on the ticket, he should have asked Sandra Day O'Connor.
Like the violin, the clarinet is a marvelous instrument in the hands of a master and a horror in the hands of an amateur.
Palin sounds like a first week student clarinetist. What we need is Benny Goodman.
She's also telling lies about her accomplishments. That gas pipeline that she "built" hasn't been built. At least according to the Anchorage Daily News newspaper. The paper also reports she tried to fire a librarian who refused to pull "objectionable" books off the shelves.
A clarinet out of tune, the reed broken.
The absolute highlight of the McCain speech evening was Mommy. Ninety six years old and obviously spry and able. She diverted attention from the empty seats in the stands. She diverted attention from the candidate's age. She diverted attention from the idea that he is too old to be President.
As for the speech itself: There was absolutely nothing in it and absolutely nothing to it. And the candidate spent as much time talking about his wife (but not her $300,000 outfit, and I'm not making this up, just ask Vanity Fair Magazine which knows about this stuff!) as he did about the substance of the election.
--On today's shopping list: a small box of Purina Cat Chow, even though I no longer have cats. I've just arrived in the Medicare "donut hole" for pharmaceuticals which means I pay retail until the end of the year. So this is a nutrition test.
--Here's a book to miss. Louis Freeh's autobiography. It's called "My FBI," which is all you need to know about it.
--Update: The Purina Cat Chow is delicious. I may have it for breakfast even BEFORE I am forced to use it.
I'm Wes Richards. My opinions are my own, but you're welcome to them. (R)