Sarah Palin potpourri!

July 30, 2009

La divina.

Candid readers, I appreciate your patience in waiting a month for this latest installment.  I’m honored that some of you wrote specially to request more — so herewith a compilation or potpourri of several squibs and bagatelles, previously published elsewhere, on She Who Must Be Reported On.  There’s no lexical or even thematic thread running through them, except that each glosses a news story touching Gov. Palin; I’ve just transcribed them in chronological order, discrete.  Enjoy!


Preach it, Sarah! And keep being physically and morally beautiful — it makes the Dorian Gray Democrats just livid. Especially Sen. Ketchupheiress, treasonable champion of the American Left in 2004: Horse’s face, horse’s ass. As Churchill reportedly said to the bossy dowager (the literate know the prelude, so I omit it here): “Yes, madame — but in the morning I shall be sober, and you will still be ugly.”

All good satirists go ad hominem, or in Kerry’s case ad equum. Can’t keep it at the level of high legal theory all the time, especially dealing with Sen. Medalsthrower, that betraying bastard.

Actually, on reflection Sarah’s too kind. It’s not so much the length as the corrugation of Kerry’s snout. Really the overall effect is, echoing Catullus 97, the wrinkling and puckering of a dehiscent mule, only permanently frozen in place.

Here’s the poem for my Latinists. Truly, it’s Kerry:

Non (ita me di ament) quicquam referre putavi
utrumne os an culum olfacerem Aemilio.
nilo mundius hoc, nihiloque immundius illud,
verum etiam culus mundior et melior:
nam sine dentibus est. hoc dentis sesquipedalis,
gingivas vero ploxeni habet veteris,
praeterea rictum qualem diffissus in aestu
meientis mulae cunnus habere solet.
hic futuit multas et se facit esse venustum,
et non pistrino traditur atque asino?
quem si qua attingit, non illam posse putemus
aegroti culum lingere carnificis?


‘Don’t explain; your friends don’t need it, and your enemies won’t believe you anyway.’ Conservatives, consider taking the Governor at her word. Resign political office, sparing oneself and one’s children sprays of poison from Obama’s grinning degenerates, aging catamites like David Letterman and gnawing shrews like “Katie” Couric? Of course the lefties scoff — how should the children of broken homes, of aborting mothers and homosexual fathers, believe? What evidence do they give of even the thinnest scraping of moral imagination? Is it so strange the Governor should stoke great billows of hatred and wrath in HuffPo degenerates? “Remember the word that I said unto you, The servant is not greater than his lord. If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you.”


La Camilla on La Sara, hot off the press:

“The vicious double standard is pretty obvious. Only the tabloids, for example, ran the photos of a piss-drunk Chelsea Clinton, panties exposed, falling into her car outside London clubs a few years ago. If Chelsea had been the scion of Republican bigwigs, those tacky scenes would have been trumpeted from pillar to post in the U.S. as signals of parental failures…”


Palin Derangement Syndromers, gnash your teeth — Sarah speaks. And whenever she does, it’s news. Go ahead: fume, sputter, get red in the face. The more you clench your fists, the more Sarah just slips through your fingers. Here, you can enjoy her dumping on Sen. Voraxa Vulpine’s (D-CA) cap-and-tax hike. The old bag’s just grandstanding, of course; a sop for the Bay Area body-odor set. Don’t kid yourselves, hippies; the bill’s going nowhere. Oh, and Boxer looks like an old boot, too.

Sarah’s media gold and she’ll be making news whenever she wants for years to come. Hate her till you pop a vein, lefties. And Meghan McCain Republicans. (That bleached-out Black Angus, three hundred pounds of Daily Beast beef on the hoof, is twice the woman Sarah is — on the bathroom scale. I adamantly oppose abortion but can’t Cindy McCain be ordered to have one retroactively?)


It takes a Canadian, to see the zero-sum culture war of urban with rural America.

“We have one group that lives under the highly artificial and intensely regulated conditions of post-modern urban life. (Even if they go to a cottage, it will be equipped with the electronic paraphernalia to create a bubble of urbanity.) And, we have another group who remain in contact with the eternal verities of life on this planet. (Who, for instance, associate electric power with doing work, as opposed to “making consumer choices.”)

Perhaps better terms for the two sides, to replace left and right, might be “martians” and “earthlings.”

It is to the earthlings in this scenario that Ms. Palin is speaking. And when she writes lines like this intentional jaw-dropper in the Washington Post — “We are ripe for economic growth and energy independence if we responsibly tap the resources that God created right underfoot on American soil” — she is quite intentionally signalling that she is ready for war.”


The Constitutionalist renaissance continues. The time’s ripe, conservatives and libertarians: give each moderate or centrist you know a thumbnail education in federalism. Most don’t know the concept from Adam, having wasted four years, like yours truly, in one of those NEA homes for aging hippies where they teach sex ed instead of civics. But once explained, they grasp it instinctively, and respond eagerly. They know they don’t like it when the First Citizen (if he is one) confiscates their income to shower his urban redoubts with cash. They know they hate it when federal courts shove alien cultural and religious values down their throats. Now give them a principled reason why! Pragmatics are all very well, but teach these persuadables they don’t even need to reach the merits, whether this or that socialist policy of Obomber “works” or not — does it do violence to the Constitution? Yes. Then defy it.


What’s old is always new again, and where better for the next Tenth Amendment renaissance than the home of Boy Bryan, the original Red State republican — lower-case, please — and a loyal son of Jefferson and Jackson. As those who nowadays attend Jefferson-Jackson Day Dinners are distinctly not. Though of course neither are many of those who host and attend Lincoln Day dinners. Sarah Palin, Michael Huckabee and all other non-Arian presidential hopefuls, please take note.


Give me more of that old-time Ann Coulter! The Queen of Mean dumps on the locker room punching bags and dowdy schoolgirls who grew up to be Jon Stewart, or university staff. Libs are “talking about her like an ex-girlfriend… Because she’s magnificent… a huge star… the hatred for Palin is coming from liberal women in New York who have overheard their boyfriends saying, Well, gotta admit, she is good-looking.”


My old friend Peona de Fleur, high up in a Washington D.C.-area conservative think tank, as quick-witted as your faithful servant but less stodgy, suggests the following captions for Gov. Palin’s photo:

“Because Todd’s at least this big, I keep comin’ back to ride that ride…”

“Anyone who’s not this big won’t beat me down, come 2012…”

“You know what turns liberal women into conservatives?”

“Most Lefties dream of redistribution because they don’t have it upstairs or downstairs…”

Loyal subjects of the Crown: Hussein Obomber and that salope Sarkozy can go sod themselves!


Elizabeth R. has been blackballed from this year’s D-Day commemorations in Normandy — and the fact that Obama and Sarkozy, who disinvited her, are both socially lower than a snake’s belly only adds insult to injury.  My apologies for linking to the Upper West Side Slimes, Jayson Blair’s far-left birdcage liner of record, but they were first to break this story stateside I believe.  The Daily Mail’s take: “Palace fury as Sarkozy refuses to invite royals to 65th Anniversary,” with appropriate details about that Glaswegian tub of guts Gordo Brown’s complicity in the snub.

One hates to say “I told you so,” especially to borderline lèse-majesté, but lie down with dogs and you get fleas. Conservatives warned back in April that Her Majesty shouldn’t receive Calypso Barry and Miss Hell Obomber, but noblesse oblige evidently got the better of her.  The monarch should have taken a leaf from her feisty grandson, Prince Harry, who as your humble servant noted back in January seems blissfully uncorrupted by multiculturalist (i.e. anti-European) agitprop.


Pictured above: The First Dragqueen rubs the Royal Person with her great galumphing paw of a man-hand, as she might another transvestite during some crack-fuelled lip-synch of “I Will Survive.”

Really, to paraphrase Sir Alan Clark’s wife, you can expect this sort of thing when you have below-stairs Anglophobes round for drinks.  QEI, Gloriana, the virgin Bride of England, wouldn’t have boarded her least-favorite dog with the Obamas, let alone spoken to them socially.


Elizabeth I, the Rainbow Portrait: “I know I have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and a king of England too, and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe should dare to invade the borders of my realm.”

And Sarkozy? A glorified fishmonger.

Voici M. la Grenouille-en-Chef avec sa putain — you know, Carla Bruni, the dopey slut who recently dragged her name into the headlines by sassing the Patriarch of Rome on the Christian teaching against contraception.  A subject with which she’s become most intimately familiar, perforce, during long years spent screwing her bowlegged way to the Élysée Palace.  In this photo, her legs are kept from flying apart only by Sarko’s crushing grip, inherited from his gold-grasping cit forebears, who knew to pinch a penny ’til it squeaked:


And that great, rawboned, Korean toaster of a head — can it be Bruni’s a drag queen too?

The Alinskyite prince of South Side: crowned arbiter pietatis by South Bend’s renegade priests.

Candid readers, the “Catholic” theologians denouncing Notre Dame’s Obama protesters as like the Klan, badly need a refresher in irony. This man of blood, with his “Against abortion? Don’t have one,” is on the same logical and moral level as the antebellum slavers who said “Against slavery? Don’t own one.” And yes, there IS a place for Catholics who publicly dissent from the Church’s teaching authority — it’s called Lutheranism.

As is traditional, George Weigel deftly sees through the postures and rhetoric of Vatican II laicism about Obama at Notre Dame to ask cui bono, and the answer is: Obama’s, in the Electoral College:

In order to secure the political advantage Obama had gained among Catholic voters last November, the president of the United States decided that he would define what it means to be a real Catholic in 21st-century America…  He, President Obama, would settle the decades-long intra-Catholic culture war in favor of one faction — the faction that had supported his candidacy and that had spent the first months of his administration defending his policies…

Rather like Napoleon taking the diadem out of the hands of Pope Pius VII and crowning himself emperor, President Obama has, wittingly or not, declared himself the Primate of American Catholicism…

What the bishops of the United States have to say about this usurpation of their authority will be very interesting to see. Whether Obama’s Catholic acolytes will recognize a genuine threat to religious freedom in what they are already celebrating as their Notre Dame victory over the pro-life yahoos and reactionaries will also be instructive.

Indeed.  This is, of course, a live issue not only in Roman Catholic (and Orthodox) moral theology and Church governance, but in Constitutional law as well, which necessarily and passionately engages evangelical and other traditionalist Protestants.  These include once-and-future Republican Presidential candidate Gov. Mike Huckabee (R-AR), who during his campaign last year made the slavery/abortion analogy for federal law explicit, with some learning lightly worn about the Kansas-Nebraska Act and Dred Scott v. Sandford:

What are we saying to the generation coming after us when we tell them that it is perfectly OK for one person to own another human being?  I thought we dealt with that 150 years ago when the issue of slavery was finally settled in this country, and we decided that it no longer was a political issue, it wasn’t an issue of geography, it was an issue of morality. That it was either right or it was immoral that one person could own another human being and have full control even to the point of life and death over that other human being.

Huck is politically shrewd as well as ethically principled here.  An Old America strategy of invoking the natural law that undergirds the civil, is essential to conservatives’ building big enough coalitions to defeat the secular Left electorally on issues like the sanctity of life and marriage.  It was for instance the fervent participation of the black and Latino churches of California in the Yes on 8 campaign last fall, that enabled us to beat back the homosexual “marriage” lobby here (a majority of whites in the state, nine to nothing concentrated in the liberal littoral, voted to sacramentalize sodomy).

In this connection, herewith video of Dr. Alan Keyes, Obama’s Republican opponent in the 2004 Illinois Senate race, arrested for trespass along with 21 others at Notre Dame, while peacefully praying the Rosary to protest Obama’s presence.  The actual taking into custody, when the police replace the Rosary around Keyes’ wrists with handcuffs, is at about 2:20 in:

A picture or rather video is worth a thousand words; it started precisely this way with Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr., one recalls.


(L) President-eject and p(u)issant master of the universe Barack Hussein Osama, shown taking a short break from his godly work of lowering the seas, healing the planet and exposing survivors of uterine infanticide. (R) Rushing into the gap left by the forcible expulsion of Bill Richardson (D-NM) from the seat of Commerce Secretary, Dhimmicrat time-servers display their credentials for high office to the President-eject.

“Do you know what they do to soft, bald, overweight [men] in prison, Ernest?” — Madeleine in Death Becomes Her


(Blancmange, GA) Jim Martin, Obama stooge and Dhimmicrat candidate for Saxby Chambliss’ (R-GA) Senate seat, staged a rally last night in Atlanta with three close personal friends from the country club. Pictured left to right: T.I., Young Jeezy, Martin and Ludacris. The three caps (on their heads, not in your ass, thank you) are all accomplished musicians. T.I. is a master of the classical violin while Jeezy is known to opera audiences from Sydney to St Petersburg for roles such as Pamino, Lohengrin and Calaf; Ludicrous meanwhile honed his a cappella talents in the choir of King’s, Cambridge while also earning a double first in classics and maths.

Dashing Dhimmicrat Martin, frequently described as a weaker-chinned Mitch McConnell or a doughier Harry “My Pencil’s Outta Lead” Reid, has pledged if elected to bend over backward to help grease the skids for president-elect Sen. Uterine Infanticide (D-IL) and the First Dragqueen, who’s moved on up to a subtle twelve-carat diamond on her big right hand.

Pictured (l to r): Sexist limpwrist; racist blowhard.

Sen. B. Hussein Obama (Weatherman – IL) recently cut an ad denigrating Gov. Palin’s habit of winking to underscore a point she’s making to an audience; the Dhimmicrat is trying to make sexist hay with the governor’s gesture by implying it’s somehow weak or femmy.  (If such qualities were actually disqualifiers for high office then Chickenlegs himself would, of course, have to be rushed to the nearest hospital for an emergency masculinity transfusion.)

But Sarah-cuda or rather her backers didn’t take this one sitting down.  In rejoinder, here’s the Team Sarah ad, apparently in defiance of McCain’s palsied, hopeless little rules about not bringing up B. Hussein’s twenty-year tutelage by ordained-through-the-mail-with-cereal-boxtops Rev. Jerrummayah Uhwrighat (my attempted transliteration of the old thug’s patois).

Barky’s pretty lucky he’s only running against a polite old gentleman of 72 who pussyfoots around the terrorist padrino and the seditious preacher. If that hurricane of élan vital Gov. Palin were the nominee, she’d have long ago done to Barky Hussein what Jesse Jackson yearned to do – except, alas, that Barky’s feral wife long ago nipped ’em off with her lower teeth and keeps ’em in her sack. Her purse I mean.

Vagina dentata.  (Not pictured: tucked phallus and scrotum.)

Why’s Miss Priss bitching – and that’s all it is, bitching – about Gov. Palin’s wink anyway? ’Cause it’s a delightful vernacular touch the Punahou Pimp can never simulate no matter how many gs he labors to drop from his participles – and ’cause reptiles can’t nictitate, right? Except when spitting poison with their forked tongues.


“I’m as corny as Kansas in August…”: Mary Martin as Obamatard prole Chris Matthews (minus the paunch).

Your faithful blogging servant’s rather pressed with my day job today, candid readers, but in the interest of your having something toothsome to read (and mirthful to gaze on) herewith a few bons mots from Mark Steyn in today’s National Review:

This is an amazing race. The incumbent president has approval ratings somewhere between Robert Mugabe and the ebola virus. The economy is supposedly on the brink of global Armageddon. McCain has only $80 million to spend, while Obama’s burning through $600 mil as fast as he can, and he doesn’t really need to spend a dime given the wall-to-wall media adoration. And tonight Chris Matthews’ doctors announced that his leg tingle has metastasized leaving his entire body like a vibrating cellphone whose ringtone is locked on “I’m In Love, I’m In Love, I’m In Love, I’m In Love, I’m In Love With A Wonderful Guy.”

And yet an old cranky broke loser is within two or three points of the King of the World. Strange.

Just so.  Here’s the tall, dark and handsome Matthews in a typical pose:

I’m gonna wash that man right outta my hair… As soon as I grow some.  Aside from out my ears and nostrils, I mean.  Sling me some more of that corned beef hash, Ma — puts hair on your back!

So, just as the Daley Democrats did in Illinois, 1960, along with several thousand of LBJ’s closest deceased friends in Texas, be sure to vote early, and often.  The Dhimmicrats certainly are, snuffling their snouts through a nice rich trove of moldy ACORNs in the gloomy forests of Ohio.  Thus this:

I say, just let John McCain channel his inner Dick Nixon for five minutes (my beloved homeboy, born and now lying at rest just a few miles east of here in Yorba Linda).  Then ain’t no skinny slick Harvard-educated pimp in the world gonna cheat him out of his victory, dead man voting or no.

Fair-weather douchebag.

As various MSM polls in the last two weeks, conveniently loaded with more Democrats than Republicans, seemed to show McCain/Palin down by a large margin, your faithful servant has been amused — and disgusted — to see a rustling pack of “conservative” journalists throw principles overboard and, tripping over their tails in their haste, try to flee the sinking McCain/Palin ship.  (It’s now apparent that McCain/Palin is actually buoying up big-time, per the latest polling, but more on that shortly.)

It’s a ratty rogues’ gallery of time-servers, temporizers and prosy tools: Christopher Buckley, now formerly of National Review; David Brooks of the New York Times (the nose-picker pictured above), Peggy Noonan of the Wall Street Journal, Rod Dreher of the Dallas Morning News, to name just four.  Bitten by a gnawing lust for a seat at the table in the imminent Obama new order, these sharp-toothed little Rattus republicanus have turned squeaking to bite a chunk from the hand that feeds them (for each name I’ve just named, the feeding, or payment for feed, is literally true).

And what an infernal din of squeaks it’s been, too!  We’ve witnessed the unseemly spectacle of hypocrite, heavy-lidded mandarins filing giggly man-crush columns with National Review: Obama “a first-class temperament and a first-class intellect” (he is neither), for which Bill Buckley’s old journal, to stop the old boy spinning in his grave, promptly fired his quisling brat.

But it hasn’t just been Cwis Buckwey dancing in front of the barbarian army like some dopey Ten Commandments extra, strewing rose petals before the conquering hero.  (An image that’s doubly funny because, I mean, try to imagine Obama wielding anything more lethal than a fingernail file!  Which, of course, the brave slanderer of our fighting men in Afghanistan would only use to pick on someone smaller than his own size: yes, he’d doubtless brandish it at the defenseless babies who survive doctor-assisted infanticide in Illinois.)

No, there are even fouler toads burrowed into the MSM muck who’ve been sticking a knife in the back of McCain/Palin when it seemed opportune.  The toads in question are, believe it or not, further down the scale of life even than Cwis Buckwey, dutifully polishing his Mulatto Messiah’s fundament with tongue-brush.  There are some backbiting Grub Street dogs — mostly neo-conservatives, and what a joke that, as if men with City College Leninists for fathers could be trusted to love America — who’ve found that the MSM will dish out a horse’s hoof or two if they sharpen their tongues against McCain or Palin personally, over and above merely laving Obama’s backside.

One toad in particular has descended to the occasion: the fetid, cross-eyed finger-drummer David Brooks, now mildly infamous for his outpouring of calumny and trash on Sarah Palin (the adipose sweater called her a “cancer” in the Republican party at some dull Atlantic panel, where he inhaled big plates of the free lunch between betrayings).  On his NewsHour with Jim Lehrer segments, Brooks’ sweaty, seat-squirming twitchiness suggests a schizophrenic just barely keeping it together — or should we infer that the obviously well-fed Brooks has just fouled, or is about to, his small-clothes?  In Brooks’ case, one should perhaps feels pity since his daily bread, in the form of those disjoint, constipated columns he squeezes out for the New York Slimes, may very well depend on hailing the conquering Obamatard hero.

Still, just ’cause Judas may have actually needed those30 pieces of silver to make his condo payment, doesn’t mean I can’t despise him for it.  Unlike the man who betrayed Christ, however, we’ll probably wait in vain for the loathsome Brooks to develop enough decency to step outside and hang himself, and in any case if he were to “burst asunder in the midst, and all his bowels gushed out” the pile-up might block traffic on Columbus Avenue for hours.

David Brooks in his natural environment.

The perspiring amphibian Brooks and his knives in the back are, however, nothing new to the skeptical student of human nature.  Veterinarians report that there are tapeworms more loyal to the horse’s intestines, than Brooks to benefactors — but he’s just the latest and smallest worm in a long line of them.  Yes, Booger Dave is what the Roman historian Velleius Paterculus memorably called the late Republican consul Plancus, a morbo proditor — a “chronic traitor,” or possibly “a betrayer by reason of congenital defect.”  The whole history of the late Roman republic, in fact, is more than a little in my mind these days, with its glum tale of all those Romans, low and high, who betrayed family, rank and even nation to help install the rabble-rousing upstart Octavian in supreme power as Augustus Caesar — thinking they’d be thrown a bone in the new order.  Trying to do my bit to satirize and condemn the David Brooks and Cwis Buckweys, the chronic traitors of 2008, I can’t do better than quote the great historian Sir Ronald Syme on the end of the Roman republic:

Superfluous the effort either to arraign or to rehabilitate the robust careerists who helped to found the monarchy.  Like violence, guile and treachery prospered.  Q. Dellius, proverbial for agility, deserted every side at the right moment… Plancus could smile at the impotent envy of his detractors and the ignoble appellation of a chronic traitor — “morbo proditor.”  Fools or fanatics perished along with lost causes: the traitors and time-servers survived, earning the gratitude of the Roman people. (The Roman Revolution, 511-12)

Quite.  But now, lo and behold!  It seems that Booger Brooks, Cwis Buckwey, Mad Meg Noonan and Rod BeDreher may have sharpened their knives a moment too soon!  You can visit Real Clear Politics or Gallup or any of the other poll sites — or better yet, visit Drudge because his headlines get right to the point and aren’t varnished with pro-Obama frosting.  Or simply visit Gateway Pundit’s tasty, succinct summary of the new polling situation following McCain’s smackdown of Miss Priss in the last debate on Wednesday.  It seems that McCain/Palin is now buoying up big-time in the latest polling — and the opportunist Obama flatterers, who formerly got away with calling themselves conservatives, are left hoist on their own petard, their tiny, tiny generative parts flapping in the breeze.  And I for one can’t get enough of it!  More egg for their faces!

As Dick Morris and a few other stone-cold steel-trap analysts have been saying for days, Obama’s polling almost certainly peaked last week, and will probably continue to bleed a point or so every three days from now until the election, as all the dippy sheeple who liked the way it felt when the ObaMessiah tickled their ears — much like the idiot who kept hitting himself on the head with a hammer, because he liked how it felt when he stopped — gulp and get bug-eyed and feel the shakes of buyer’s remorse at the thought of actually, for real, putting this far-Left amateur in the White House.  And not a moment too soon.

Affirmative action = unqualified.

At 30 seconds into clip:

O: “Now Sen. McCain suggests that somehow, ya know, I’m green behind the ears, ’n’ I’s just spoutin’ off, ’n’ he’s somber and responsible…”

McC: “Thank you very much!”

Ipse dixit. Out of the mouths of babes in the woods. Obambi IS green, and wet behind the ears too. The One’s Freudian slip is forever showing in the debates, and he needs to launder it.

“Green behind the ears” eh? There’s no greater menace – and bore – than an educated fool.

Perhaps if Sen. Infanticide spent time listening to rural Americans instead of slandering our “clinging” to the First and Second Amendments, he’d pick up the lingo and not sound like an effete snob in class drag.  Which he is. Somebody crack an egg on the Marxist’s pointy head!

P.S.: You can over-pronounce “PAW-KEE-STUN” like a smeary-spectacled high school debater till you’re blue in the face (not green behind the ears) – the Pakistanis will still despise you for a weakling.