Take the now-infamous turkey episode.
(WARNING: If you are a wuss it’s mildly disgusting and might well be NSFW if you happen to work somewhere odd.)
It’s classic Palin: Over-acted in a way that makes William Shatner appear downright Oscar- and Grammy-worthy and the Checkers speech look like the Gettysburg Address, tone-deaf, and carefully pitched to push the buttons of the mainstream media and urbanites who don’t understand that, yes Virginia, the turkey on your Thanksgiving table got his f—ing head lopped off not more than a few weeks before, his feathers plucked after being dipped in scalding water and innards removed, before being packed in shrink wrap plastic on his way to your local mega mart, with the giblets neatly tucked in the now-empty body cavity.
Edit: All this was done to turkey quite possibly by illegal immigrants; almost certainly by people making very small wages and working in dangerous conditions, though the farm Sarah Palin visit was a traditional one and thus not giant agribusiness (so all the more reason for AM to dislike her).
This seems horrible for a large chunk of the population who doesn’t want to acknowledge the fact that, well, not to put too fine a point on it but Turkey Day involves the wholesale massacre of millions of turkeys… year after year after year, as long as there’s been Turkey Day. Literally wholesale, as in they are going to be sold wholesale and then, eventually, retail, to you, Joe Consumer, will buy one. Maybe even Joe the Plumber will buy one with the proceeds of his new book deal, if he’s not a ham type of guy or the sort to have shot Bambi for some tasty venison roast. You see, roast or fried turkey is turkey, not soylent green… which is people. If it was a tofurkey it would be soy, which you could eat on Lent and some would argue is much more green than meat consumption… but, to paraphrase Alton Brown, that’s another rant.
Having been near the wholesale massacre of livestock before, I can assure you that nobody, but nobody, with a functioning nose can miss the blood-tanged air—not to mention the giant trough of turkey blood easily visible in the background where Farmer McDoodle keeps looking around—and, as we all know, she knows how to dress a moose and would be acquainted with the scent. If not, you would know that at a turkey farm where you’re pardoning a turkey that the rest of the happy birds are going to be turned into dinner and what comes after. In other words, much like the machine gun bullets fired at Lech “Duck Son” Kachinsky and Mikael “Misha” Saakashvili , or Vladimir Putin’s most fortituous tiger shot, Paris Hilton and numerous other celeb sex tapes, or Andrew “Don’t Tase Me, Bro'” Meyer’s little stunt with John Kerry last year, this was probably one big setup. Why play the fool like this, you ask?
Well the MSM reacted pretty much like Pavlov’s dogs when the dinner bell rang. (In case you need an edumacashun.) And MSM baiting is to be expected, because she’s auditioning not for public office but for the really big bucks that only come from being, not to put too fine a point on it, part of the New York-dwelling MSM itself. You see, I suspect that Sarah Palin’s seemingly tone-deaf post-election media campaign is essentially a long audition to host that FOX News program when she’s had a “decent interval” from the election and it won’t look like she’s walked away from her obligations as Alaska gov. It’s not tone-deaf, it’s perfect-pitch dog whistle. FOXes are canines, too.
If she’s really lucky it’ll end up being the Sarah and Joe Show for ’10, but I doubt Joe’s fifteen minutes will make it over five… his web page is gone now, for instance, and I bet that book deal will be gone soon enough, too, because the belly of the beast digests first and Joe looks like he’s got some gristle to him—gristle enough to ask tough questions of a presidential candidate, for instance, and then compare said candidate to a member of the Rat Pack. He’ll be lucky to end up as a motivational speaker. But Sarah now… she’s schmoov like buttah, but she’s got to keep her name out there if she wants that much posher than Joe’s book deal not to end up in the remainders bin faster than Monica’s story or the rest of the digested mass left by the political-media complex.
And ’10 is a long way away….
So Happy Thanksgiving, dammit. Pass the lasagna. I’m tired of this turkey already.