One of the most enchanting blogs on the intertubes is Margaret and Helen, a joint blog by two octogenarian women who have been friends for 60 years (one lives in Texas, the other in Maine). Grandson Matthew designed the blog; Margaret and Helen provide the content — well, Helen mostly. They're very witty (Below the fold, I've posted Helen's Thanksgiving rules from a recent post).
Anyway, Helen had a particularly pithy review of the first chapter of Palin's "Going Rogue" which is a fun read. An excerpt:
Margaret, I tried to come to this with an open mind. Really I did, sweetheart. I wanted to believe that there really was something of substance to someone who captured the imagination of millions. Even Barbara Walters has Sarah on her Top 10 list for the year. But it’s just not there, Margaret. Substance. She has none. Not even with a ghost writer. I mean how much respect can you have for a woman who describes the birth of her first son by writing, “Oh. My. Gosh. I thought I was going to die… Had any woman ever hurt this much? I didn’t think so.” Is it possible her ghost writer is a man?
But honestly, why am I so nasty about this woman? First I called her a bitch and now I am suggesting her knees are together about as often has Hillary Clinton appears in public with Bill. Look. There I go again sounding like a dime novel. But her entire attitude and approach to life – the sheer hypocrisy of it all – just really gets my goat. Consider the following excerpt from the book which refers to a State Trooper who pulled her over for an illegal joy ride on a snow machine:
“It was Christmas Day; we were out in the middle of nowhere, a couple of kids on a snowmachine up against a big dude with a gun and a badge. I couldn’t help but wondering about his priorities, if he really didn’t have more important things to do, like catching a bad guy, or helping a poor old lady haul in her firewood for the night. Looking back, maybe that was my first brush with the skewed priorities of government.” Page. 18
And that, dear Margaret, sums up my issue with Sarah Palin and so many others like her. They are so quick to look for the “bad guys” in everyone else never seeing the one staring back at them in the mirror each morning.
Here’s hoping Chapter Two has something worth writing about because I’ve only got a few years left on this earth and I hate that even a few hours are being wasted on this exercise in fertility. Pun intended. I mean it. Really.
Thanksgiving dinner will be moved to Friday after all of you have returned from your important tailgating party. And now that I have made that little sacrifice, I am sure you will all work extra hard to comply with a few rules.
- Cloe. I am begging you honey. None of that Jello crap. No one eats it and the garbage stinks for a week after I throw it out. You and Jello are like Palin and McCain. How many times before you learn no one wants seconds much less firsts.
- Jennifer. Your children are cute. We all can agree on that. Your husband’s video camera capturing every runny nose and bowel movement– not so much. Keep this up honey and you’ll have one posing for Playgirl before you know it. It’s just not natural to be that comfortable in front of a camera. Ten minutes of video when you first arrive and then the camera goes back into the camera bag.
- Trudy. If your brother and sister want to come, they can be on time like everyone else. If they are late again this year, they can eat what the dogs don’t finish.
- Rhonda. It’s my oven and once again I’ll be using it right up until mealtime. If you can’t bring something that doesn’t require heating, then don’t bring anything at all.
- Mary. Your kid’s dirty shoes and my clean sofa have never met. Let’s keep it that way.
- If you are a meat-eater, try a vegetable for your health. If you are a vegetarian, try the stuffing for the bacon. Either way, you’ll be cured of what ails you.
- If I see one grandchild doing that texting stuff, there will be no pie for dessert. If I see one parent checking email… scratch that – new rule. Leave your cell phone in your car. They used to be called mobile phones for a reason. Now-a-days the only thing mobile about your phone is your thumbs. Trust me. Skinny thumbs and a fat ass are not a good look.
- Jonathan. How a Republican ended up in this family is beyond me, but we love you all the same. That said, Reagan is dead darling. Get over it.
- I cooked the meal. Your grandfather paid for it. You can clean the kitchen and we’ll call it even.
- Honestly, if you insist on bringing anything, bring some butter. I go through about 20 sticks to get this meal on the table and I might as well start stocking up for Christmas now.
- Marshall. I am sure you believe that your children sing beautifully. Don’t put me in a situation where I have to make you question your beliefs.
- Grandpa Harold says if the Longhorns win, the bar is open. If they lose, the party is BYOB.