Ticket to Ride

Dated June 4, 2008, the following text appeared on Realclearpolitics.com and was written by Jack Kelly. I don’t know anything about the site or the author, but since it is an opinion piece, that doesn’t really matter. One thing is for certain, the early timestamp of his article proves that he has his finger on the pulse of the Republican Party.

At 44, Sarah Louise Heath Palin is both the youngest and the first female governor in Alaska's relatively brief history as a state. She's also the most popular governor in America, with an approval rating that has bounced around 90 percent.

This is due partly to her personal qualities. When she was leading her underdog Wasilla high school basketball team to the state championship in 1982, her teammates called her "Sarah Barracuda" because of her fierce competitiveness. Two years later, when she won the "Miss Wasilla" beauty pageant, she was also voted "Miss Congeniality" by the other contestants.

Sarah Barracuda. Miss Congeniality. Fire and nice. A happily married mother of five who is still drop dead gorgeous. And smart to boot. But it's mostly because she's been a crackerjack governor, a strong fiscal conservative and a ferocious fighter of corruption, especially in her own party.

Ms. Palin touches other conservative bases, some of which Sen. McCain has been accused of rounding. Track, her eldest son, enlisted in the Army last Sept. 11. She's a lifetime member of the National Rifle Association who hunts, fishes and runs marathons. A regular churchgoer, she's staunchly pro-life.

Kimberley Strassel of the Wall Street Journal said Sen. McCain should run against a corrupt, do-nothing Congress, a la Harry Truman. If he should choose to do so, Gov. Palin would make an excellent partner "The landscape is littered with the bodies of those who have crossed Sarah," pollster Dave Dittman told the Weekly Standard's Fred Barnes.

Sen. Barack Obama's support has plunged recently among white women. Many Hillary Clinton supporters accuse him -- I think unfairly -- of being sexist. Having Sarah Palin on the ticket could help Sen. McCain appeal to these disgruntled Democrats.

This evening, as I waited on the subway platform, I pondered these things. I didn’t dig to deep because, in all honesty, I was more focused on just getting home. It had been a long day and there was a bowl of pasta waiting for me. The shallowness of my thoughts were apparent – even to me – when the best explanation I could come up with as the reason for what is passing for sound political judgment at the RNC was a pop culture reference. I think Republican bigwigs, and obviously right wing bloggers and politicos, look at the 2008 campaign as their version of "There is Something about Mary." I mean this woman, like Cameron Diaz was to normal male viewers of the Farrelly Brother's movie, sounds like a John Birch/PNAC/Right Winger’s wet dream:

She’s "drop dead gorgeous!" (Stroke…)
She slashes taxes for the rich! (Stroke…)
She’s a "lifetime member of the NRA!" (Yeah…)
She’s "staunchly pro-life!" (Um-Hmm…)
She kills animals with guns! (Uh-Huh…)
She’s a "regular churchgoer!" (Oh my sweet Jesus, YES!)
She’s in charge of oil! (That’s it baby, that’s the spot!)
And, (Here it comes…) she’s continuously knocked up! (BAM!)

The train pulled into the station.

The doors opened and I was surprised to find some vacant seats. Grabbing one, I pulled out my book and started to read. Within a few seconds I understood completely why the car was semi-vacant. An intense odor filled the air one, as a city dweller, I immediately recognized. Sniffing, I looked up and – yes – there he was. A homeless man was sitting across from me and it was obvious that he had not bathed or changed his cloths in months. Or, at least, that is my assumption from the stink because he actually looked to be reasonably well dressed.

For you non-city dwellers out there, or for the city people who have never experienced what I am talking about, every so often, in the subway car you board, there is a homeless man sleeping in a corner clad only in rags. He usually has whatever possessions he "owns" in plastic bags placed all around him or crammed into a little shopping wagon that he holds onto tight. Often he is shoeless. And he is certainly always alone because the aforementioned smell is overpowering and other commuters in the car go the other way. It always is a depressing and heartbreaking scene but, you become desensitized to misery living in an anonymous megalopolis.

I also notice that these kinds of encounters happen far more frequently when a Republican occupies the White House.

I should have been tipped off when the doors open and found a large swath of space when normally during rush hour time it would be filled with nameless faceless people. But, the situation I described above was not in effect. There was no society cast-off laying on seats or spread out in a corner. And the smell didn’t hit me till I sat down. This homeless man, who I was now sitting some six or ten feet away from, had clothes that were not that worn, shoes that had life left in them, no plastic bags and he was reading a newspaper. The situation was unusual but, I did what I always did when faced with this situation in the past, I continued to read.

My theory is simple. I can take the smell for my relatively short journey and, since everyone else runs for the hills, I have plenty of room. For the price of minor discomfort – especially when you compare it with THIS man’s station in life – I don’t have to have crotches in my face or someone up my ass for 30 minutes. It is a trade-off.

And, of course, a few others stay in the area too. I do not know if it is for the same reason that I do but, either way, we are going against a long held city tradition. And THAT is another reason why I stay. The sociologist in me watches the doors whenever the train pulls into the next stop. I watch the faces through the glass. There is an anticipation and excitement when they see the empty seats. There is a slight tenseness to some as they start to jockey for position to charge in, muscling anyone near them for the precious real estate. And then, as the tone sounds and the door opens, within seconds the faces of joy and lust becomes one of abject horror as they streamline to get out - either by walking between cars or just getting off all together. Sometimes their realization and reaction take a little longer and they awkwardly hover in the area, sniffing and looking around. Soon they, too, flee.

So McCain/Palin is in my head, comical trampling, stumbling and bumbling are in my eyes and a reek stank is in my nose. At the next stop, the doors open and a loud boisterous African-American woman walks through and within one second exclaims in a booming, exaggerated voice: "OH HELLLLLL NOOOOOOOOO!" and immediately walks through to the next car.

I feel ya, Sista. I feel ya.

Larry B