Several years ago I had a dream where I ran into Sarah Palin in the salad bar area at Kowalski's (a Twin Cities supermarket chain). I've forgotten many of the details; I only recall pushing her grocery cart aside, putting my hands on her shoulders, staring her in the eye and demanding, "What is wrong with you? Really, I'm serious--what the hell is your problem?" I don't remember what answer she gave me, or if she said anything at all.
I think I already knew the answer. It was clear then, it's crystal now: the woman is a gold-plated idiot. No complicated answer. No clinical diagnosis. That's really all there is to it. She's dumb as a bag of hammers.
I wish a wolf would shoot her from a helicopter. That would rule.
|Sic her, boy!|