Now that I’ve seen John McCain lose two debates to Barack Obama and Sarah Palin embarrass herself countless times on national television, I realize I’ve seen them both before.
In high school.
McCain, or someone very much like him, was my teacher in Wood Shop. He was forever talking about his service in WWII — “the big one” — and he showed us a German Luger he had taken off a dead body in the Battle of the Bulge.
He called us all “pissants” and told us we could never have made it in the Army. He talked a lot about safety with the various machines, but more than his words, it was the fact that he was missing two fingers that made us very careful.
Palin, or someone very much like her, was the first girl in our class to become sexually active. She was well developed by the sixth grade, playing all sorts of petting games in junior high and giving it up sometime in the fall of our freshman year.
The only problem was that once she’d spent time in the back seat of your car, she latched on like Glenn Close in “Fatal Attraction.”
I knew at least three guys who got their cars keyed and one whose dog died of a pretty suspicious poisoning.
Eventually she married some guy about 10 years older and wound up in a trailer park.
Yep, I know these people.
The last thing we need is them running our country.
