The breaking news about Sarah Palin has interrupted one of my most treasured 4th of July traditions, when I walk around my neighborhood sticking American flags in everyone’s yard unless they ask me not to, in which case I scream, COMMUNIST. In case you don’t live and die by your Twitter feed, Sarah Palin is resigning as the governor of the Great State of Alaska. (Obviously no one told her that Mark Sanford was the one who was supposed to be stepping down, not her, but it’s very nice of her to take one for the team.)

When I heard the news, I turned on CNN where she was speaking from her home in Wasilla, while Vladimir Putin watched from Russia. After listing all of her accomplishments, she announced she would be stepping down by the end of the month. Of course, the speculation is that she’s doing this to run in 2012. But what exactly does she intend to do between now and then? Go on a three-year listening tour? Hold weekly town hall meetings? Challenge President Obama to a marathon, as she mentioned in an interview with Runner’s World?

“I betcha I’d have more endurance,” she said. “What I lacked in physical strength or skill, I made up for in determination and endurance.” OK, scrappy. Let’s take it down a notch. (And, really, is it necessary to wear glasses even when doing yoga? I’m beginning to think her eyes are fake.)

This morning I received a breaking news alert from WashPost but since it had nothing to do with a certain South Carolina governor who may or may not be suffering from deformities of the lower leg, I deleted it and went back to sleep. Apparently it was something about “jobs” and how there “aren’t any.” The latest unemployment report released today shows a job loss of 467,000. I frantically called Evan and asked him if I still had a job. He responded, you’ve never had a job here, you just keep showing up. And I laughed and said, oh you kidder!, before realizing that I’ve never received a paycheck.

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, given the holiday weekend and all, but this is not good. The jobless rate is at a 26-year high (not that I can remember since I wasn’t even alive back then). Close to 15 million people are out of work. Luckily, the Republicans, when they’re not hiking for Argentinian tail, are all over this. Especially House Minority Leader John Boehner (pronounced “Cankle”), who released this Web video. Starring a bloodhound named Ellie May. Sniffing for jobs and snausages.

[via First Read]

The scourge of summer—Mark Sanford or “cankles”? Depends on who you ask. If you’re a woman with low self-esteem who allows herself to be victimized by the media, you’d go with cankles. If you’re a wife with low self-esteem who allows herself to be victimized by her governor husband, you’d go with Sanford.

While searching for more sex lines that Sanford may or may not have crossed, I came across this MSNBC headline: Capri pants bare scourge of summer: ‘cankles.’ I let out a groan of disgust, yelling to my colleagues, “WHO ELSE IS OFFENDED BY THIS?!” And then, in a smaller voice, “Do these jeans that hide every part of my legs make my ankles look fat?” To raise awareness about this latest scourge, Gold’s Gym has designated July “Cankle Awareness Month.” For those of you who aren’t familiar with this term, a “cankle” is derived from the words “calf” and “ankle” to describe a hideous deformity in which your calf essentially merges with your ankle. For those of you unfamiliar with Gold’s Gym, it’s a subpar workout facility for meatheads and silicone.

Now, if for some reason you’re not willing to starve yourself in the hopes that your ankles slim down, Gold’s offers some tips to hide those unsightly abominations. No skinny jeans. Wear cropped pants to emphasize the “thinnest” part of your fat ankle, or “fankle.” Avoid shoes with ankle straps. And, if you’re working out, be sure to wear “bright sneakers” to divert attention from your cankle fankles. I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you just CUT OFF YOUR ANKLES FATTIES? Are we really supposed to buy into this?

Ladies, the true scourge this summer is the leadership of South Carolina or lack thereof. While the calls for Sanford’s resignation have grown louder, attention is turning to André Bauer, the lieutenant governor (pictured below with Sanford). Apparently Bauer has his own issues, which include driving like a dick and dressing up like a choir boy.

In 2003, Bauer was charged with running two red lights in downtown Columbia. When he was pulled over, he was so aggressive that the officer had to PULL A GUN ON HIM. In 2006, a state trooper clocked him driving 101 mph on the highway. A few weeks after that, he crashed his single-engine airplane. These are not the actions of a stable man. And then, of course, there are the… gay rumors. How will that fit into Sanford’s all-important Christian family values?

In an interview, Bauer said, “Is André Bauer gay? That is now the story. One word, two letters. ‘No.’ Let’s go ahead and dispel that now.” So he’s not gay. But he does refer to himself in the third person. Jackass. An adviser said that the rumors are just that: “You see this very well orchestrated and coordinated attack coming from potential opponents in 2010 and the governor’s office aimed at him. André didn’t fly to Argentina. He didn’t misuse taxpayer’s money… André’s just there.”

So this is what it’s come to. The best man for the job is someone who’s “just there.” Just There 2010!

[via Shenanigans]

Yes, they’re back. They’re like the guests that never leave your house, even when you throw all their shit onto the lawn and scream OH MY GOD GET OUT. It’s the first day of the special session, and, according to First Reading, Rick Perry intends to “Get’em in, get’em out and get the work done. Badda bing, badda boom.” When did our governor turn into Tony Soprano? It’s no longer the Cloak Room, it’s the Bing. So why are they here? Purportedly to deal with a bunch of transportation stuff, like bonds and TxDOT and toll roads. But really because they can’t stand their families.

Well, we’ve got another South Carolina euphemism on our hands (that’s what she said). First, there was “hiking the Appalachian Trail.” (Or, if you prefer, hiking the Appalachian Tail.) Now, there’s “crossed lines.” As in, I never had sex with them; I did everything but. Oh COME ON Governor. Are you in HIGH SCHOOL?!

In an “emotional” interview with the AP today, Sanford said that he “crossed lines” with a handful of other women but never had sex with them. In fact, he said that he “never crossed the ultimate line” with anyone but Maria Belen Chapur. What does this mean? He pulled out of the race at the last minute? He came right up to the finish line but didn’t quite break the ribbon?

Sanford said that while Maria is his soul mate, he’s trying to fall back in love with his wife. Let’s just say that again. He’s TRYING to fall back in love with his wife. A valiant effort, one worthy of a true Southern Gentleman. Good luck with that. Plus I’m sure his wife will be happy to know that although Sanford “let his guard down” with some physical contact, he “didn’t cross the sex line.” According to the AP, he wouldn’t go into detail. Don’t leave us hanging! (That’s what he said.)

He met Maria in 2001 at an open-air dance spot in Punta Del Este, Uruguay. “There was some kind of connection from the very beginning,” Sanford said, insisting that neither that first meeting nor a coffee date at the RNC in 2004 were “romantic.” Since when is asking someone to screw you over cheap convention watered-down coffee not romantic?

The governor clarified that these casual encounters, which all took place OUTSIDE THE COUNTRY (crossing international lines), happened before he met Maria. Because while it’s perfectly acceptable, even encouraged, to cheat on your wife, it’s just poor form to cheat on your mistress. Sanford admitted that he crossed the ultimate sex line with Maria, in what he described as five “meetings” over the past year, including two romantic trysts in New York where he intended to break up with her. He was even accompanied once by his spiritual adviser for what was to be their farewell meeting, where they all went to church and had dinner. No word on whether the three crossed the ultimate line.

Todd Purdum profiles Sarah Palin (”It Came From Wasilla”) in the latest issue of Vanity Fair, which means I spent approximately 35 minutes of my morning reading and re-reading it online while taking copious notes. (When Evan stopped by, I told him I was reading our Ted Nugent cover story and gave him a thumbs up.)

Despite her disastrous performance in the 2008 election, Sarah Palin is still the sexiest brand in Republican politics, with a lucrative book contract for her story. But what Alaska’s charismatic governor wants the public to know about herself doesn’t always jibe with reality. As John McCain’s top campaign officials talk more candidly than ever before about the meltdown of his vice-presidential pick, the author tracks the signs—political and personal—that Palin was big trouble, and checks the forecast for her future.

If the list I published yesterday of top GOP presidential candidates is any indication, she’s got a pretty good shot. Assuming that Pawlenty, Huntsman, Barbour, Jindal, Crist, and Daniels all take a “hike” on the “Appalachian Trail.” And we all know what that means. Climbing Mount Mistress.

I read this story with some trepidation since Purdum is the same guy who did that hatchet job on Bill Clinton which upset me SO MUCH that I would’ve immediately canceled my subscription if I had one. But since he’s married to Dee Dee Myers, who I shared a deep connection with when I interviewed her, I suppose all is forgiven. I was hoping that Purdum would provide an answer to that burning question concerning the governor of the Great State of Alaska—is that her real hair or is she using extensions? Because it is fabulous. Instead, he asks this:

How could John McCain, one of the cagiest survivors in contemporary politics—with a fine appreciation of life’s injustices and absurdities, a love for the sweep of history, and an overdeveloped sense of his own integrity and honor—ever have picked a person whose utter shortage of qualification for her proposed job all but disqualified him for his?

Whoomp! There it is.

According to Purdum, former McCain aide Mark McKinnon was brought in as “Palin’s horse whisperer.” I don’t get it. Why would they need someone who could communicate with traumatized horses? McKinnon’s role was to help prep Palin for the VP debate against Joe Biden. Apparently his advice was to pretend you’re trying to pick up that dude at the end of the bar by acting somewhat drunk and winking excessively.

Let’s be honest. If Sarah Palin is the future of the Republican party, the Republican party has no future. If you don’t believe me (and really, why would you), go and read the article.

Only three people have commented on my post today and I’m not saying I’m hurt, I’m just saying I’m, like, SO OVER YOU it’s not even funny. Instead of crafting another blog post about my jukebox encounters in a wine bar, I leave you with my story about the heat (which is making me cranky, I apologize for snapping earlier, as in the previous sentence).

Sweater Weather

You may have noticed that it’s hot outside. If you’re like me, you’re wondering, “How did I end up in hell? I thought I was a semi-decent person.” When I walk outside in the morning, I feel like I may burst into flames. Before I get to my car I’m already sweating profusely and gasping for air, and once I get inside, I’m trapped in a virtual oven equipped with leather seats and a half-melted Dalí-esque steering wheel.

So I was at Max’s Wine Dive on Saturday night (doing research for my memoirs) when I decided to play some songs on the jukebox. Feeling nostalgic, and bemoaning the loss of my youth, I played a bunch of Michael Jackson, starting with “PYT” and ending with “Bad.” Immediately the bar became alive, and my fellow patrons sang along, got up and danced, while I sat there basking in the glory of being the Jukebox Hero. And then I started panicking when I realized that I had selected Huey Lewis for the finale. Before I had a chance to sneak out of the bar and finish my wine in the parking lot, it came on: I was walking (walking) down a one way street, Just a looking (looking) for someone to meet, One woman who was looking for a man… The crowd started booing and angrily turning over tables when someone screamed, WHO’S THE ASSHOLE THAT PUT THIS ON? I pointed to my husband and yelled, “He did!”

(This has nothing to do with anything—I just wanted to let you know what I did this weekend. I trust you all had nice weekends as well but please keep your stories to yourself so as not to bore the rest of the class. Now on to more important business.)

Burka already wrote about this because he blogs on Sundays to make me look bad. News flash: I can look bad on my own, thank you. According to NPR’s Ken Rudin, governors are the future of the Republican party, especially with respect to the 2012 race. His list includes 21 governors but for our purposes, I’ve listed the top ten.

1. Tim Pawlenty (MN)
2. Jon Huntsman (UT)
3. Haley Barbour (MS)
4. Bobby Jindal (LA)
5. Charlie Crist (FL)
6. Mitch Daniels (IN)
7. Sarah Palin (AK)
8. Rick Perry (TX)
9. Mark Sanford (SC)
10. Jodi Rell (CT)

Rick Perry is bolded for obvious reasons. He’s my favorite. Now for whatever reason, Perry always seems to pop up on these lists. I’m not sure how or why, except for the fact that they’re running out of candidates so they think, here’s a good looking guy, well groomed. Seems likable enough. Someone you’d want to grab a beer with. What could possibly go wrong? Of course, he falls in between Palin and Sanford, the meat of the Palin-Perry-Sanford sandwich, if you will. And if Mark Sanford is still in the top ten, who in God’s name is in the bottom ten? Well, funny you ask. Weighing in at number 15 is some guy named “Butch.” Somehow I don’t think a guy named Butch is going to make it. (To make matters worse, his last name is Otter.) Vote for Butch 2012!

Interestingly enough, Perry co-wrote an op-ed with Sanford for the Wall Street Journal last December concerning the bailout. “We can weather this storm if we commit to fiscal prudence and hold true to the values of individual freedom and responsibility that made our nation great.” Ah, yes. Individual freedom and responsibility in the form of a saucy minx down in Argentina.

For Perry, running for president would be the ultimate act of betrayal: betraying me, betraying you, betraying us. He’d be leaving all of us behind to go to the place he hates most in the world: Washington, D.C.

(more…)

So when Michael Jackson died yesterday, the first thing that came to mind was how much of a disturbing person he had become over the years. But as I got in my car to drive home, I turned on 105.9 as I often do—oh, like you really listen to All Things Considered—and they were playing all Michael Jackson. Beat It. Thriller. Billie Jean. PYT. Human Nature. Smooth Criminal. And I started feeling all nostalgic like, now that’s the Michael I remember. I mean, he was good. (Or should I say “Bad.” OMG!)

At book club last night, I challenged Smooch to a song-off (I won with “The Girl is Mine”). Our friend walked in and started playing along before turning to the TV and screaming OH MY GOD IS MICHAEL JACKSON DEAD?! We were supposed to discuss “The Alienist” but, since Smooch and I were the only ones who actually read it, we tried to draw comparisons between the murderer and Michael. They both came from abusive families. They both hated the way they looked. They both had an obsession with little boys. And they both were known for their moonwalking prowess. Our friends didn’t even try to act interested.

For me, I choose to remember the King of Pop. And not the unrecognizable person he became.

When I was a little girl (YES I KNOW YOU LOVE THESE STORIES FROM MY CHILDHOOD), my sisters and I made up a number of games to entertain ourselves, such as covering our heads with blankets and pretending we were nuns; playing in the creek behind our house and pretending our plane had crashed and we were suffering from various ailments; and—our favorite—playing Charlie’s Angels. My oldest sister had brown hair, so she got to be Kelly/Jaclyn Smith. My middle sister had blond hair, so she got to be Jill/Farrah Fawcett. It didn’t really matter what color my hair was because I was the youngest so I had to be Sabrina/Kate Jackson. I HATED being Sabrina. No one ever wanted to be Sabrina. She was totally lame and had the worst hair. When Farrah left the show, I put in my request to be Kris/Cheryl Ladd. But I was stuck with Sabrina. (And sometimes we made some poor neighborhood kid be Bosley, surely one of the most unattractive men in TV history.) Remember the replacements Tiffany and Julie? Awful. By that time, of course, we had moved on to other games such as Ignore Eileen. A special thanks to Drew Barrymore for ruining “Charlie’s Angels” forever.

However, there will never be a remake of Farrah Fawcett.

First, I’d like to make one thing clear. My oldest sister Maria is not the girlfriend of Gov. Mark Sanford. I called her last night at her home in Winter Park, Florida, and immediately started accusing her of having an affair, ruining our family, and not telling me about it first so I could break the story. She assured me that it wasn’t her—she was at Sea World with the kids. (I’m still trying to corroborate her story.)

Now some of you might think, why are you giving this so much attention? Politicians cheat on their wives all the time. (Just another reason why women should rule the world.) Fine. Here’s something that has nothing to do with the governor of South Carolina: a new poll shows Gov. Perry ahead of Kay Bailey Hutchison, 33 to 21. Burka has provided in-depth analysis. Mine is not so in-depth. Basically, here’s what the numbers mean—Texas voters hate both of them. There. Back to Sanford.

More emails between Maria and Sanford have been released by The State. Pure poetry. And, we get an inside look into what they do in their down time.

Sanford: I do not want to raise expectations, when I say I will send something insignificant I promise I will do as I say! It wont (sic) be worthy of bedside placement … was just going to find the movie The Holiday as we had spoken of it last Thursday. Its music was pleasant and made me think of you — its mood and the notion of a holiday (wrapped up in our case over two days) certainly fit as well.

Maria: I had lunch there in a restaurant on the beach with great seaview. I sat under a palm and ate a mixed green salad with grilled abacaxi (pineapple) and honey. in the afternoon I sunbathe and read on the beach. I ve started here “The age of turbulence” from Alan Greenspan which I highly recomend.

Sanford: I better stop now least this really sound like the Thornbirds — wherein I was always upset with Richard Chamberlain for not dropping his ambitions and running into Maggie’s arms.

Sanford: my head is saying how do we put the Genie back in the bottle because I sure don’t want to be encumbering you

Maria: I don’t want to put the genius (sic) back in the bottle because I truly believe in freedom.

Just finished watching Gov. Mark Sanford’s emotional press conference where he tearfully admitted to having an extramarital affair and crying his eyes out in Buenos Aires. [Insert gratuitous "Don't Cry For Me, Argentina" here.] Saying he met the yet to be identified woman eight years ago, “it sparked into something more than that” over the past year. It’s actually a cute story. It became “more than that” during an economic development trip the governor took a year ago to Argentina. And then he went on down to Buenos Aires to visit her this time. So at least we know Sanford had a breast to cry on.

“I have developed a relationship with what started as a dear dear friend from Argentina. It began very innocently as I expect many of these things do, just casual email back and forth,” Sanford said. “But here recently this last year developed into something much more.” Asked if he was separated from his wife, he said, “I don’t know how you want to define that. I’m here and she’s there. I guess in a formal sense we are not.”

I’d say that pretty much answers the question. Anyway, don’t feel too sorry for the wife. She knew about the affair five months ago. That gave her plenty of time to cut his bleep off.

OH MY GOD THIS IS SO NOT NORMAL.

Turns out that Gov. Mark Sanford was never hiking in Appalachia accompanied by a pair of defecating pigs. He was in Buenos Aires. In an interview with some newspaper in South Cackalacky, Sanford said that he decided at the last minute to go to South America, although he did consider hitting the Appalachian Trail. So that clears things up.

“But I said ‘no’ I wanted to do something exotic,” he said “It’s a great city.” Oh, please. If he wanted something “exotic,” he could’ve just gone to San Salvador. They’ve got great parasites there. Anyway, it seems like a poor choice of words. Makes me think that he traveled to Argentina to do the horizontal tango with hookers. However, the governor said that all he did was drive along the coastline. Yeah. With hookers.

I was reading an article in Politico late last night (because missing governors keep me up) which questioned whether this little incident could hurt Sanford’s chances in 2012. YOU THINK?

As a member of Congress in the 1990s, he slept in his office to save money. Political insiders recount tales of his walking around barefoot in meetings in the state Capitol and even doing sit-ups at odd times. During his State of the State speech in 2006, he lost his train of thought and admitted he was daydreaming about a fishing trip with a pal.

That’s just bizarre. Who does sit-ups?

Part of me finds the governor’s quirky behavior and eccentricities endearing. What’s this guy all about, I muse. Is he crazy, or just pretending to be crazy? Should we really expect our elected officials to be so different from us? I mean, I walk around the office barefoot all the time because I feel like this is my home away from home. Sometimes when I’m bored, I try to type with my toes. Although I don’t usually do sit-ups at random times, I have been known to lie on the floor in the conference room and sleep.

The Republican party is quickly running out of potential 2012 candidates, ever since Bobby Jindal acted like a Muppet on national TV; John Ensign screwed his campaign staffer; and Mark Sanford hiked naked with some defecating pigs in Appalachia. Sarah Palin? Last I heard she was in talks with Whitesnake (goin’ down the only road she’s ever known). I guess they still have some options: Tim Pawlenty, Jon Huntsman, Tony Danza. But who did GOP strategists sit down with last night? Mississippi Gov. Haley Barbour. /Who?

Over the next two days, Barbour, a former chairman of the RNC, will attend fundraisers in New Hampshire and Iowa. Well that doesn’t mean he’s RUNNING. He’s probably going in support of both states’ successful same-sex marriage initiatives. Of course, when asked about a run for the presidency, Barbour said, “Probably never.” Which means OH I SO AM.

[via The Fix]