Evidently, as Jonah Goldberg points out, there are a few people with a sense of humour who comment on Slate:
Slate magazine is just one of the countless media outlets convulsing with St. Vitus’ Dance over that demonic succubus Sarah Palin. In its reader forum, The Fray, one supposed Palinophobe took dead aim at the former Alaska governor’s writing chops, excerpting the following sentence from her book:
“The apartment was small, with slanting floors and irregular heat and a buzzer downstairs that didn’t work, so that visitors had to call ahead from a pay phone at the corner gas station, where a black Doberman the size of a wolf paced through the night in vigilant patrol, its jaws clamped around an empty beer bottle.”
Other readers pounced like wolf-sized Dobermans on an intruder. One guffawed, “That sentence by Sarah Palin could be entered into the annual Bulwer-Lytton bad writing contest. It could have a chance at winning a (sic) honorable mention, at any rate.”
But soon, the original contributor confessed: “I probably should have mentioned that the sentence quoted above was not written by Sarah Palin. It’s taken from the first paragraph of ‘Dreams From My Father,’ written by Barack Obama.”
The ruse should have been allowed to fester longer, but the point was made nonetheless: Some people hate Palin first and ask questions later.
And since William Ayers ghost-wrote Dreams From My Father, that only makes things sillier.
But the reason why people hate Sarah Palin is rather simple, if it has eluded most of the pundit world: she poses an existential threat to those who currently have the upper hand in this country. If people who come from her kind of background and have her kind of education and style of mind (and that includes her religion) can end up at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, then those who believe themselves to be élites are toast. It’s that simple. And they know it. Hence the 11 reporters sent to “fact check” her book.
People will go on at length about whether she’s “presidential material” or “good for the country.” But, as polarised as we are, who knows what’s good for the country at large any more? What’s good for the country depends on what part of the country you’re in, how you make your livelihood, and (to use a Marxist concept) whose surplus value you’re exploiting, if anyone’s. It’s even to the point where some people would be ahead if it came apart. (I think that’s where George Soros, the president’s darling, is at.) How can you define a national interest under these circumstances? Do we really have a “government by the people, of the people, and for the people?” Or one which is the expression of whatever collection of interests that happens to be in power at the moment?
Like the Anglican Communion, we have become like “revolution and Russia:”
“For a long time, only two real forces have existed in Europe–Revolution and Russia,” the poet-diplomat Fëodr Tiutchev had written then. “No treaties are possible between them. The existence of one means the death of the other.” (R. Bruce Lincoln, Passage Through Armageddon)
Those who hate Sarah Palin understand this dichotomy has been transported and transformed to these shores. If her fans ever figure this out, we’ll really have a mess on our hands.