I actually do find her rather engaging, despite disagreeing with her on key issues. Of course, I’m in another country, so that hardly matters.
But I’ve always wanted to coin a catchphrase, and I’ve decided Sarah Palin’s flag-wavin’, gun-totin’, choice-hatin’, God-fearin’ supporters deserve their own title. I’m suggesting “Palin-drones”. I’m sure you can assemble the definition in your own mind – something along the lines of the backwards thinking taking them forwards.
(I’m surprised the Democrats haven’t gone with “Biden Time” for their VP pick, although I can see how that could be used to twist Senator Joseph Biden into some sort of twisted, Richard III-style president-in-waiting. An Iago to Barack Obama's Othello, if you like. Hmmm. That's possibly inappropriately too appropriate.)
Moreover, I've been baffled by the choice of names she and her husband have given their brood – Track, Bristol, Willow, Piper and Trig. A Google search yielded this quote from Todd Palin, explaining their reasoning to People Magazine:
Sarah's parents were coaches and the whole family was involved in track and I was an athlete in high school, so with our first-born, I was, like, 'Track!' Bristol is named after Bristol Bay. That's where I grew up, that's where we commercial fish. Willow is a community there in Alaska. And then Piper, you know, there's just not too many Pipers out there and it's a cool name. And Trig is a Norse name for "strength."
Now I have no immediate plans to bear five children (or four and a grandchild, if you believe the conspiracy rumours). But I am interested to know what my own lil' bundles o' joy would be named if I were to follow this exact template.
First would be something I excelled in at high school. So break out the blue balloons for my eldest son DEBATING, because I was captain of that at St Paul’s. Next is ALBANY CREEK, because it’s where I grew up. Although you wouldn’t want to eat the fish out of the Pine River behind our place – not since they dammed Cash’s Crossing anyway. Ick.
Third is a community in Alaska. I found a map of Alaskan communities, and waggled my mouse over it until a friend said stop. It landed on YUKON-KOYUKUK, which adds a charming dash of Innuit to my little Aussie battler’s moniker. The requirements for kiddie number four’s name is that it be cool, and uncommon. I’m going to go with DINOSAUR.
Finally, bub the fifth. I went to this online translator, and plugged the word “strength” into the English to Norwegian translator. I chose Norwegian as it’s Scandanavian, and has “Nor” in it, which I figure is close enough to Norse.
The response is the name for my last little one: NO MATCHES FOUND.
Did you read that? According to the internet, Norwegians don’t have a word for strength.
I have no idea how they power those bobsleds at the Winter Olympics.
But anyway. That’s my little family, my very own Palin-drones. I look forward to birthing them in screaming agony, and naming them amidst the mocking laughter of my learned fellows.