Palintology Part I: Curiosity Kills My Better Judgment

Installment 1 of a 3-part saga...

I am doing this so you won't have to.

This is the moral justification I arm myself with in anticipation of those moments when Sense and Reason demand to know why I am reading Going Rogue: An American Life, Sarah Palin's ghost-written attempt to forge a conservative reply to Obama's The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream. Neuroscientists posit that watching too much television renders our synapses inert, transforming tender brains from complex decision engines into passive receptacles for anti-cerebral garbage. Before I considered launching into this inarguably stupid project, I figured that Palin's five-chapter quasi-memoir-of-sorts would have the same stunting impact on its readers. Its mind-altering effects could prove doubly damaging to an ex-Republican like myself, much like a single shot of whiskey would send a reformed alcoholic tumbling off the right side of the wagon.

Yet something latent in my soul demands that I determine what, exactly, makes this woman tick. After three years at a liberal law school, I grow tired of choir-preaching. I have read and heard plenty to reinforce my own "worldview", to borrow from the ex-Governor's evangelical parlance. I have purposefully avoided gazing through the looking glass at what remains of the Western conservative realm from whence I came. It is stunting my growth. It is time that I make an effort to try and comprehend the teabaggers and insurrectionists who constantly insist upon being physically present in our fair city whenever Michelle Bachmann calls upon them. Consider this an exercise in socio-political exposure therapy. I want to re-discover what, exactly, makes the 2008 Republican nominee for Vice President tick, and, more to the point, what about her drove so many Americans who otherwise appear to be stable and balanced so bat-guano crazy. This is a journey into the whimsical world of Dittoheads and Beckophiles, of Birchers and birthers alike.

So, on behalf of my progressive readers, I embark on a missionary voyage into a savage heart of darkness that would have even given Marlow pause. And on behalf of my conservative readers, all of whom probably live nestled at the foot of the Sierra Nevada (and stopped reading two paragraphs ago), I lend you a moment of my consideration.

With some caveats.

First, I have not purchased (and will not purchase) this book. In fact, I haven't even flipped open a page or even perused the flyleaf yet. I won't buy it for two reasons. Reason Number One - I do not wish to contribute to what amounts to the Palin 2012 political action committee. Ms. Palin has deceived herself into believing that she is presidential material, and I firmly believe that any penny spent on this book could potentially be spent on a campaign ad demanding Obama's birth certificate. Reason Number Two - I do not wish to be subject to a Northwest D.C. "eye-shaming" by bookstore patrons who are decidedly to my left would rather buy ethanol directly from Hugo Chavez than be caught dead with Palin's book. Upon conducting a keyword search at a monitor somewhere near the Self-Help section at Borders, the computer cheerfully announced that it was likely in the store, but that I would have to "see an associate for assistance". A-ha. A witness protection program for conservatives. They are a persecuted minority in this neighborhood. I don't know how George Will survives here. Turns out, they took down the display and relegated the book to a small segment of the best-seller shelf.

Second, I am a bit weary that by reading Going Rogue, I am effectively legitimizing the growing apparatchik that follows in Ms. Palin's wake. Liberal readers, you may think that Sarah Palin is already among the large swath of those who are famous for no reason, and you would be partially right. This book review will only provide another (albeit small) platform for the woman who is credited for single-handedly defining democracy downward. Why more attention? I can also hear my conservative readers (Dad and maybe one or two others) scoffing at yet another attempt to persecute this poor woman.

I aim to do neither. The review will serve as neither a grandstand or a guillotine. I can't imagine making much of a dent in Palin's popularity one way or another, and, in either event, I will treat her fairly. In the spirit of full disclosure, I deeply dislike her. I think she is vapid, dense, and bad for America. She is also a human being, and while I giddily malign her inability to name a major newspaper, her faux populism, and her bridge to nowhere, I won't engage in the same personal potshots about her family life deployed by crass cultural snobs. I think it is disgusting, and a profound strategic mistake, to delight in Levi Johnston's accusations that Palin called her Down's Syndrome child a "retard". It is not necessary that we enlist his "help."

And now, I turn to acknowledge the Elephant in the room. I just can't ignore it anymore. Especially when it's wearing lipstick...