The funniest thing about Camille Paglia singing “My Creepy Valentine” to Sarah Palin again, is Camille’s insistence that it was the evil Democrats who hunted poor Palin like a wolf from a helicopter (individual hunters are more respectful of the environment than the food industry, and they aid in conservation efforts when species overpopulation is a problem – but wolves from helicopters? The hell?).
Didn’t Paglia get the memo? The people out for Palin’s blood, the ones publishing weird stories about her, even suggesting that she all but came on to several campaign staff-members – are bitter Republicans.
Democrats don’t pretend to like Palin (and guess what? They don’t have to), but it was the Republicans who wanted a sweet, submissive little VP, then started snarling when things didn’t go as planned.
Of course, Paglia doesn’t have the balls to say it. It’s better to examine the sweater that Bill Ayers’ wife wore, like, 30 years ago (I shit you not).
My favourite of Paglia’s lines about Palin must be the following gem:
There is a powerful clarity of consciousness in her eyes.
Oh, you mean, like, she’s AWAKE? That’s cool, I guess. You never know when the GOP may slip a coma patient past us during an election cycle. Better take what you can get, I suppose.
I also found it interesting that for all of the hand-wringing on Palin, Paglia kept her mouth firmly shut on the slurs against Obama, on the fact that “Arab” was used as an insult against him, on Colin Powell’s stance concerning the sleazy tactics, or on the fact that Palin never gave a press conference – greatly contributing to the media’s animosity towards her, and rightly so. Doesn’t mean you have to give the Obama presidency a blank check, but addressing some of the virulent hatred that Palin’s own supporters have spewed at him would have been honest, at the very least.
I hate to even admit this, because you will laugh at me… But I expected something from her on that account. I don’t for one second believe that it was space constraints that allowed her to stay stilent. She’s blathered on for twice as long before.
But then again, Paglia’s always been about as honest as a rich kid in distressed jeans and a Che Guevara shirt. Or, as one reader pointed out:
This lovefest that Ms. Paglia has with Palin smacks of the “sincerity” of rich, white-collar kids who like to wear trucker’s caps
We’ve already written Ralph Nader off as irrelevant. Can we go ahead and do the same with “the only appreciator of the masculine life-force”?
I don’t need a rape-apologist and slut-shamer and virulent self-promoter and dismissive caricaturist of “the Third World” (where even “traditional” societies need safe and legal access to abortion. It’s called a freaking public health concern) and vicious über-troll lecturing me on the “future of feminism.”
Could it be that the only real purpose of Paglia’s career nowadays is to get people like me going?