They Couldn’t Resist the Bait
The quote of the day comes from David Von Drehle of Time magazine.
Palin put the experience issue front and center, because suddenly America was seriously weighing the relative qualifications of the Democratic nominee versus the recent mayor of Wasilla. That’s a comparison Obama loses simply by being involved in it.
I’ve been saying that for days. Even if the general public concludes that Barack Obama is more qualified than Palin, Obama still loses. This is not a discussion that the top of the Democratic ticket needs to be engaged in. At the end of the day, the undecided voter is going to choose between McCain and Obama. A conversation about experience does not benefit Obama at all.
William, who gets most of his news from leftwing hate websites, wrote a post about Palin’s associations. The GOP keeps dropping the bait and the libs keep on biting. Wouldn’t you love to have a conversation about the candidate’s preachers, religion, and associations? Gosh I would and so would the GOP. They knew about all of this stuff. But they put her on the ticket anyway, just daring the left to bring this stuff up. Heh! I have followed politics for most of my life, and I can’t recall a campaign so cunning.
When it flames out, completely, can we safely call you a political moron?
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How about we call you a political jackass?
How about we call you a political jackass?
That’s fine.
I’m ready to put down hard currency on my political prognostications. You could have had easy money on that Hillary thang. The politics of fear have you in a grip, Glen — you’re afraid that you are wrong, and hence, won’t take the risk of putting even a beer on the results.
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They knew about all of this stuff. But they put her on the ticket anyway,
heh… just like WMD
Sarah Palin reminds me of someone… I just can’t quite finger it out…
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A beer? How about a tall glass?
A beer? How about a tall glass?
Hey, between you and me, it’s just a scorecard. I propose a badge on the loser’s website, until control of the Oval Office changes, again. And a tall beer. Or two. Whatever.
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Or three, who knows?
Or three, who knows?
I’m a little more careful, at my advanced age (and two-wheeled motivation), so two is likely my limit. Two tall ones, anyway.
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