Mirror, Mirror

You know, I've been debating all week what to do with this little item -- whether I should make it the focus of some long-winded diatribe, do a general point-and-laugh, or maybe just put it out there as a kind of Moment of Zen, considering that it really is open to such a wide variety of comic/ironic interpretation.

The fact is, though, that I couldn't simply leave it alone -- if only because doing so would be undeniably conspicuous, given what you've come to expect from the material on this site.

So I'll just say this: Chances are by now you've heard that last weekend Sarah Palin spoke at a retail real estate convention in Las Vegas. Depending on whom you believe, she either brought down the house with her unmatched skills at giving a sloppy backseat blow-job to the entire notion of unimpeded Randian capitalism, or she plowed the conductor-less Palin Express right into a brick wall by doing what essentially amounted to her usual tightly-scripted "Palin in 2012" stump speech, and not much else. To be honest, it really doesn't matter one way or the other whether Palin scored a hit or a miss with the real estate crowd; the fact remains that the group wanted to hear from Palin -- who, mind you, generally gets six-figures to speak publicly -- to begin with.

What's also worth mentioning, by the way, is that among that crowd was my soon-to-be ex-wife, Jayne. She's the executive assistant to the CEO of the organization which hosted the event, and that means that she was at least tangentially associated with the Palin speaking engagement.

Do I find this kind of funny? Well, in the words of Palin herself: You betcha. Especially considering how much Jayne purports to loathe and stand in diametric political opposition to Palin.

So in the end, I guess I have to look at it this way: A self-described "small town girl," who through sheer luck and no tiny amount of well-disguised ambition managed to ascend to heights far beyond her humble upbringing; a woman who's little more than a compulsively lying opportunist whose amoral narcissism knows no bounds and who will go to any length to further her career and to afford herself the lifestyle she believes she deserves; someone who uses her looks and charm as a weapon and likely had an entire room full of old, wealthy white guys eating out of her hand with nothing more than a wink and a smile -- this person was the center of attention, and even though it probably ate her alive inside, out of decorum and propriety, Jayne couldn't say a thing. She had to remain completely silent.

I can't imagine what that felt like.