From Dennis Perrin's Blog: "Savage Moose"

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I'm beginning to like John McCain's avant garde move. Time will tell whether Sarah Palin is Spiro Agnew/Dan Quayle, or if she's simply William Miller, Barry Goldwater's 1964 running mate, who gave us his daughter Stephanie, the wacky, kooky lib radio host. I stopped listening to Miller's show months ago, but I'm certain that she, along with libloggers and their legion of dittoheads, is alternating mocking McCain's choice, and acting offended, given the august nature of the presidential sweepstakes.

It's the latter reaction that I find most amusing, and typical. Why, many liberals thunder, Palin's inexperience is an insult to our grand political institution! Should McCain be elected then die in office, this neophyte will be in charge! President Palin! Outrageous! Inexcusable! Irresponsible! Something like this could damage the presidency and the country! The horror!

If a President Palin would truly reduce our empire to a laughingstock and further blunt its effectiveness, then slap that bumpersticker on my Fusion. The MILF-In-Chief drags America down the fucking toilet, firing a Colt 6933 M4 Commando in the air, wearing her Miss Alaska Runner Up sash, her soft lips forming a crazed pageant smile. Hoo boy! Bet you didn't see that ending coming! I think McCain knows exactly what he's doing. The old gook killer pulls one last lunatic stunt before he becomes fertilizer. Only in America.

As much as I would enjoy seeing that, I seriously doubt that McCain/Palin will win. No, my friends, we will be saddled with competent imperialism, a smooth managerial form of mass murder and exploitation, as liberals applaud and salute the flag, finally free to show their superior patriotism. The cheers and tears at INVESCO Field as Obama promised more war was only the first stanza. Since then, at various liberal sites, numerous commenters rehearse their pro-war tunes, preparing to assume their role as Obama's obedient chorus. Eight years of bottled rage is pouring out, blood is in the air, and the Savage Mules file their teeth into enamel stilettos.

If nothing else, I get another book out of this. Happy times.