When I read about Sarah Palin’s response to the Tucson shootings this morning, I was at first infuriated. Then I realized that Sarah Palin was simply being Sarah Palin, doing what right wing media whores always do: twisting logic into a pretzel and playing the victim. Quelle suprise. The sun rises in the east. Dogs bark. The sky is blue.
I almost had to stifle a yawn after that.
And then while I was showering, an aspect of a nearly-forgotten personal philosophy came to me: Sarah Palin (and Beck and Limbaugh and the rest of the right wing noise machine) is nothing more than a jar of paprika in the kitchen. I’m busy making a sweet tasty pie (my life) and paprika is just something that’s not called for in this recipe. So while it may be physically present in the kitchen (the universe), there’s no need for it in my pie, and therefore no reason to focus on it, much less get angry at it.
When I realized that, I suddenly felt even better.