Ammo Grrrll is here to help with your self-assessment: ARE YOU FROM THE RIGHT CLASS?
More than 8 years ago – what seems like a lifetime ago now – when Sarah Palin was chosen to fill the vice presidential slot on the GOP ticket, I was astonished and appalled to discover how many snotty people had a visceral personal hatred of her, mostly irrespective of her politics. Including many many people who should have known better.
I was delighted by her speech at the convention. She was – hands down – the best speaker of the four candidates in 2008, including Mr. Creased-Pants Reader of Gibberish off the Teleprompter Himself. But she was a happy, beautiful, married woman, a breeder, a Christian who refused to kill her special needs baby, a strong supporter of Israel, a hunter and basketball player. She didn’t even own the proper clothes to run for office. In short, she was not at all from the right clique, so she had to be destroyed. The vicious campaign to belittle and destroy her was like watching a nature show with a whole drooling pack of ugly hyenas stalking a defenseless gazelle. It made me sick.
Two core beliefs in America are that all honest work is noble and that we are all “middle-class.” But what I took from the Palin experience – and its terrible aftermath of consequences for the country – was that there is an elite class of people who went to the right schools (hint: none are in Idaho), and married the right people (not part Native American fisherman, certainly!) and live in the right zip codes. They hold many of their fellow Americans in utter contempt. I looked at these people and paraphrasing a bit of Sally Field at the Oscars, realized, “You hate us; you really, really hate us.” You probably can hardly tell that I’m still angry.
My therapy – when I can’t get to the range – is humor. So, here’s a little quiz to determine what rung you might occupy in the caste system. Are you a donor-class celebrity, a pathetic loser-person who pays taxes, works hard, is proud of your kids’ military service, or someone Hillary’s virtual husband (Future First Horndog) fancies, who Hillary has called “trailer trash”? (I mean no disrespect to any class except the donor-class celebrities, 99 percent of whom are not nearly as smart as they think they are. Every single commenter on Power Line is smarter than all but a handful of Congress critters and left-wing celebrities.)
We are painting with a broad brush here, as humor will. No animals were harmed in the making of this quiz, which also contains no gluten.
My name: a) Appears on clothing the “little” people buy. b) Is sewn into my underwear from college many, many years ago, or, c) Has been changed to protect the innocent.
My thighs: a) Do not touch. b) Would have been eyed hungrily by the Donner Party.
The last film I appeared in: a) I got top billing. b) Was in 8 mm of me, Harold, and our six kids at Disney World, or, c) Was around the bathtub.
My home: a) Is on a private island of underage slave girls, accessed by a private plane called The Lolita. It was visited by the pretend husband of a Presidential shoo-in. b) Is all on one level because of bad knees, or, c) Has to be staked down in strong winds.
To relax, I get into my: a) Hot tub which seats 18 comfortably. b) Old flannel nightie with a good mystery, or, c) Jack Daniels.
I think guns are: a) Icky, and should be banned like in Australia, except for those carried by my private bodyguards. b) A right bestowed upon me by our Founding Fathers, or, c) Necessary to provide dinner.
My dresses: a) Each cost more than a 3-bedroom home in 1955. b) Sometimes don’t zip all the way up, or c) Cost less than arugula. Whatever that is.
My teeth are: a) Capped, b) Used to open child-proof caps, or c) Not as numerous as my tattoos.
My weight: a) Is lower than my body temperature. b) Fluctuates more than the stock market, or, c) Is appropriate for a 7’8” man.
Whenever I put on a couple of extra pounds, I: a) Jet off to the Golden Door Spa for two weeks. b) Go the the “Y” to work out for two hours, or, c) Have only one scoop of ice cream with my pie for two days.
My car is: a) In a temperature-controlled warehouse with more than 100 luxury vehicles. b) A sensible mid-size sedan. c) A truck.
I was educated at: a) Elite Ivy League schools. My applications and grades are buried with Jimmy Hoffa. b) State schools, or community college, or, c) My Dad’s auto-body shop. Can YOU replace a transmission, PoliSci Boy?