Sarah's Big Night (Prelude)

There's been a lot of denouement in the air lately. The climactic event for both our economy and the election has in all likelihood passed, and all we can do at this point is try to enjoy the wrap up, right?

Oh, but don't be a fool, you say. It's never over till it's over. Don't count out an October Surprise: Osama getting it right between the eyes on Halloween, an Israeli raid on an Iranian nuclear facility, an announcement—what the hell!—that we're declaring war on Russia ... 

Okay, so I won't count out any of these possibilities. Nonetheless, please let me know if you know of anyone still willing to bet me a $100 that McCain and Palin—the latter having been recently blessed and Protected From Witches by a visiting Kenyan minister (not Obama's long lost father, it turns out, though wouldn't it be wild if it was?)—will win in November. I'd appreciate it. Times being what they are, it would be nice to make some easy money ahead of the holidays.

A few more foolish predictions: 

The unemployment numbers tomorrow will rise even further above the 6% level that, prior to Bill Clinton's presidency, was considered full employment, the lowest figure that wouldn't stir inflation. Look, also, for the House of Reps to pass, if not by any great margin, the legislation that McCain, Obama, and Biden all voted for last night, that will, notably, raise our FDIC protection from 100K to 250K and allow our government to spend up to $700 billion to dissolve the clots in the bloodstream of our credit markets essentially by buying the clots, which they hope to sell later on, perhaps at a profit, when people are once more willing and able to buy anything.

And look for the debate tonight to be a largely disappointing affair. For Ms. Palin's emphatic nonsense to go mostly unchallenged by Biden, who, given recent poll numbers, doesn't have to do anything but smile and nod. Look for Joe not to indulge his prolix proclivities but to play it safe, stay on point, look statesmanlike, to get Sarah blithering, if he must (if she really needs encouragement), by lamenting the strange flawed judgment of his old friend, the one he remembers getting screwed so badly back in 2000 by the same people his old friend has hired this time for his campaign. What a shame.

Joe could just stand there and listen to Sarah go on, smiling, nodding, as you would were you cornered by a crazy person. 

On the other hand, something really weird could happen. As in Sarah could say something and Joe could stare at her, incredulous, confused, look at Gwen Ifill, the moderator, and say:

"Gwen, I really don't know how to respond to that. In fact, I can't tell you for certain what it was she just said. Is this what they talk about when they talk about speaking in tongues? Because I'm Catholic. We don't do that sort of thing where I go to church ... "

And then, seeing her big opening, Sarah says, "Yeah, well, aren't you just so smart. Mr. Elitist from Wash-ing-ton ... We'll just see who's laughing in a few years—when The Rapture Comes—and I'm lying pretty between Todd and Jesus in a brand new triple-wide tanning bed, not some second hand one like the one we have here on earth, at the Governor's Mansion, while you're ... all you Papists and heathens and black female journalists for PBS are, you know ... "

Gwen Ifill, seeing Ms. Palin's difficulty finding the right words, interjects, "Writhing? Gnashing our teeth?"

"Writhing! Yes! Exactly! Gnashing teeth. All that. It'll be like—"

"The Iliad!" someone from the audience yells. "Blood Meridian!" yells another. Sarah looks out at the audience and winks. 

"The paintings of Hieronymus Bosch," Joe, Mr. Smarty-Pants Elitist, Biden offers, but Sarah only scoffs at him. She lives in Alaska. Which, she points out, might as well be a painting, a really beautiful painting with bears and trees and mountains and snow, and snow machines, and moose. Anyway, looking out her window is like looking at that painting, except for when she sees Russia, Putin flying over, but isn't there always something, some Elitist from Washington, there to spoil things ...

But then, while Sarah is carrying on, Gwen Ifill has her own suggestion for the simile Sarah Palin is looking for. "A young soldier whose legs have just been blown off by an IED," she says. 

Thus revealing her liberal bias. 

But Sarah, thinking Reporters!, sees a better opportunity. "Exactly!" she exclaims. "Which is why ... which is why ... we can settle for nothing less than complete and total victory in Iraq!"

Joe looks at Gwen. "Iraq? Is that what she was talking about? What happened to The Rapture? I thought we were talking about The Rapture, speaking in tongues—"

But Gwen is just relieved her little outburst of bias has been, for now, overlooked.

"You just wait," Sarah turns and says to Joe now. "You're gonna be in the Nasty Place and I'll be in the Nice Place, looking down at you, going nah nee nah nee nah nah ... "

Joe, caught off guard by her taunt, unable to help himself, turns up his eyes and guffaws.

Gwen, too, wants to turn up her eyes and laugh—she want to give that sister the what for, but good—but can't, since she's the moderator. Also, she doesn't want to come off as Al Gore did back in 2000—as being condescending. 

Like Joe Biden just now.

"What?" says Joe, having yet to realize his mistake.

The audience is stunned. Sarah winks. The lights go down. 

Pull curtain.

Wouldn't that be exciting. The October Surprise, on the 2nd of October ...

Stay tuned. And go Cubbies!