Sarah Palin Gets Booed

By DAVID WEIGEL 11/20/09 10:50 AM

It’s the dark side of the media sensation book tour: the disappointed fans who, in the age of YouTube and blog comments, have louder voices than ever. Liberal blogger Kevin K. at Rumproast has video and angry comments from Sarah Palin fans. One angry comment:

Went to the book signing in Noblesville, IN. Waited three hours in the cold to get a wristband to reserve my spot at the book signing tonight. We were told she would sign book for the first 1000 people. Not so. The event ended promptly at 9:00pm, though there were still at least 150 people left. Wasted my day, wasted money on a babysitter, and wasted my money on this book.

The video (after the jump) of the scene in Noblesville is even worse. “You want somebody who’s gonna be quittin’ on the job?” yells one heckler. “Right there! Quittin’ on the job.”

Tony Hicks: Sarah Palin, why have you forsaken us?

By Tony Hicks
Contra Costa Times
Posted: 11/06/2009 01:00:00 AM PST
Updated: 11/06/2009 07:14:15 AM PST


Sarah Palin is going on a three-week tour this month, promoting her new book "Going Rogue."
Sadly, she's skipping us namby-pamby, latte-slurping, plastic-bag-recycling, no-declawing-our-cats, liberal fruit bats here in California. Which, when you think about it, isn't very rogue at all.

No stops are planned in such big population areas as Seattle and Philadelphia either, where voters tend to be Democrats. Unless her book sales depend on voter registration percentages, that just doesn't compute, since there's easily more conservatives who would buy her book two at a time in the Bay Area and Los Angeles than places like Grand Rapids, Mich.

Never mind for a second that, a bit more than a year ago, this lovely woman from the great state of Alaska (it is, really, I've been there — try the salmon) aspired to represent and serve us all as vice president, and will likely try to do so again as a presidential candidate. If she wants to spread the Grand Old Party's word in a book, wouldn't it make sense not to worry about preaching to the conservative choir in Noblesville, Ind.; Washington, Pa.; and Rochester, N.Y. and go after some of us plant-kissers?

Palin can't be that worried about not being liked. Not if she's going on that commie Oprah Winfrey's show Nov. 16.

We need to build a case for Palin to come and see us in California, where we have a lot of respect for hot grandmas. There are a couple ways to do this. Either we convince her "Going Rogue" could be a morbid curiosity among some Democrats who secretly yearn to learn how to gut a moose. Or we make her feel welcome by demonstrating there are more than enough conservatives here to make the trip worthwhile (apparently no one from HarperCollins has ever been to Danville).

As a fan of airing various viewpoints (i.e., democracy), I prefer the latter. Let's make Sarah Palin feel welcome by reminding her that, according to last year's election, California doesn't like gay marriage either.

Let's remind her we have a Republican governor who used to kill people in movies. And a lot of these people, suspiciously, looked like Middle Eastern terrorists.

Speaking of Republican governors and quality filmmaking, doesn't she realize California has a Ronald Reagan library?

Like Alaska, we have oil wells in Southern California. And we can decimate a salmon population with the best of 'em.

Her tour stops at Fort Bragg in North Carolina. If that's her demographic, we have 27 military bases in California, including six in and around San Diego, which is really nice this time of year. They have a great zoo and a 1,800-acre park full of wild animals where, maybe if she asks nicely, they'd let her shoot a few.

She's going to Michigan, where she and running mate John McCain lost to President Obama last year. Among the reasons her book rep Tina Andreadis gave for going to Grand Rapids was that "Barnes & Noble has a great store there."

What, we don't have great Barnes & Nobles in California? We have one in Pleasant Hill that's so big I lost one of my kids there in July and I still haven't found her.

We even have our own bridge to nowhere that, like Palin and her bridge, some Californians were in favor of it before they were against it. We call it the new Bay Bridge which, when stuff stops falling off it, should be complete around the time we all have hovercars to get across the Bay.

California is big enough, and diverse enough, to welcome Sarah Palin with open wallets "... if she'd only be rogue enough to give us a chance.

Reach Tony Hicks at thicks@bayareanewsgroup.com.
Read his blog, "Insert Foot," at www.ibabuzz.com/insertfoot.

Sarah Palin's Brutal Education

CBSNews.com Exclusive: An Excerpt from "Sarah From Alaska" -- a New Book Telling the Inside Story of Palin's Campaign for VP

(CBS) In "Sarah From Alaska," Scott Conroy and Shushannah Walshe draw on their experiences as embedded campaign reporters, the many weeks they spent reporting in Alaska during Palin's last days as governor, and exclusive interviews with almost 200 former McCain/Palin staffers, top political minds, friends, and foes in Alaska to tell the remarkable behind-the-scenes story of Palin's political career and the events leading to her surprising resignation.

The authors share new insights and bring to light illuminating stories from Palin's governorship and vice presidential campaign. Read the excerpt below, which includes a prescient remark that Palin made to senior campaign aides after her debate with Joe Biden and revealing emails that demonstrate how she worked behind the scenes to try to convince the campaign's top strategists not to give up on winning the state of Michigan, much to their annoyance.

Scott Conroy is a digital journalist for CBS News, and Shushannah Walshe was formerly a reporter and producer with Fox News. "Sarah From Alaska: The Sudden Rise and Brutal Education of a New Conservative Superstar" is available now in bookstores.

THE OVERPOWERING SMELL OF cheeseburgers and French fries saturated the candidate's suite at the Philadelphia Westin Hotel. About a dozen staffers shuffled around the table set up in the middle of the room where hundreds upon hundreds of five-by-seven-inch note cards were spread out in two-foot-high stacks. Palin had been locked in there for hours, cramming for her debate against Joe Biden. The biggest test of the campaign was less than a week away.

On the heels of the first round of Katie Couric interviews, her margin for error was nonexistent. Joe Lieberman, a veteran of a previous vice presidential debate, had been brought in to give Palin an idea of what to expect. The stifling air shortened everyone's patience, and tensions were running especially high between debate prep coordinator Mark Wallace and foreign policy adviser Randy Scheunemann. It was the note cards that had first led to the longstanding feud between Wallace and Scheunemann a couple of weeks earlier. One of the aides wanted Palin to memorize them, while the other thought it better for her to learn conceptually. The spat made it all the way up the chain to Steve Schmidt, who told Scheunemann in no uncertain terms that he did not have the time for bickering between staffers and that they needed to sort it out. But the two men were still fuming at one another, and negative vibes permeated the room along with the smell of greasy food.

At the end of one cram session, Palin asked her advisers to run through the various trade agreements, including "who's in NAFTA, who's in CAFTA," and so forth. It seemed an unremarkable request at the time. The advisers knew that the governor was, in fact, aware that the NAFTA treaty included the United States, Canada, and Mexico. But someone in the room with a penchant for whispering to reporters was taking mental notes. Come November, the anonymous source would pass Palin's words along as part of a concerted effort to advance the exaggerated narrative that her handlers had been stymied in their heroic, yet futile, efforts to educate an ignoramus.

Steve Schmidt, Rick Davis, and domestic policy adviser Becky Tallent arrived in Philadelphia by train on Sunday, September 28. It was clear by the time they set foot in the suffocating hotel suite on the third full day of debate prep that a dramatic change was needed. Schmidt and Davis had already spoken to John McCain, who agreed to offer up his sprawling Sedona ranch. It did not take much persuasion to convince Palin of the benefits of moving the operation to the desert compound, where she could work in her shorts and T-shirt with her family by her side. Schmidt realized that the candidate would benefit from having a more condensed circle of aides to brief her, so he sent some of the staffers who had been with her in Philadelphia ahead to the debate site at St. Louis. Others who did travel to Sedona were barred from McCain's compound and had to remain at the hotel.

Palin and her downsized contingent of advisers arrived in Arizona the next afternoon. On the first evening of their stay, one of her aides spoke privately to the governor about the importance of speaking in her own voice, rather than regurgitating talking points handed down from the Washington insiders who ran the campaign, all of whom were white males. It was one piece of advice that Palin took to heart.

The preparations were kept informal except for two timed reenactments in which debate conditions were replicated, including the exact distance between the podiums. Randy Scheunemann had flown in to play Joe Biden, an acting role that the archconservative seemed born to play. Scheunemann had sat through years of Biden's speeches during his time working for two Republicans on the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, and he knew the Delaware senator's mannerisms well. Palin struggled to keep a straight face as Scheunemann peppered his performance with "God love ya"s and "literally"s and shifted between long-winded discourses on everything from the war in Iraq to his own mother. A former National Rifle Association lobbyist, Scheunemann as Biden delivered a passionate screed on banning assault rifles. When he waxed poetic on the issue of gay marriage, some of the aides looking on from the sidelines gave up on trying to maintain decorum and burst out laughing. At the end of the ninety-minute session, they broke out into spontaneous applause. Palin's keen memory for detail had manifested itself in her very first formal rehearsal, and she had done even better than they had hoped she would.

The next day, the group decided to move the debate operation outdoors so that they could take full advantage of the beautiful Sedona weather. The new environment continued to have a calming effect on Palin and everyone around her. Gone were the endless stacks of note cards and claustrophobic atmosphere that plagued the operation in Philadelphia. Palin looked refreshed as she stood behind her podium in a baseball cap and T-shirt. As evening shadows crept across the well-manicured grass, Cindy McCain came out from the house to address the group. She insisted that all toil must end at an appointed hour of 5 P.M., when everyone was to convene for wine and cheese. There were no arguments.

When Palin nailed a second ninety-minute mock debate, everyone was optimistic about the real thing, which was coming up the next day. By the time she and her aides left the ranch for St. Louis, their confidence was high enough that the hottest topic under discussion was whether the governor should wear blue or black. In the end, she went with black. The background, after all, would be blue.

Just minutes before the candidates shook hands on stage in St. Louis, Palin collected her thoughts in a room as she was joined by three top McCain advisers and her longtime Alaska aide Kris Perry. "Be still in the presence of the Lord!" Perry called out, as Palin bowed her head and prayed.

Palin would give her own version of this event several months later in a speech at a Republican Party dinner in Alaska. "So, I'm looking around for somebody to pray with. I just need maybe a little help, maybe a little extra," she said. "And the McCain campaign, love 'em, you know-there are a lot of people around me, but nobody I could find that I wanted to hold hands with and pray."

The remark drew laughter at the dinner but consternation among some former campaign aides, especially the ones who recalled that she had, in fact, deemed them worthy enough companions with whom to pray. On the surface, Palin's remark seemed like a harmless, humorous aside. But to some of the staffers who had spent two months of their lives working around the clock to try to get her elected, it was hurtful. The comment marked a turning point for several campaign operatives who had defended her up to that point but began to wonder about her willingness to exploit their relationship for political gain. "I was initially upset. I think a lot of people were," said one former senior aide who still speaks frequently to other staffers who continued to support Palin through difficult times. "I think that somebody in the group spoke up and said, 'It's not directed at us.'" Still, the aide wondered how the comment could have been allowed to run wild in the news cycle without any clarification from Palin. "Why are people letting her go out and give speeches like this? And why are people not getting ahead of this when she says something like this?"

But all of that was much further down the road. In St. Louis on the night of October 2, the governor's aides looked on approvingly as Palin took the stage and made it immediately clear that she intended to showcase her confidence and personality instead of sparring with Biden over specific details of policy-a fight she could not possibly be expected to win. "I may not answer the questions that either the moderator or you want to hear," she declared with a bright smile. "But I'm going to talk straight to the American people and let them know my track record, also."

There were a few moments that came perilously close to flashbacks of the Katie Couric interviews, such as Palin's response to moderator Gwen Ifill's question about whether any trigger would justify the use of nuclear weapons. "Nuclear weaponry, of course, would be the be-all, end-all of just too many people in too many parts of our planet," she said (mostly the end-all, as Palin-bashing columnist Maureen Dowd gleefully pointed out in a postdebate column).

All in all, however, Palin performed competently and avoided major gaffes. The Republican candidate winked and "darn righted" her way through the debate, delighting her admirers and infuriating her detractors in a predictable way. She was particularly effective in using her methodically unaffected speaking style to break down into simple terms the lessons the country could learn from the economic crisis. "Let's commit ourselves, just everyday American people, Joe Six Pack, hockey moms across the nation, I think we need to band together and say, 'Never again,'" she said. "Never will we be exploited and taken advantage of again by those who are managing our money and loaning us these dollars. We need to make sure that we demand from the federal government strict oversight of those entities in charge of our investments and our savings and we need also to not get ourselves in debt."

Though Biden restrained himself from delivering any of the over-the-top diatribes for which Randy Scheunemann had prepared her, Palin told a confidante after the debate that she'd had a hard time reigning in her smile because the real candidate sounded so much like Scheunemann. Surprisingly, it was the Democrat who struck the most poignant note of the evening when he choked up recalling the death of his first wife and daughter in a car accident that also nearly took the lives of his two sons.

Still, the aides who prepared Palin for the debate were uniformly pleased with her performance. Before a local late-night rally scheduled to keep the momentum going, Palin's inner circle opened a bottle of champagne and toasted the candidate. Feeding off the adrenaline, Palin approached a small group of aides and made a pitch to start bringing up on the campaign trail Barack Obama's ties to his controversial former preacher, Jeremiah Wright. John McCain wanted desperately to become the nation's next president, but not at the expense of facing the inevitable accusations of racial exploitation if he made Wright an issue. She knew quite well about the decree that he had months earlier laid out to everyone involved in the campaign: no one was to touch the controversy. Still, Palin could not understand why she should be held to the rule.

"I just don't want to go back to Alaska," she said in an offhanded comment that would later seem prescient.

Several polls showed that both the general electorate and undecided voters thought Biden had won the debate, although most pundits declared that Palin had exceeded expectations. But with McCain unable to gain any traction against Obama in the presidential debates, the campaign had needed Palin to do more than that. Her performance did nothing to change the complexion of the race, the way her stirring convention speech had done a month earlier.

The day after the debate, Palin caused more headaches when she told Fox News's Carl Cameron that she disagreed with the campaign's decision to pull resources out of Michigan, effectively ceding the state to Obama. She had not been consulted on that critical move in the chess game, which leaked out in a report penned by the Politico's Jonathan Martin the previous afternoon. "I fired off a quick e-mail and said, 'Oh, come on. You know, do we have to? Do we have to call it there?'" she told Cameron. "I want to get back to Michigan, and I want to try."

The e-mail that Palin sent was, in fact, essentially how she described it to Cameron. She wrote to her traveling staff and top McCain advisers, "If there's any time, Todd and I would love a quick return to Michigan-we'd tour the plants, etc. . . . If it does McC any good. I know you have a plan, but I hate to see us leave Michigan. We'll do whatever we had [sic] to do there to give it a 2nd effort."

A senior aide replied, "Michigan is out of reach unless something drastic happens. We must win oh and hopefully pa."

Palin replied that she "got it," but her subsequent interview with Cameron had shown that she hadn't. She acknowledged as much in a postinterview e-mail to senior staff, writing, "Oops-I mentioned something about that to Carl Cameron and it's now recorded that I'd love to give Michigan the ol' college try." Later in the day, she tried once more. "It's a cheap 4hr drive from WI. I'll pay for the gas," she wrote.

Though senior aides had firmly rejected her request, Palin continued to press them on it in the coming days and weeks. A natural optimist but a novice when it came to national campaign strategy, she was inclined not to give up anywhere, much less on a state that had been a prime target for months. She remembered the massive crowds that had greeted her and McCain in Macomb County the day after the convention ended and in Grand Rapids a couple of weeks later. They were good, God-fearing, salt-of-the-earth people. She figured that she could introduce them to her husband, who liked to ride snowmobiles and hunt, just like Michiganders did. Her instincts told her that if she just had a chance to talk to some laid-off automobile workers face-to-face, she could convince them to vote Republican.

"I know what I know what I know." She repeated that mantra to the people around her throughout the campaign. Sometimes she was right, but her growing determination to do things her own way became a continuing headache for the campaign's strategists, who were more interested in polling data and documented fact than they were in the vice presidential candidate's instincts.

Palin sat in her hotel suite in Costa Mesa, California, on the night after the Cameron interview and began to muse with traveling staffers about what she could do to win back Michigan, despite top aides' firm decree that it was out of reach. She was the candidate after all, and it was time for her to take more control over her own destiny. What if they descended upon the state unannounced in the middle of the night and brought Jay Leno or David Letterman along to cover the triumphant surprise visit? Several of her traveling aides loved the idea, as unorthodox as it sounded. There was a growing consensus on the plane that the powers that be at headquarters were holding her back unwisely. The late-night comedian idea was probably pushing it, but maybe they could wait until the next time they were in Ohio and commandeer the campaign bus at the end of the day's events. They could drive it across the border into Michigan, hold a dramatic public appearance to draw in local media, then drive back to Ohio overnight in time for the next day's rallies.

Though many of her aides were on board with her sentiment, other campaign staffers were becoming irritated by how often she brought up her ideas for campaigning in Michigan. There was a growing sense that the vice presidential plane was becoming a renegade operation, increasingly comfortable with acting on its own. Rick Davis was so concerned about the possibility that the governor would ignore orders and travel to Michigan on her own that he attempted to order Secret Service agents to prevent it. Of course, agents would have been obliged to follow the candidate wherever she decided to go.

Analysis: Palin's high-risk, high-reward strategy

By Alexander Mooney, CNN
October 28, 2009 12:04 p.m. EDT


Washington (CNN) -- When Sarah Palin weighed in last week on the contentious special congressional election in New York, she did so in her trademark way: unconventionally.

While other potential 2012 presidential contenders largely stayed quiet on the divisive congressional race that has exposed fault lines in the party, Palin delivered a slap in the face to Republican Party leadership in Washington when she offered a full-throated endorsement of third-party conservative Doug Hoffman over the GOP's anointed candidate, Dede Scozzafava.

Palin's surprise backing -- not even Hoffman's press secretary knew it was coming until it popped up on his Google reader -- left some political observers scratching their heads, wondering why Sen. John McCain's running mate would risk alienating her party's establishment for a long-shot candidate in a race with little national visibility.

Palin's credibility with the conservative wing of her party is already solid, unlike other potential 2012 candidates who are either largely unknown to conservatives or appear too moderate, like possible 2012 contenders Minnesota Gov. Tim Pawlenty or Louisiana Gov. Bobby Jindal.

Instead, some strategists say Palin should begin to court less partisan-charged voters, or at least avoid alienating them, if she's serious about being a viable presidential candidate.

"In the year since the election has ended, [Palin's] done nothing to expand her appeal beyond that base to the middle of the electorate where elections are decided," former McCain campaign manager Steve Schmidt said recently. "That independent vote is going to be up for grabs in 2012."

But Palin's latest move laid bare the unpredictability that has come to characterize the former Alaska governor since her bid for the vice presidency came to an end nearly a year ago, and has again raised the question of what, exactly, she wants and which game plan she is following.

To be sure, if the former governor is considering a run for the White House in 2012, as several unaffiliated Republican strategists and political observers believe that she is, at first blush she is off to a less than auspicious beginning.

In some ways, the last year has unfolded for her like a reality TV show gone wrong: a governorship plagued by ethics investigations that ended with a shocking and widely mocked resignation speech, the repeated airing of sour grapes from former McCain campaign aides, a series of embarrassing scheduling mishaps at key Republican Party events, and a bevy of tabloid reports carrying insidious allegations about her personal life.

Just-released CNN polling confirms the last 12 months have taken a toll on the Alaska Republican's popularity. Her overall approval rating has dipped to 41 percent and she trails former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee in a hypothetical matchup for the GOP presidential nomination in 2012 by 7 points. Moreover, Palin's unfavorable rating is 15 points higher than Huckabee's.

Palin has also made few of the conventional moves befitting a presidential candidate-in-waiting: She's rarely shown up at party events, has made virtually no public appearances since she resigned the governorship, or granted no national media interviews and retained no political staff.

What could be most troublesome for Palin at this stage: Most Americans can't seem to envision her ever being the commander-in-chief.

"Her biggest problem is the perception that she is not qualified to be president," CNN Polling Director Keating Holland said. "Seven in 10 Americans, and nearly half of all Republicans, say she is not qualified. It's a problem that politicians have faced before, but one that few have been able to overcome."

On the other hand, the former Alaska governor keeps injecting herself into national policy debates, largely from Facebook postings that have taken aim at President Obama's stances on a host of issues, a sign that she is set on remaining a relevant political figure.

She's also retained a fervent following and the bona fide rock-star status that enabled her to pack more campaign town hall meetings than McCain could on his own.

Two-thirds of all Americans in the CNN poll think she is not a typical politician. If Palin has her eye on the White House, she's staking out a different path toward it.

"Palin has thrown the old GOP playbook out the window," said Matt Lewis, a conservative writer for the Web site Politics Daily. "She believes that the world has changed, that all the old rules don't apply, and the conventional wisdom no longer exists."

That the former Republican vice presidential nominee hasn't broadened her political appeal in the last year was made clear when the two Republicans in the midst of hard-fought races for governor this November, Chris Christie in New Jersey and Bob McDonnell in Virginia, both declined to invite her on the campaign trail, fearing she may turn off independent voters.

Other Republican candidates vying for office in 2010 have only offered vague assurances the Alaska Republican is welcome in their territory, well aware Democratic opponents will seize on any sight of the divisive political figure.

The CNN poll also shows Palin has lost support among independent voters over the last year, drawing approval from 41 percent of them now, 10 points lower than that group's approval last year. She fares even worse with self-identified moderate voters, drawing only a 34 percent approval rating.

But does any of that matter? It's usually die-hard conservatives who vote in Republican presidential primaries, and Palin's support among this group remains strong, 62 percent, according to the CNN poll. And an eager army continues to support her, some of whom have raised more than $40,000 in hopes that she'll appear at an Iowa GOP event next month.

Moreover, as the Tea Party movement has made clear, a passionate grassroots movement now exists, ready to embrace a leader.

If the Alaska governor locks down that niche voting bloc ahead of the presidential primary season, she could face a smoother course to the nomination. On the flip side, if she's seen as too closely aligned with the Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck crowd, her viability as a national candidate could virtually become nonexistent.

By any measure, it's a high-risk, high-reward strategy.

"There [are] a lot of things happening that are changing," Lewis said. "It could be that Sarah Palin has captured that zeitgeist, that she sees things that nobody else sees, or it could be that she's running a really bad campaign. We'll find out."

Sarah Palin: rouge or rogue?

Above, on the left: the autobiography from Sarah Palin, former Alaska governor and vice presidential candidate, set to be released on November 17. And on the right -- and slated for release the exact same day -- a collection that looks to be critical of the high-profile Republican, subtitled, as it is, "Sarah Palin: An American Nightmare."

Note that in the above paragraph, "left" and "right" are meant to denote image locations only, not political perspectives.

The book covers bear no small resemblance to each other. So, too, the titles: Sarah Palin's book is "Going Rogue," a phrase taken from her deviation from John McCain's views during the 2008 campaign. The other book is entitled "Going Rouge," a phrase that comes from nowhere except a switcheroo of the letters "u" and "g" from Palin's title. (And is being used by a coloring book, too).

"Going Rouge," which is being edited by two senior editors from The Nation, is being published by the young imprint OR Books. The company seems to be hoping to either catch the wave of enthusiasm greeting Palin's book -- it's currently the #2 bestseller on Amazon, and Palin will be a guest on Oprah the day before the book arrives in stores -- or to confuse Palin supporters into purchasing the Palin-unfriendly book.

Or maybe OR Books wasn't thinking about the similarities at all. Maybe they were simply remembering that Palin paid a makeup artist more than $20,000 for two weeks' work. And if anyone wants to know how she rolls, rouge-wise, the makeup artist used blushes from Mac and Chanel.

As for going rogue, she is, in some Republican circles, still a bit roguish, in the sense of being an outsider, or perhaps even mischievous. Top of the Ticket reports that her offer to assist in governors races in New Jersey and Virginia was declined.

-- Carolyn Kellogg

Images: Left, Harper / Associated Press. Right, OR Books.

Sarah Palin Tells Friends: Watch Glenn Beck!

Huffington Post | Danny Shea

Sarah Palin is rallying her Facebook community behind Glenn Beck.
In a post on Facebook Wednesday morning titled, "An Invitation," Palin urged her 800,000-plus Facebook fans to watch the Fox News host (via Politico):

FOX News' Glenn Beck is doing an extraordinary job this week walking America behind the scenes of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue and outlining who is actually running the White House.

Monday night he asked us to invite one friend to watch; tonight I invite all my friends to watch.

-Sarah Palin

Beck is hardly having trouble in the ratings, and many of Palin's supporters fall squarely in the Beck target audience, but it will be interesting to see if he experiences a "Palin Bump."

Beck has come under fire for his remarks that President Obama is a racist, which has led dozens of advertisers to pull their sponsorship from his show.

Read more at: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/08/26/sarah-palin-tells-friends_n_269559.html

glenn beck

Off topic... but WHOA!

We may have to start a Glenn Beck is an idiot blog.

**name was taken so we had to go with Glenn Beck is a MORON! http://glennbeckisamoron.blogspot.com/