Fair Questions?

Okay, so I'm really going to just be reposting this story, as I couldn't have said it better myself. I will say that maybe the campaign that has lived by the Rove, might just die by the truth. And sure, take away all the questions about her family, and there's still plenty to make this little alien sceer'd ta death about this person being a heartbeat away from McNasty, what with all the cancer and age stuff. Oh well...

-Maltok 5

Have You Hugged a Republican Today?

When did the Republican Party become the Pity Party?

What has surprised me this week in St. Paul is the sense of grievance that Republicans feel, or pretend to feel, at the cruel forces that are treating them in such a beastly manner. The news media are the principal villains. Having rallied around Sarah Palin as John McCain's running mate, Republicans are outraged that anyone would ask whether a first-term Alaska governor, whose only other political experience was as a small-town mayor, is the right person for the job. Having announced that Sarah Palin’s unmarried 17-year-old daughter is pregnant, the McCain campaign is irate that anyone would write about this circumstance, much less ask further questions about it.

“Why hound the Palin family over such a private matter?” the campaign protests. Uh, maybe because you put out a press release?

Anyone who questions Palin’s qualifications, or points out that she was for the Bridge to Nowhere before she was against it, is being sexist. Anyone who mentions that McCain is 72, which would make him the oldest man to be elected president, is being ageist. Who knew the Republican Party was so keenly attuned to delicate matters of political correctness? It’s hard to square the image of the party that Fred Thompson tried to project Tuesday night -- tough, muscular to the point of being martial, unafraid and uncompromising, able to skin a moose -- with all the exquisite sensitivity, all the wailing and the lamentation and the gnashing of teeth, on display in St. Paul. This is a party that seems to want reassurance, validation, and maybe a hug.

It all reminds me of those old Saturday morning cartoons in which an elephant would jump up on a stool and tremble in fear at the sight of a mouse.

By Eugene Robinson