Looking out onto the sea of bright shining faces of the RNC, I cannot help but notice that few look like me. It stood in stark contrast to the DNC, wherein there was a lot of shuffle around the racial rainbow. There is where my ideal comfort zone lies. Where I don’t feel like one of the few dark specks in a tub of Hagen Dazs, noting for faintly paranoid self-security that all around me is dilution of my flavor.
Watching Sarah Palin’s acceptance speech reflecting from all those faces resembling hers, I thought how comfortable she must be amongst her welcoming own. The things that disturb me about her, things available to anyone interested enough to look, weren’t even a consideration to the sea of same-as-she. They reveled in her conveyance of the careworn concept that they alone hold the country and its ideals in the proper esteem.
She was comfortable telling her story cribbed from the Wikipedia entry edited to soft-focus the corruption and vitriol of bridges and vendetta because she knew that it didn’t matter to the mostly filled building of people dedicated to the idea that…We…Are…Right. We. Are. Right. She adorably wrinkled her nose in anger or grit to absolve them of eight scofflaw years of lies and torture and they each turned to their conservative kith, pleased to freely celebrate.