I alway sensed that Mitt Romney was going to be president. Not later down the road, I mean during this particular incarnation of madness we call the 2008 elections. Anyway, yesterday -- with the choosing of gun-toting hockey mom, Sarah Palin -- John McCain proved my intuition completely off-base. Now, when my intuition gets thrown off base, I do what any self-respecting writer does: I move into fiction mode.
Imagine if this entire Sarah Palin thing was a well-thought-out political scheme. One in which McCain chooses a woman who just happens to be pro-right-to-life who just also happens to be a member of the National Rifle Association who just also happens to be a fundamentalist Christian. Then, as part of the plan, this woman -- who is really just a decoy -- is forced to step down from her role a few weeks later (due perhaps to a political scandal, say, stemming from, maybe the firing of a state official who may or may not have been sacked by her for refusing to possibly fire her own brother-in-law from -- oh, let's say, the state police).
And that once Palin resigns or steps down or is told to leave, McCain is placed in the difficult position of finding someone quickly. Someone who is not a woman and not as conservative and who maybe even disappoints the religious right just a little. But, poor John McCain, what can he do? At least, he is able to say he tried to do the right thing in Sarah Palin and find a person who satiated the conservatives. And now, with time running out, etc. blah blah, he's forced by circumstance to pick a less desirable candidate for VP like Joe Leiberman (hopefully not that less desirable) or ..... ummmm ..... Mitt Romney.
And now the ultra far right, though unhappy, can make believe they're somewhat appeased and John Boy has shown he deserves the Independent votes and the women's votes and the Good Old Boy votes and, hey, by the way, what a total maverick he is, etc.
Don't you just love fiction devolved from intuition gone wrong?
(Note: Now how Mitt Romney goes from being Vice President to President is too far outside my realm of intuitiveness and/or fiction-weaving skills. And it's just too darn scary to think about, anyhow. And yeah, yeah, I know: don't give up my day job!)
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