Well obviously not, I’m hardly the only person listening to Radio 4 this morning or who watched Governor Palin’s first full-on TV interview last night – but leaving my own solipsism aside and concentrating on hers, one thing she said really jumped out at me from the radio.
It struck Scarecrow of Firedoglake too:
Sarah Palin’s most revealing response to Charles Gibson was her unqualified statement that she never had the slightest doubt about her readiness to be President. The woman doesn’t even know enough to know she doesn’t know enough.
Exactly. If I had to pick one thing I’ve learned about the world as I’ve got older it’s how much there is I don’t know and how much more there always is to know. If I had to pick one thing I’ve learned about myself it’s that real confidence comes when you can admit your limitations.
Palin’s rockribbed, solid, arrogant certainty is deeply scary. Anyone, no matter how wise, intelligent, distinguished or accomplished, no matter how confident of their own abilities, would feel unqualified and quail inwardly when offered one of the world’s highest political positions totally out of the blue. The truly wise wouldn’t be scared to admit it either.
Palin has no earthly conception of the depths of the potential responsibility inherent in the post of VP. Or perhaps she does (though she’s not shown it so far) and is inwardly scared shitless because of her own inadequacy. That may make her feel she has to out-macho the men. I don’t know, I’m not her bloody analyst – but I care because a President Palin could kill us all.
Someone on tv last night (on Mock The Week to be precise, so take it with the seriousness it deserves) pointed out that McCain has, according to actuaries, a one in three chance of dying in office. If he does pop off she could have the big red button and wipe out anyone she liked, whenever she liked – uppity librarians or community organisers, annoying dictators – whole continents even!
Anyone who’s not a complete sociopath would at least think twice. But no, no doubts, none. All that counts is winning. What comes after – feh, what does that matter? She’ll have finally won the biggest beauty pageant of ’em all.
