I’ve spent so much time bashing Sarah Palin that I haven’t even flipped the devalued coin and addressed my bizarre love for Cindy McCain. What do I find so compelling about the woman who’s married to my worst nightmare? First of all, with her frozen, elegant looks, she could be anywhere from 25 to 95 years old. (She’s actually 54, but her fembot appeal transcends actual numbers.) She’s also a walking contradiction who’s devoted to humanitarian work, yet thinks Dubya should have deployed more troops in Iraq.
Furthermore, she has strong ties to Anheuser-Busch, though she seems so much more of a champagne or Pino Grigio type of gal. (And let’s not hear a word about all that Percocet. That was then, like Obama’s wicked pot use, Dubya’s blow, and Laura’s surgery.) She was the other woman who won her man in the heat of passion, yet now they touch awkwardly in the night, seemingly only when cameras are around. Most deliciously of all, Cindy is a former rodeo queen who now looks like an Amy Poehler character, all set to glide around the world shaking dignitaries’ hands, kissing babies with down syndrome, and providing two pages of her tax returns. In kelly green! If McCain wins, I’ll be horrified–but at least we’ll have a First Lady worth looking out for.