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What’s a world-renowned, out-of-work political superstar got to be thankful for this Thanksgiving aside from, oh, everything?
In an effort to channel our favorite daughter of the Republican party, and in honor of her upcoming politically-motivated visit to our region, allow me to envisage Mrs. ex-First Dude’s second Thanksgiving as a bona fide maverick-y, hockey mom/politico.
The scene: an Applebee’s somewhere between Orlando, Fla. and Fayetteville, Ark. (her “Going Rogue” tour’s bookends to her Thanksgiving break).
The players: S. Palin, Todd “(Ex-) First Dude” Palin, Bristol and baby, ... and several other children whose names escape me but who are likely dressed in coordinating wool sweaters dyed in the only three patriotic colors.
A young waitress finds herself assigned to said Maverick’s table. Oh joy.
“What can I get for y’all?”
First Dude remains eerily silent with glossed-over eyes, letting the Maverick of the household speak.
“Yes, we’re gonna need some spin dip and three of those cute little plates of wings, ya know, and — Oh! — some of those onion rings Bristol loves. Anything for my sweet Bristol! She’s just been having the strangest cravings lately!”
“That all?”
“Oh shoot no. We’ll each have a plate of those Southern Chicken Sliders, seein’ as we’re in the South and all. When in Rome, eh?!”
“All right, I’ll — ”
“Say, you wouldn’t happen to have any moose meat burgers on hand would ya?”
“No ma’am.”
“Ohhh, that’s alright. I’ve got some in the truck. No biggie!”
The dinner conversation takes a turn to our protagonist’s favorite topics: liberals, the media, and, of course, the liberals in the media. There is a distinct failure to mention S-dawg’s avoidance of the media on her “Rogue” tour, despite her foot-stomping over the fact that McCain staffers sheltered her from the media last year. Ah, certainly the truth is but an irrelevant concept at this dinner table. Fantasy and disillusionment are much more fun!
Finally, the food arrives. Perhaps she’ll stop talking, First Dude hopelessly thinks to himself. Sarah asks child No. 2, in the blue sweater, to pass the spin dip as she takes a quick sip on her Mike’s Hard Cranberry Lemonade, a holiday indulgence.
“OK everyone, it’s that time again where you tell Mama Maverick whatch-yer thankful for.”
First Dude: (coughs) (awkwardly shifts weight) (silence)
Bristol: Abstinence. I LOVE abstinence. Everybody should try it. Lolz! (flips hair ... stares at cute waiter at the next table)
Stand-in child No. 1 (red sweater): Moose chili!
S. Palin: Well, I for one am thankful for each and every one of my children and, more importantly, my wildly successful ghost-written memoir. Oh, ya, and my First Dude!
First Dude: EX-First Dude.
S. Palin: Oh Todd, don’t be such a Debby Downer!
As the awkwardness quickly set in, it became a truly average American family Thanksgiving. A little dash of dysfunction, a pinch of delusion, a teaspoon of misplaced self-confidence and — Poof! — a postcard-worthy Thanksgiving dinner.
The Palin family has certainly become the gold standard of American families. So, what does that leave the rest of us to be thankful for? Well, I suppose we could be thankful for one thing: we aren’t Palins.
Reach columnist Heather Fluit at Heather.Fluit@usd.edu.
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