You probably know that when Sarah Palin spoke at a recent Tea Party gathering, she had some “crib notes” written on the palm of her hand. Apparently, the words were “Energy,” “Tax Cuts,” and “Lift American Spirit.” Unfortunately for the former governor, she peeked at her helping hand right after she criticized the President for using a teleprompter. Not surprisingly, some Democrats jumped on “palmgate’ almost immediately, and some Republicans leapt to Palin’s defense. I’m not particularly interested in weighing in on whether her writing on her hand was good or bad. What strikes me — and probably everyone else — is that it’s something that brings to mind school days. This got me thinking. Maybe politicians will follow Palin’s lead and revert to the behavior and words of kids.
One of the people who spoke in Sarah Palin’s defense was former Miss America, Kirsten Haglund — or as she would be referred to in school, “the pretty, popular girl.”
Maybe soon we’ll hear Nancy Pelosi exclaim after somebody criticizes her, “I’m rubber, you’re glue. Everything you say about me bounces off me and sticks to you.”
I think it would be fun to watch an exchange like this between Rod Blagojevich and the prosecutor at his trial:
Blago: Am not.
Prosecutor: Are too.
Blago: Am not.
Prosecutor: Are too.
Maybe Defense Secretary Gates will be criticized by someone who will say, “Oh yeah? You and what army.”
Maybe after the President urges Republicans to embrace the spirit of bipartisanship, Minority Leader Mitch McConnel will respond, “You can’t make me. You’re not the boss of me.”
When the chair of a Senate committee asks a witness, “Where’s that report you promised us?” Then the witness might respond, “Uh, my dog ate it.”
During a debate in Congress, after Congressman #1 finishes talking, Congressman #2 says, “I agree with my distinguished colleague.” To which Congressman #1 responds, “Stop copying me.”
During a filibuster, I can imagine a senator saying, “Why should I stop texting just because you’re talking.”
The parents, spouses, and children could get in on the act, too.
A spouse might say, “I don’t care if you’re supposed to have dinner with the Queen of England. It’s your turn to take the kids to soccer.”
An irate mother could say to her son, “Senator, Shmenator. Before you go to the hill, clean up your room.”
A plea to an ambassador before going to his assignment could be,” I’m not saying you have to do it right away, but maybe over dessert, could you see if the prince might want to go out with Katie?”
A strict mother might say, “I don’t care if you are the Congressional Chaplain. I still say it’s wrong for you to get anything pierced.”
While the President is going over his notes for a big speech over breakfast, I can just hear Michelle saying, “You know the rules. No reading at the table.”
At a state dinner where some exotic food is being served, the Secretary General of the United Nations is told, “Come on. Just eat half of it.” He responds in earshot of everyone, “No. It’s yucky. It’ll make me barf. Now let’s talk about nuclear proliferation.”
The wife of the head of the CIA, “Well, I wouldn’t be so suspicious if you weren’t so secretive.”
An unimpressed mother, “Surgeon General, big deal. Now, if you were a general surgeon …”
And then there’s the one you really don’t want to hear: “Come on, kids. I’ve told you a million times: Don’t hide my ‘football’ with all the nuclear war codes. I’ll let you stay up an extra hour if you tell me where it is. Give me a hint. Is it in the dishwasher again? Am I getting warm?”
Lloyd Garver has written for many television shows, ranging from “Sesame Street” to “Family Ties” to “Home Improvement” to “Frasier.” He has also read many books, some of them in hardcover. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. Check out his website at lloydgarver.com and his podcasts on iTunes.