Flushing Away Convention

"Fountain," readymade art by Marcel Duchamp, 1917. Photograph by Alfred Stieglitz.

I have developed a tendency to awaken early of late. When this happens, I may get up and read, or write, or watch the special features on a DVD. Sometime I'll have to tell you what happened to the Time Machine after the movie was completed in 1960. Other times I may just lie abed and ponder the Big Questions, such as why does the phrase, "early of late," used so cleverly in the opening sentence of this post, make sense, but the phrase "late of early" does not? Today, I awoke with visions of, not sugar plums, but a urinal dancing in my head. Yes, I have reached an age where the prostate gland looms ever larger on the horizon, much as Vladimir Putin "raises his head and comes into the air space of the United States of America," according to Sarah Palin (this memorable word salad occurs 59 seconds into the clip below of her interview with Katie Couric in 2008). But I was not thinking of a porcelain fixture because of a personal plumbing obstruction. I have not yet joined that jolly band of "guys" (as aging male baby booomers with problems below the belt are invariably called in TV commercials) who frequently must interrupt an ocean kayaking adventure with their buddies (other "guys") to look for a restroom onshore. It's interesting to me that the men in ads for prostate-shrinking drugs are a hale and hearty group, attending baseball games or bicycling across country, and not old coots in motorized chairs who have to take a break from the early bird special at Old Country Buffet to relieve themselves. No, they're all convivial, active "guys."



But enough of that. The reason I brought up the subject of urinals is I want to discuss the dada artist, Marcel Duchamp. As I have pointed out on numerous previous occasions, the blog Lugubrious Drollery is built on a rickety foundation of scant knowledge and an utter lack of expertise, particularly when it comes to the subject of art. This was perhaps best illustrated in the previous post, "The Avant-Garde Nature of Winky Dink," wherein I compared Monsieur Duchamp to a 1950s television cartoon character.

Tonsure. Marcel Duchamp with haircut by George de Zayas, Paris, 1919. Photo by Man Ray.

Winky Dink. Dell comic book, 1955.
My interest in Duchamp was reignited by a connection between one of his more notorious works and a piece of statuary on the courthouse square in Goshen, Indiana. Duchamp's piece is called simply "Fountain" and the Goshen piece is the "Neptune Fountain" or "Poseidon Fountain," and has been discussed here in two recent posts, "Monochrome Fountain," and "Neptune in the Heartland." One thing I found particularly fascinating is that both pieces came from the J.L. Mott Iron Works in New York City. This company produced statues as well as more utilitarian items like stoves, cast iron store fronts, and plumbing fixtures.

People with no more self-respect than to read this blog on a regular basis will appreciate that the author becomes easily fatigued when trying to compose fresh prose and frequently resorts to lifting text from other web sites. Let the current half-hearted effort be no exception! I quote from the article "Idol Thoughts," by Jerry Saltz, in the Feb. 21, 2006 Village Voice. I admire this article if for no other reason than the caption under a picture of Duchamp's urinal: Dada, where's the bathroom? Now there's a title worthy of a "Rocky and Bullwinkle" cartoon or an episode of "My Mother the Car."

In the winter of 1917, Duchamp—then 29, in America less than two years, teaching French, but still a sensation for the scandal his Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2 caused at the Armory Show of 1913 (the year he created his first "readymade")—along with collector Walter Arensberg and artist Joseph Stella, bought a Bedfordshire model urinal from the J.L. Mott Iron Works at 118 Fifth Avenue. Duchamp took the fixture to his studio at 33 West 67th Street, laid it on its back, and signed it "R. Mutt 1917." The name is a play on its commercial origins and also on the famous comic strip of the time, Mutt and Jeff (making the urinal perhaps the first work of art based on a comic). In German, armut means poverty, although Duchamp said the R stood for Richard, French slang for "moneybags"...

Mr. Saltz goes on to explain how Duchamp submitted "Fountain" to an exhibit put on by the Society of Independent Artists. Everything submitted was supposed to be displayed, but the Independent Artists made an exception in Duchamp's case. Maybe he would have done better with the Society of Incontinent Artists. In any event, "Fountain" went missing after the exhibit. Duchamp eventually authorized eight replacements. Saltz reported in his article that on January 4, 2006, 77-year-old French performance artist Pierre Pinoncelli took a hammer to one of Duchamp's Fountains, valued at 3.4 million dollars, at a dada show at the Pompidous Center. This wasn't his first assault on Duchamp's work. In 1993, the iconoclastic Monsieur Pinoncelli urinated into "Fountain" and damaged it. Perhaps if he were on a drug to decrease the size of his prostate, he would be less irritable and instead of attacking pricy plumbing fixtures, could spend his time bicycling around the French countryside with other "guys," unimpeded by the need to stop at every pissoir along the way.

Duchamp set off a debate on the nature of art that continues to this day. Can found objects really be considered art? Is something art just because the artist says it is? Is Duchamp chortling up his sleeve in dada heaven to think that someone would consider paying 3.4 million dollars for something that he couldn't even get displayed at an art exhibit in 1917?

I'd like to stay and discuss this further, but I need to visit the restroom.

12 Steps From Governor Sarah

Readers of a certain age may recognize in the title of this post the allusion to the movie, "Two Mules for Sister Sara" (1970), starring Clint Eastwood and Shirley MacLaine. Now the rest of you are in on the joke, whether you choose to be or not.

I need help. I admit it. I need to join Palinaholics Anonymous. I thought I could do it on my own. I thought I could ignore Alaska's governor, no matter how annoying she might be. I thought I could avoid responding to her, no matter how many non sequiturs she spewed forth. But I'm weak. I need a 12 step program.

I was doing pretty well through the recent feud between Gov. Palin and David Letterman. I didn't really care about Letterman's admittedly tasteless joke about Palin's daughter being knocked up by Alex Rodriguez during the seventh inning stretch of a New York Yankees game, and Palin's carefully staged outraged response. But then Letterman had to go and offer a possibly sincere apology, to which the governor responded.

In a statement to FOXNews.com early today, Sarah Palin said of David Letterman's apology, "Of course it's accepted on behalf of young women, like my daughters, who hope men who 'joke' about public displays of sexual exploitation of girls will soon evolve."

Huh? Young women are hoping men will soon evolve who joke about public displays of sexual exploitation of girls? Governor, is this the way, in your words, to progress our great nation?

The erudite evangelical went on to say, "Letterman certainly has the right to 'joke' about whatever he wants to, and thankfully we have the right to express our reaction. "

Fair enough. But then she had to drag the troops into it:

"This is all thanks to our U.S. Military women and men putting their lives on the line for us to secure America's Right to Free Speech - in this case, may that right be used to promote equality and respect."

Makes me want to stick a magnetic ribbon manufactured in China on my truck: "I Support More Troops Than You," Thanks to the military for fighting for the right of David Letterman to make lame jokes and the right of Mrs. Palin to mangle the English language. If God wanted us to speak proper English, he would have made us lose the Revolution.

The Worst TV Show Ever?

Model car kit like the one assembled by the author, ca. 1966

Regular readers of Lugubrious Drollery, if such a class of human beings exists, will be aware that the author has what some might call a disturbing fascination with the contempible. Previous posts have investigated the most boring book of all time, the closely related topic of the weirdest book title, the most hideously decorated cakes, the worst vice-presidential candidate (Sarah Palin), the lowliest weed (burdock), the most maligned mineral (asbestos), and of course, the worst U.S. Presidents, especially that perpetual object of scorn and rebuke, Franklin Pierce.

Recent interactions with fellow bloggers have started me thinking about a television show that has been ranked by TV Guide as one of the worst TV shows ever produced, ranking just above The Jerry Springer Show, which was designated as the worst. Considering the vast collection of dreck broadcast over the airwaves over the last sixty years or so, that's quite a distinction. The show singled out for this dubious honor was My Mother the Car. Thirty episodes were aired in 1965 and 1966, and then it was all over. I don't believe the show was ever brought back in syndication, although a few episodes are now available for viewing on YouTube.

What initially reminded me of MMTC was a post about the fantasy TV shows of the 60s, including The Flying Nun, at the blog of W.Z. Snyder, #167 Dad. He mentioned the premise of MMTC--a guy's mother is reincarnated as a 1928 Porter automobile--which reminded me that one of the many model cars I assembled as a nerdy adolescent was My Mother the Car (shown above). After that, I couldn't get this fragment of the theme song from MMTC out of my head:

A 1928 Porter
That's my mother dear
She helps me through
Everything I do
And I'm so glad she's here

As if that weren't bad enough, Matthew Coniam, at his blog The Marx Brothers Council of Britain, stirred up more memories when his post about director Norman Z. McLeod included a poster for the movie Swing Shift Maisie (1943). The poster features the young and beautiful star Ann Sothern, who went on to have her own TV show, and still later was the voice of none other than My Mother the Car.

Now that MMTC has been forced back into my consciousness, I have done some research and found out the following about the show:

Jerry VanDyke, brother of Dick VanDyke, turned down the part of Gilligan in Gilligan's Island to play Dave Crabtree, the lead in MMTC.

Two cars were used to film the series. Neither was a real Porter. They were assembled from parts of other old cars plus some custom made parts by George Barris, who also created the Batmobile for the Batman TV series, the Munster Koach, and many other cars for TV and the movies. The power train consisted of a 283 cu. in. Chevy V8 and a Powerglide automatic transmission. One of the "Porters" was a stunt car with the floorboards removed and equipped with mirrors so the driver could be out of sight in scenes where Mother was supposed to be traveling around on her own.

Was MMTC really any worse than shows about a witch in the suburbs, a Martian masquerading as an earthling's uncle, hillbillies living in a mansion, etc., etc.? In my opinion, it's a close race.

One thing MMTC had going for it was the fact it was created by Allan Burns and Chris Hayward, who also created The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show, which usually had great titles for its episodes. Some of this same brilliance shines through in the titles of the MMTC episodes. The complete list follows:

"Come Honk Your Horn"
"The De-Fenders"
"What Makes Auntie Freeze"
"Lassie, I Mean Mother, Come Home"
"Burned at the Steak"
"I'm Through Being a Nice Guy"
"Lights, Camera, Mother"
"The Captain Manzini Grand Prix"
"TV or Not TV"
"My Son, the Ventriloquist"
"My Son, the Judge"
"And Leave the Drive-In to Us"
"For Whom the Horn Honks"
"Hey Lady, Your Slip Isn't Showing"
"Many Happy No-Returns"
"Shine On, Shine On, Honeymoon"
"I Remember Mama, Why Can't You Remember Me?"
"Goldporter"
"The Incredible Shrinking Car"
"I'd Rather Do it Myself, Mother"
"You Can't Get There From Here"
"A Riddler on the Roof"
"My Son, the Criminal"
"An Unreasonable Facsimile"
"Over the Hill to the Junkyard"
"It Might as Well Be Spring as Not"
"Absorba the Greek"
"The Blabbermouth"
"When You Wish Upon a Car"
"Desperate Minutes"

I've watched part of the first episode, "Come Honk Your Horn" (a takeoff on "Come Blow Your Horn," Neil Simon's first play, later a movie starring Frank Sinatra), on YouTube, and I'd have to say the title is the best part of the show.

Tweeting

I don't tweet on Twitter. I haven't tried it. I haven't followed other twits, or tweeters, or whatever they're called. The fact that Ashton Kutcher seems to be deeply involved with tweeting was reason enough for me to stay away.

But now an event has occurred that has strengthened my resolve to avoid Twitter--Sarah Palin is tweeting.

I think this phenomenon will prove to be the Pet Rock of the early 21st Century. Apparently, the fad is already passing, with the retention rate for Twitter users down to 40%.

Turkeys

I was planning to simply post some nice pictures of wild turkeys I took in our back yard this morning, but then, as she too often does, Governor Sarah Palin intruded on my consciousness, and I felt compelled to embed the infamous "turkey pardon" video from last Thanksgiving, featuring the governor reading, poorly, from a corny prepared speech, and then ad libbing with a typical word salad as she is interviewed in front of a happy Alaskan exsanguinating turkeys. The slaughter of the turkeys is almost as disturbing as the governor's butchery of the English language-almost. Those with weak stomachs may wish to just skip to the pretty pictures later in the post.



Here are the pictures. Turkeys are, IMHO, beautiful birds, and I can understand why Benjamin Franklin proposed that they should be America's national bird.

Mavericks

I was going to include some of the information in this post in another article I'm working on for Lugubrious Drollery, but then I decided I should ratchet up my already intense research efforts a notch by reading a relevant book, or at least part of a book, before publishing the article. Or maybe I'll just look at the pictures, if the book has any. I've ordered it from Amazon, but in the meantime, I know readers of LD are thirsting for knowledge. So gather around the fire and quaff deeply, campers.

Without giving too much away, I will say that the article I'm working on involves an historical figure who could have been considered a maverick. Rather than waiting to share my desultory thoughts on the word maverick, I offer them up now.

First, let's review the meanings of the word desultory, which I have to look up any time I'm tempted to use it. From the Merriam Webster Online Dictionary:

Main entry: des-ul-to-ry
Function: adjective
Etymology: Latin desultorius, literally, of a circus rider who leaps from horse to horse, from desilire, from de- + salire to leap--more at sally (a word I used to good effect in a previous post*, if I do say so myself--ed.)
1: marked by lack of definite plan, regularity, or purpose
2: not connected with the main subject
3. disappointing in progress, performance, or quality

There you have it, ladies and gentlemen, my thought process in a nutshell.

As I have pondered the word maverick these last few days, my thoughts have skipped like a flat stone hurled sidearm across a stagnant and algae-choked pond. I have ruminated upon a real-life Texas cattleman (who should be used to rumination), an old TV western, a cheap Ford sedan, and last year's Presidential campaign.

Let us begin (I know what you're thinking--all that, and he hasn't even begun?) with the etymology of the word maverick, from the old standby, The Online Etymology Dictionary:

Maverick: 1867, "calf or yearling found without an owner's brand," in allusion to Samuel A. Maverick (1803-70), Texas cattle owner who was negligent in branding his calves. Sense of "individualist, unconventional person" is first recorded 1886, via notion of "masterless."

My earliest recollection of hearing the word maverick, like many of the things that persist in my brain while more important data are lost, comes from television. I grew up on a duck farm, and there was no need to brand our stock. Even if they got outside the pen, they wouldn't waddle far, so our conversations would never include statements like, "I've got to saddle up the palomino and round up the mavericks." For one thing, we didn't have a palomino, or any other kind of horse. There was no desultory jumping around from horse to horse, circus style, at our farm. For another thing, there was no rounding up to be done. We would just grab the escapees by their necks and lift them back over the fence.

Now, where was I? Oh, yeah--TV. One of the coolest actors of our time is James Garner. Back in the fifties, he was the star of the western Maverick. His character was Bret Maverick, a carefree gambler, and of course, he was an "individualist" and "masterless." Whether he was supposed to be related to Samuel Maverick, the negligent cattleman, I don't know, and I don't feel like going to Wikipedia right now to try to find out. I have gone to the trouble to go to YouTube to embed the intro to the show here.



Fast forward now to 1970. That was the year my father purchased the second new car he had bought during my lifetime. The first was a 1964 VW Beetle, which I had commandeered. A frugal man, he went for economy again and bought a Ford Maverick. On those occasions when I drove it, I didn't feel nearly as cool as Bret Maverick, but I did prove that a tinny Ford with a four-cylinder engine and a three-on-the-tree manual shift could, however briefly, exceed one hundred miles an hour without blowing up--a fact I never shared with my father.

In case you don't remember the sleek lines of the Ford Maverick, I'm posting a picture here. I wasn't enamored enough with the Maverick to take a picture of it. I was fortunate enough to find a picture of one at Wikimedia Commons. It's even the same color as ours, although ours didn't have such fancy chrome lug nuts.


Lastly (do I hear cheers from the audience?), during last year's Presidential campaign, the word maverick was bandied about a good deal. Sen. John McCain, trying his best to distance himself from the extremely unpopular George W. Bush, painted himself as a "Washington outsider," (who happens to have been in Washington since 1982). He and his running mate Sarah Palin spent a lot of time calling each other "reformers" and "mavericks" even though McCain voted with the Republicans 93.8 percent of the time during the 111th Congress. You want a maverick? How about Sen. Olympia Snowe (R, Maine), who voted with the GOP only 34.4 percent of the time? Now, there's a woman who can say, "Thanks, but no thanks," and mean it.

So, there you have it, cowpokes and cowgirls--a brief ride through the deep recesses of my mind. Happy trails until we meet again.

*Link to previous post, "Step Into My Bidet," wherein the author cleverly uses the word sally.
Link to Online Etymology Dictionary

Near Miss

Why is the event called a near miss when two airplanes come close to crashing in the air? Isn't it a near collision?

Anyway, on September 9 Lugubrious Drollery proposed a list of potential names for Bristol Palin's baby. The blessed event occurred on December 28.

My top pick: Trapper
Actual name: Tripp

Coincidence? Near miss? Or perhaps Bristol and Levi got the idea from me. They didn't want to appear obvious, so they changed one letter, to Tripper. Oops--that brings up thoughts of Levi's mother's drug dealing, so they shortened it to Tripp.

The Droll Roll

As a new year dawns, Lugubrious Drollery is adding a new feature--the Droll Roll. This widget can be found at the top of the sidebar to the right. It is a place where people who find their lives aren't embarassing enough already have an opportunity to further humiliate themselves by acknowledging publicly that they read this blog. According to the description of the feature supplied by Blogger,

Many readers ignore sidebar items so by writing a post about your followers widget and moving the widget to the top of your sidebar, you will inevitably grow your audience.

Ah yes, that is my goal--to grow my audience, much as Sarah Palin progresses her great state of Alaska (see LD's previous post Sarah Palin Progresses Her Political Ambition at the Expense of the English Language).

So step right up, ladies and gentlemen and children of all ages. Click on "Follow With Google Friend Connect." No, no--not here. Up there. To the right. Under the heading "Droll Roll: Irregular Readers." We few, we happy few readers of Lugubrious Drollery welcome you with open arms. Please plant yourself in the Droll Roll, so that I may grow you. There is abundant fertilizer here (see LD's previous post Franklin Pierce and the Golden Age of Guano).

Sarah Palin Progresses Her Political Ambition at the Expense of the English Language

PALIN: It would be my honor to assist and support our new president and the new administration, yes. And I speak for other Republicans, other Republican governors also, they being willing also to, again, seize this opportunity that we have to progress this nation together, a united front.

Thus spake Sarah Palin (pictured above in Kuwait in 2007 after she acquired her first honest-to-goodness U.S. Passport) in a recent interview with CNN's Wolf Blitzer. Sarah, please, PROGRESS IS AN INTRANSITIVE VERB! Please, please, please, just shut up and go back to Alaska!

More on Palin and the Witch Hunter

Monday, Mary and I attended a speech and question and answer session, featuring Karl Rove, at the Mendel Center at Lake Michigan College. Among the many stomach-churning things Rove said, he referred to the "Palin-McCain" ticket. Much has been made of Gov. Palin also putting herself at the head of the ticket in one of her speeches. Was it a slip or intentional? In her case, I'm not sure, but I feel confident that this was an intentional piece of Democrat-baiting by Rove, the master manipulator. He wants to take the focus off McCain, and wants Obama and the Democrats to attack Palin, increasing support for the hockey mom. In fact, Rove wrote an article in the Sept. 11, 2008 Wall Street Journal pointing out the folly of Presidential candidates attacking the opponents' running mates--to wit, Michael Dukakis attacking Dan Quayle in 1988, and Adlai Stevenson attacking Richard Nixon in 1952. In case you've forgotten, neither one of those Democratic candidates did very well in the general election.

But what I really want to talk about is a video of Palin's anointing by witch hunter Rev. Thomas Muthee at the Wasilla Assembly of God Church in 2005. While he has his hand on Sarah Palin's shoulder, praying for her, he explicitly refers to "witchcraft" (at 8:38 into the video). OK, Obama may have had a nutty minister in the form of Jeremiah Wright, but I don't believe Obama ever voluntarily stood, palms upturned and head bowed, next to Wright while the pastor spouted his crazy rhetoric. That is what Sarah Palin is doing in the video. This is too much!

Maybe it's because two people named Corey were executed during the Salem witch trials, but I have no interest in having anybody associated with belief in witchcraft in a position of power in this country.

Palin Was an Awesome Sportscaster

Sarah Palin may not have a big fat resume like Barack Obama, but was Obama ever a sportscaster? Add this to the list of qualifications for working in the executive branch of the federal government. Here's the governor, appearing with her maiden name, Heath, in a clip from 1988.

Palin Received Awesome Anointing from African Witch Hunter

In the Across the Pond blog at Times Online, reporter Hannah Strange discusses the connection of Kenyan evangelist Thomas Muthee with the Wasilla Assembly of God Church, where he prayed for Sarah Palin to become governor of Alaska in 2005. Muthee is also known for successfully running an alleged witch, Mama Jane, out of the town of Kiambu, Kenya. Ms. Strange writes:

Pastor Muthee has frequently referred to this witchhunt in his sermons as an example of the power of “spiritual warfare”. In October 2005, he delivered ten sermons at the Wasilla Assembly of God, the audio of which was available on the church’s website until it was removed around the time Mrs Palin’s candidacy was announced. The blog Irregular Times has listings and screen grabs of the sermons.

It was during that these sermons that Mrs Palin, who was then preparing for her gubernatorial run, was anointed by Pastor Muthee. His intercession, she says, was “awesome”.

There is just no end to the awesomeness of Gov. Palin. Welcome back to Salem, ca. 1692!

Lugubrious Drollery Scoops the NYT

In an article entitled "In Office, Palin Hired Friends and Hit Critics," the New York Times reports on the management style of non-community-organizer Sarah Palin. Included in the article is the following:

Another confidante of Ms. Palin’s is Ms. Frye, 27. She worked as a receptionist for State Senator Lyda Green before she joined Ms. Palin’s campaign for governor. Now Ms. Frye earns $68,664 as a special assistant to the governor. Her frequent interactions with Ms. Palin’s children have prompted some lawmakers to refer to her as “the babysitter,” a title that Ms. Frye disavows.

...she is an effusive cheerleader for her boss.

“YOU ARE SO AWESOME!” Ms. Frye typed in an e-mail message to Ms. Palin in March.

You heard it here first, in Lugubrious Drollery's post Sarah Palin is Awesome!

Based on her actions as governor, you can expect to see Miss Wasilla's high school cronies in positions of power in Washington if McCain is elected!

What Exactly Is It That the VP Does Every Day?

Another priceless video.

Sarah Palin is Awesome!

I wanted to start this post with a really cool picture of an outhouse in Wasilla, Alaska, but since the picture is copyrighted, I'm just supplying a link. Wasilla is, according to Karl Rove, the second largest city in Alaska. Being mayor of this booming metropolis, which is said to have some actual indoor plumbing, is obviously preparation for being a heartbeat from becoming President of the USA. Awesome! Actually it's the fifth largest city in Alaska, but it is the second largest city in Alaska with a population between 5 and 10 thousand. So take that, you America-hating liberals! Mr. Rove was almost accurate in his statement.

I never intended to lapse into political discourse on this blog. I don't have an agenda per se. I am embarassed to say that I voted for W in the last two elections--the first time due to a fear of higher taxes, and the last time because John Kerry chose that weasel John Edwards as his running mate.

But. . . I can't sit by quietly as I read about what's going on now. Take for instance, Ms. Palin's flip-flopping on global warming. She previously denied it is caused by human activity, but now that her running mate acknowledges it is, she's changed her tune, sort of. From the AP's coverage of Palin's recent interview on ABC, I present the following:

In the ABC interview, Palin said she believes that "man's activities certainly can be contributing to the issue of global warming, climate change. ... Regardless, though, of the reason for climate change, whether it's entirely, wholly caused by man's activities or is part of the cyclical nature of our planet — the warming and the cooling trends — regardless of that, John McCain and I agree that we gotta do something about it."

So, even though she is still hedging her bets about the cause, she and McCain are going to do something about it. Awesome! And if, as she apparently really believes, global warming is caused by cyclical warming and cooling trends, she and McCain can do something about that. Altering the cyclical nature of our planet! Awesome!

As to her qualifications for dealing with Russia, she had this to say:

Pressed about what insights into recent Russian actions she gained by living in Alaska, Palin told Gibson, "They're our next-door neighbors and you can actually see Russia from land here in Alaska, from an island in Alaska."

So even though it's not clear that Governor Palin has actually seen Russia from a distance, it appears someone in Alaska has. Awesome!

Naming Sarah Palin's Grandchild

As we all know, whether we wanted to or not, vice-presidential candidate Sarah Palin will be a grandmother in few months. I would like to help in choosing a name for Bristol's baby. Let's review the names of Sarah's children:

Track, Bristol, Willow, Piper, and Trig

In the spirit of avoiding ordinary names, I would like to offer up the following possibilities for Bristol's baby:

Trapper, Pistol, Remington, Colt, Winchester, or Calculus

Trapper seems to fit the Alaskan lifestyle and Gov. Palin's love of outdoor activities such as shooting caribou while breastfeeding. Plus, it would resonate with the family names that start with "tr": Track and Trig. Pistol also honors the gun-totin' family tradition, and carries the added bonus of rhyming with Bristol. Remington, Colt, and Winchester are all names to warm the cockles of an NRA member's heart. Even though Sarah chose to name her youngest child Trig because it is a Norse word meaing "true" and "brave victory," trig is also short for trigonometry, so how about borrowing a name from another branch of mathematics, calculus? Not only that, but this word also has other layers of meaning, such as "kidney stone," which can be nearly as irritating as the Palin family.

Other suggestions are welcome.

Spinning Sarah Palin

This video from the Daily Show is a beautiful example of political operatives such as Karl Rove, Bill O'Reilly, Dick Morris, and the ever-popular Nancy Pfotenhauer talking out of both sides of their mouths.