I’ve listened to   Mrs. P at two separate campaign rallies, yesterday and today, answering questions about how she intends to keep her promise of being a friend to moms with special needs kids. Each time, she said that she would “make it a priority” in the schools. She would pay for this not by raising spending, but by “prioritizing.”

Somehow, I’m not convinced that she has a plan. I did read that she has a full-time babysitter for Trig on her payroll. Bless her heart!

I have also been so privileged as to read about Track Palin’s mysterious trip to Michigan to finish high school.   It’s because he and 3 other boys were arrested in 1985 for vandalizing some school buses while they were drunk. Believe me, I have spent hours reading about this and there is no doubt in my mind that this is why he enlisted in the armed forces instead of pursuing his ambition to be a professional hockey player.   It’s actually a pretty fascinating cover up.

Frankly, I am sick to death of Mrs. Palin but I am duty bound to hunt her down like the wolves she likes to shoot from helicopters.   By tomorrow, we’ll hear some kind of verdict in Troopergate, but I already know that nothing will stop this crazy bitch, nothing.   Read this and then drink yourself to sleep.

Meanwhile, I have been honored with a request from K-line to list six of my quirks. I’m not sure if these are quirks but here you go:

1. I still sleep with a blankie only it’s a shirt, named Shirty.
2. I scream when I rub my eyes, involuntarily. The Eye-Rubbing Scream still alarms my husband.
3. I’m afraid to drive on freeways.
4. I like to plan and carry out elaborate vendettas.
5. I love to dance to disco music.
6. I cross myself when I hear something dreadful, even though I’m an atheist Jew.

Now I’m supposed to tag a bunch of people and some other stuff but I’m too tired and need to go watch Nancy Grace.

Every night, I am glued to the TV while Nancy Grace sneers and yells into the camera that Casey whatshername is lying about the whereabouts of her two year old daughter Caley.

No shit, Nancy! The mom did it! The frustration with this mom’s failure to just admit it is driving Nancy and me nuts.   Nancy is like a circling shark, and I’m right there behind her. My husband can’t understand why I need to watch this, so I tell him it’s like people who love reading murder mysteries.

But it’s not really. I just want that bitch to admit it so Nancy and I can move on.   I know there are other things happening in the world, bigger stories, momentous events, but I need to get to the end of this grisly road. I need that woman to stop lying.   I’m taking it personally.

On the album “Nothing’s Shocking” by Jane’s Addiction, there is a song called “Ted, Just Admit it.” It’s about Ted Bundy, who didn’t confess until after he was sentenced to death.   On the eve of his execution, Ted Bundy gave an interview in which he blamed pornography for making him a serial killer.   Who knows what this emotionally vacant mom will blame.

I loved that Jane’s Addiction record. To this day, when someone I know is in denial about something, I mutter “Ted, just admit it!”   It never gets me anywhere, though.