Right up there with "What's the frequency, Keneth?" Sarah Palin's question to the question of her take on the Bush Doctrine, in the horrible midwestern nasally whine, left Charles Gibson frowning over his gramma specs, and the rest of the country shaking their heads. The obvious fear is that dotering old fool McCain gets in office, croaks, and the reins are left to SP. God help us.
It's the opening day of turkey season and I have to drive to Monsey, to go bathroom fixture shopping for Shewho. My bevy of supermodel hunting buddies don't seem to be interested in Fall turkey. I don't blame them. It's not as much fun as Spring turkey. No big toms in strut. No gobbling. Hell, I don't even know where the flocks are. So the girls are staying home practicing their grunt calls and waiting for deer season. From the diaphram girls. Less lip.
Nonetheless, once my porcelin duties are over, I'm going to grab the shot gun and drive out to WSS. I've seen birds out there, and really just want to get back in the woods. Thurs. night Bird, Ginger and I are heading up to brother Duke's in Maine for The Sandy River 500. We're making a pitstop in CT to see the folks and watch the Palin/Biden debate. "The question is to Ms. Palin. Gov., a moose is crossing a bog, 300 yards out. You are shooting a Win. .300 mag. He stops. His vitals are partially covered by a blueberry bush. It starts to snow. In a matter of seconds you will not be able to see the moose, as it is headed for Russia. Do you wait until the squall passes, hoping the moose will still be there when the skies clear or do you take the shot through the Bush?" That one, I'm sure she could answer.
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