Good news! The show’s a hit! Five million people tuned in to watch the first episode of the world’s longest campaign ad. What a country we live in where average, middle class Americans can pull themselves up by their bootstraps and annoy millions of other Americans. Surely this means good things are happening in this country. Unfortunately for me, however, it’s increasing the likelihood of me having an aneurysm caused by this little knot of pain I feel behind my left eyeball every time one of the Palins pops up. And, sweet baby jesus, they are popping up everywhere. Basic cable, broadcast television, the news, the internet, Twitter. I can’t handle it if this is what it’s going to be like until 2012.
Thinks she so cool…
As a result, this week I’m going zen all over ya’ll and embracing the natural elements that this show has to offer. I like nature, but as a city girl I don’t often experience it. In my defense I’ve tried taking advantage of the parks around here; you know, just sitting on a bench, eating my lunch, watching the leaves on the trees. Unfortunately, because I live and work in downtown D.C., a few incidents last month forced me to put a moratorium on my park visits. First, there was the time I cut through the park near my office after dark and accidentally witnessed a major drug transaction. That same week, I was nearly pecked to death by a hawk. I wandered too close to it while it was attacking a pigeon — someone got that on their camera phone, but fortunately I haven’t seen it on YouTube. Also, there’s the man who keeps threatening to take me out once he gets back on his feet. I mean that’s nice and all… but he keeps yelling and cussing when he does it and it’s just disconcerting to get yelled at in the middle of the day about being someone’s winter boo. Long story short, I don’t go to the park anymore.
So this week I watched Sarah Palin’s Alaska and just tried to focus on the beauty of Alaska. Alas, it was not meant to be because this episode was violent, bloody and filled with the nasally voice of Sarah Palin. That woman did not. stop. talking. Even when they went fishing, which even I know is supposed to be a quiet activity. I know that last week we learned that Sarah’s nickname is Juicy, but today I’m going to be calling her Winky, in honor of the moment when I stopped disagreeing with her ideologically, and just started hating her as a woman.
Now who’s having an aneursym??
So if Winky were to write a book about this week’s “adventure,” it would be called Murderous Rage: Reflections on Family, Fish and My Daughter’s Ex.
This week, we get an insider’s look at the exciting details of Winky’s life. She’s up at the ass crack of dawn and because she lives in Alaska, it looks like it’s about high noon. They must all have to sleep in coffins to get a good night’s rest. In my previous life I worked a true night shift for two years (11pm to 9 am), which meant that I had to sleep during the day. It was nearly impossible and I was a cranky, baggy-eyed bitch the entire time. At the end of that stint I got the shakes from my Nyquil withdrawals.
So first stop in Winky’s busy day is a trip to the gym where she takes some sort of class that involves moves like this:
And to remind us that she’s a completely reasonable candidate for political office, she wears these. They lend her a certain gravitas, don’t you think?
Watch your back, Mr. President. She’s got on ankle socks.
Next on the agenda — a trip to the shooting range with Bristol and Silent Todd. Winky just loves the shooting range. She loves it so much that when she was pregnant with Piper, her friends threw her baby shower at the range. “I love tellin’ that story,” she says, because “it gets the liberals all wee-weed up.” Ugh, lady. I don’t even know what your baby talk means. I don’t really care where people hold their private parties… it just seems weird and inappropriate to have a baby shower at a gun range. If I ever get pregnant I probably wouldn’t be at the shooting range eating cake and playing “guess which candy bar we melted in the diaper” while people are shooting loud, deadly weapons nearby. There are just some places where you shouldn’t hold baby showers. This was a valuable lesson that I learned when I tried to hold a friend’s baby shower at a strip club. That was vetoed. I just feel that if you get a group of girlfriends together to party it should either involve alcohol or strippers. Preferably both. But definitely not neither. We ended up having my friend’s baby shower at a classy restaurant. Snooze. I was also not allowed to melt candy bars in diapers. I considered it a failure of an event.
Speaking of failures… we are revoking the “Bristol the Pistol” moniker. That girl’s never shot a gun in her life. She’s all giggly and afraid of the kickback.
Did I hit anything?
When Winky tries to step in and help, Bristol is annoyed. “Mom, take your prom hair back home,” she says. Well. That’s the closest thing we’re gonna have to an “oh, snap!” moment on this show, so I’ll give it to her. Awww, snap Bristol! Nickname restored. She’s right, though. In every scene of this show, Winky looks like she just stepped out of the salon chair. She’s got her Bumpit in place. She’s got her Wet’n’Wild eyeliner going. And she has a perfect manicure even after she spends the day shooting, or climbing, or giving the finger to that nosy neighbor of hers.
But Winky’s got a line she’s been waiting to break out on the public for awhile now, and her daughter’s insults will not deter her from amazing us all with her wit. “Don’t retreat. Just reload,” she says. Good advice. It worked for General Custer. Why not you, Sarah Palin? Why not you.
Yee-haw! Just bagged me a liberal!
Thanks to the magic of editing, that one-liner was enough to help Bristol the Pistol successfully shoot a clay “rabbit,” and Winky declared victory, reminding Bristol to always listen to her mother.
The excitement continues as the Palins drop little Trig off at his grandparents so the rest of the family can go on an overnight trip. Poor little Trig. He gets left out of everything. The rest of the family piles into the RV, because they’re headed south to Homer to go halibut fishing.
Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Sarah Palin to amateur night at Chilkoot Charlie’s, Anchorage’s premiere — and only — comedy club.
“We’re goin’ ta Homer. D’oh. And Homer is the halibut capital of the world. So we’re headin’ down there just for the halibut. <pause> See Alaskans know that joke. I don’t know if other people will.”
I’ll admit… I struggled with that one because I was focused on all the weird noises and facial expressions she was making, rather than the pun. But I got it loud and clear after watching it a second time. It wasn’t really worth the effort….
On the drive down to Homer we’re forced to learn more about the Palin family. Don’t you love hearing about other people’s children? It really makes my night when I get all nice and twisted and then someone walks up to me and starts telling me about how their toddler just discovered his wee wee. Ugh. That shit is uncomfortable. Parents, please stop doing that. If that’s the most interesting thing your child has done then he needs to get a hobby, pronto. Anyway, Winky’s family is beyond the self-discovery phase and we learn that Bristol is the old soul; Middle Child Syndrome sufferer Willow is lazy (a symptom of MCS); and Piper is about to hit that phase where she ceases to be adorable and instead becomes awkward-looking and all, like, whateverrrr.
Then the girls do that thing that girls do where they insult themselves out loud in the hopes that someone else say “what?! no! you’re gorgeous, you’re like the 17th Kardashian sister.” But instead they just end up insulting one another. The Pistol is bummed ‘cause she has no chin. Willow bemoans her own bushy eyebrows. Eventually Winky shuts it down, not because she wants to build up her kids’ self-esteem, but because she’s got words to make up so that she can keep her crazy tweets under 140 characters.
Five hours and 35 tweets later, the Palins make it to Homer, which is a small town on the water. We finally get to meet the good, hard-working Alaskans Winky’s been promising us we’ll meet and they all want to shake her hand. Except for the ones whose boxers are getting all squishy because they get to meet THE Todd Palin, four-time winner of The Iron Dog, the longest, toughest snowmobile race that was evuh raced. Winky is, in fact, quite shocked when a man asks *her* to take a picture of him and Todd. Well this is a first! she cackles.
As they continue their jaunt through Homer with all the kids and camera crew in tow, problem child Willow grumbles: “This is so embarrassing.”
“What?” Winky asks.
“Being with you.” Agreed.
After shaking hands with all their many fans who happened to be in Homer that day, the Palins make their way to the commercial fishing boat they’ll be going on to catch halibut. They board the “Bear” and meet Captain Pat and his wife Barbara. Doesn’t “Cap’n Pat & the Bear” sound like an awesome TV show?
We learn that fishermen are a suspicious people and Cap’n Pat explains that they don’t begin a trip on a Friday and flowers aren’t allowed on board during the trip. Those rules are very… specific. Coincidentally, it’s Thursday, the Palins want to take their trip the next day, and Barbara brought Winky a bouquet of flowers.
Cap’n Pat kicks the Palins and their raggedy bouquet off the boat so he can get going. They’ll meet him out on the water the next day. Before the family turns in for the night, Winky leaves each of them with a few words of wisdom to haunt their dreams.
For Todd: “Today is the first day of the rest of your life.”
For Willow: “The sun’ll come out tomorrow.”
For Bristol: “There’s plenty of fish in the sea.”
I’m guessing there’s a dog-eared copy of The Penguin Book of Cliches somewhere in that RV.
Can anyone who watches this network explain why this guy yells
in all the promos? Too much fondant?
When we come back from commercial break, we’re greeted by a new day and a viewer discretion warning. Bristol and Winky catch a skiff out to Da Bear and climb aboard. Cap’n Pat and his seamen have already set lines and before they haul in the catch o’ the day they explain that Bristol and Winky’s job will be to use clubs to stun the halibut once they’re brought on deck so that the fish won’t bruise themselves while flopping around. Then, they’ll cut the fish near the gills so they’ll bleed out and their flesh will be nice and white and fishy looking. Mmmm… sounds delish, no?
Wears hats the color and shape of lady parts to command respect.
They start pulling in the line and the first catch is… a star fish. Bristol is grossed out. I think you picked the wrong trip to come on, honey, because it’s about to get grosser. They start hauling in the fish and Bristol immediately pussies out, handing the club over to her mom who gleefully, yet ineffectively batters the fish.
Winky explains to us that stunning the fish is the most humane way to kill them. Perhaps when you stun them on the first try. When you have to beat them over and over again, it’s probably not quite as humane. Eventually Bristol manages to knock a few fish around. Winky is very proud of her and wonders what she’s picturing when she’s beating those fish. I think we can all guess what Winky’s picturing.
This is for makin’ me a nana at 44.
Next up they “help” gut the fish and get to hold one of the still-beating hearts in their hands. Then they stuff the fish with ice and put them in storage. On the way back to land, they see a whale, which is very cool and definitely on my bucket list.
While they wait for the fish to be brought on land, Silent Todd and Winky go kayaking. Winky is excited because she thinks that their guide looks like Jesus, so they must be “in good hands.” She should go to the park near my office. There are a bunch of guys there who look like Jesus.
Sexier than Jesus. But not as miraculous.
“What a cool, granola life you got goin’,” Winky says to kayak Jesus. Her words are nice, but her tone says “get a real job and cut your hair filthy hippie.” On the kayaking trip they see bald eagles, sea otters, and jumping fish. I’m sure it would have been great to listen to the sounds of nature, as well, but Winky once again talks nonstop.
When they get back to the docks, the halibut have been brought in and Winky and Bristol head to the processing area to help… process the fish. Their job is to pull out the ice that has been stuffed in the fish and then de-slime them on something called the slime line. I’m not too sure exactly what’s going on here, but it looks like cold, miserable work and I’m sure it smells — disgusting.
“It smells like work!” Winky crows. She tells the other workers on the line how lucky they are to have very hard, physical jobs. I’m getting that aneurysm feeling again. She’s so patronizing.
“I named this one Levi. So, do you enjoy being poor?”
Up next, they guillotine the fish which entails putting them in a machine that chops off the head. The fish is then filleted by hand. See — this is pretty interesting and really, you don’t need any Palins to explain what’s going on. You could just have a show called “Alaska’s Alaska.” When all is said and done, Cap’n Pat and his seamen caught 12,000 pounds of fish worth about $75,000. Winky takes credit for it and demands her cut, but Cap’n Pat just sends her away with some halibut and her entitlement. They cook it after taking the rest of the family clamming.
Winky’s Alaska “spray tan.” *Rimshot*
“What a great way to end up another family adventure in Alaska,” Winky says as they chow down on fish and clams. Hmm… she keeps calling these adventures. By definition, adventures have to be dangerous and exciting, and so far we have seen none of that. These are more like family-friendly activities. You know who had an adventure? Balloon boy and his crazy family. Where’s their show? Or how about that girl whose irresponsible parents let her try to sail around the world by herself? Another legitimate adventure. I like to fish and kayak. Where’s my show? Mark Burnett, you should call me so I can tell you about my idea for “The Sexy Adventures of Cap’n Pat and His Seamen.” It’ll be a hit!
I hope everyone has a fantastic Thanksgiving! May your turkeys be slaughtered in the most humane way possible… unlike this little guy who died with the most obnoxious sound in the world filling his ears.