Sarah Palin nicknames

The Half-Baked Alaskan
Caribou Barbie
Bible Spice
Wasilla Hillbilly
The Chillbilly
Sarah Falin
Dick Cheney in Lipstick
VPILF
Iditabroad
Governor Jesus Camp
Fertilla the Huntress
Secessionist Sarah
Spiro Igloo
Wacko from Wasilla
The Tanya Harding of the Tundra
America's Next Top Caribou Huntress
Danielle Quayle

Our friend from across the pond

While working in Charlotte, N.C. to get out the vote for Obama, I was lucky enough to meet Frank Browne. He's got a great story: a former elected member of Britain's Conservative party, he decided that Obama was the only candidate who could restore America's position in the world. He flew to the U.S. on his own dime and has been working harder and longer than any other volunteer here to turn out the vote. (Read more of his story here.)

This past weekend, he and I hit both ends of the voter spectrum: from a sprawling suburban neighborhood in the afternoon to a inner-city neighborhood in the evening. And no matter how many doors he knocked on, Frank always looked like he was just getting started.

The best part of Frank's story came yesterday (Monday) when Obama made his last-minute stop in Charlotte. While most volunteers were given plum assignments working the rally, Frank was told he wouldn't be allowed to because the team had a special assignment for him. Sure enough, Frank was taken backstage and found himself shaking hands with the candidate. He also walked away with a picture and autograph.

Funny writing, good point

From "The Cowardice of Sarah Palin":

Yeah, she's firing up the wingnut base. Who cares. The wingnut base is the easiest group of people on the planet to fire up. They get fired up when they think gays might steal their marriages. They get fired up when they have to press "one" for English. They get fired up when some black guy gets all uppity and runs for president. They get fired up when their sub-sub-sub-version of Christianity isn't the dominant religious ideal of the nation. Holding Sarah Palin in front of them is like teasing a dog through a fence, but that's about it.

The difficult art of sign-holding

North Carolina polls show the the presidential race suddenly close here, and as a result Barack Obama scheduled a stop in Charlotte.We went, and while we didn't see him in person, we heard his voice echoing off the downtown buildings. Something about change, I think.

The video of his speech is here, and unfortunately there's a guy right behind him who's not really with the program. See if you can spot his mistake.

Remember your first lunchbox?

Lisa tells this story:

I remember my first lunch box, a metal "Addams Family" with clipped in thermos, when I started first grade. I think Sophie is going to remember her first lunch box, too.

I planned to let the girls use simple insulated bags to take their
lunch to preschool, but last night I decided to pick up a couple lunch boxes (when I found them half-price). The girls were so excited when I came home and showed them. They pretended to go to work and to school and come home again. They got pretty wound up and it took them a while to get calmed back down for bedtime. This morning Sophie was all smiles and couldn't wait to go to school.

She was awake before I was and greeted me carrying her lunchbox and saying, "Mom, I'm ready to go to school." And she was so excited about the thermos that she wanted soup for breakfast so she could eat out of the little cup.

What is this site about it?

Thank you, Wordle.

Take that, skanks

One of our main jobs as parents is to protect our kids, whether it be from weirdos at the park or hot stoves or spooky TV shows. Who could have guess that one of our partners in this struggle would be Barbie?

That's right, Barbie (and her friends at Mattel) took Yasmin, Jade, Cloe and Sasha -- better known as Bratz -- to court. And whomped them to the hit copyright infringement tune of $100 million.

If you're lucky enough not to know what Bratz is (and no, I'm not giving them free traffic by linking to their site), here it is: they're four little dolls who wear hooker boots and act like Paris Hilton's spoiled baby sister. They say things like, "I got a new car for my 16th birthday!" They look like tramps. They have an infernal spinoff called Baby Bratz.

So, Barbie comes along and takes one hundred mil away from their conscience-impoverished makers and instantly becomes my new heroine. That, together with the cinematic bomb that was Bratz: The Movie, will hopefully ensure that in a few years, the word "bratz" won't ever be part of my kids lexicon.