Sarah Palin Reminds Me Of My Step-Mother. This Is Not a Good Thing.

Am I the only one who recoiled in horror the first time that Sarah Failing winked through the television set at me? Trying to jam a big fat finger on the red button of my libido? Her smile sent tiny razor blades whirling around the living room but that wink just laced powdered bleach across the wounds. I can't be the only one to notice this cheap and transparent ploy.

Apparently not.