I invite you to feast your eyes on the ultra-adorable sight of Little Babe snuggling with our Pomeranians --Alfie and Nala.
Alfie, the blond pooch on the right, holds the exalted position of top dog in our family. Eight years ago, he joined our clan as Middle Babe's bat mitzvah present. Nala, the cocoa-colored little lass on the left who is actually smiling into the camera, joined us in July as Little Babe's bar mitzvah gift.
Delighted with Alfie's sweet nature, we went back to his breeder, seeking a pup from the same mishpocha. Our timing was perfect. Nala is Alfie's half-sister. They share a dad, a noble blond Pomeranian named Gizmo.
Nala is five months old. One of a litter of three girls. (Yes, at this point, it is entirely appropriate to say, "Awwwwwwwww.")
Anyway, aside from showing off my youngest child and our dogs, the reason for posting this picture is to make a point about Sarah Palin, that annoyingly shallow Jane Sixpack faux Hockey Mom semi-literate wind-up doll who managed to redeem herself from utter national ridicule this past Thursday night by simply not drooling all over her black suit.
And the point is that though she has alluded to herself as Pit Bull-like, the more apt dog analogy for her would be Pomeranian.
I know that must sound shocking coming from a Pomeranian owner, but you see, the kind of Pom I am talking about is not, heaven-forbid, like my own -- who overflow with love, good humor and intelligence, who run up to strangers in the hope that they will merit a pat, who greet us at the door with sweet little yips of joy and ample licks of love, who figure out how to break out of locked rooms due to their canine ingenuity.
No, the kind of Pomeranian that Sarah Palin resembles is the other kind; those horribly yappy, deceptively fluffy creatures who will bite you viciously if you venture too close, who make up in nastiness what they lack in intelligence.
We have such a Pomeranian living in our building. His name is Axel and even his owners concede that he is mean to the core. Because of that admission we all feel a measure of compassion towards them.
Axel, a fat blur of brown and black fur, tries to attack Alfie and Nala every time they share the elevator. He nipped at Little Babe when he innocently bent down to pet him back when we were naive new tenants. As a result of his aggression, he is shunned by all the dogs and owners on our block.
In my experience, Pomeranians come in only two varieties: Alfie/Nala or Axel.
Fortunately, it seems that the former is far more common. The problem is that the cute and fluffy appearance of the Axel Poms makes them much more dangerous than, say, Pit Bulls. When one sees a Pit Bull approaching, an internal alarm tends to go off, while most people will assume that a Pomeranian is benevolent until it tries to bite your hand off.
Watching Sarah Palin's behavior over the past five weeks -- especially her ugly character assassination attempts of this past weekend where she questioned Obama's patriotism and tried to brand him a terrorist by proxy -- it is clear that she is a Axel Pomeranian.
This past Thursday night, emerging from a whipping by the media after her sheer idiocy was revealed in candid interviews, then given a crash course in Vice Presidential literacy for the three days prior to the debate, Sarah Palin stood before the American people, all coiffed and cutesy and fluffy and winky, exuding a desperate plea as pungent as body odor, "O, American People! Like me! Like me!!!Like me!!!"
Word is that Gwen Ifill was warned by the McCain camp not to ask challenging follow-up questions so Palin managed to get through the debate avoiding answering questions directly. Joe Biden was on his best behavior so that he would not be seen as bullying the little lady from Alaska.
So, unbelievably enough, Sarah Palin, who is running for the office of Vice President of the United States, ended up being treated as a defenseless little Pomeranian. Given a stage to perform upon, she pulled out her stomach-churning Palinisms, her "you betchas!" and her perky can-do vocab. She wagged her tail winningly, yet the minute she came down from the podium, Sarah went on a yappy attack, filling in with nastiness what she lacks in substance.
Behind her Miss Alaska smiles, her "serious" spectacles and her bogus claim that she represents the simple, homespun folk of this nation, Sarah Palin represents nothing. She has absolutely nothing to say other than that she and John McCain are the most mavericky team of mavericks to hit Washington, DC. Yeah, and she's a total Washington outsider. The new cowgirl who rode into town on the back of a moose she just shot with her own gun! Darn tootin'!
Fortunately, the American public is not as stupid as Sarah Palin's mythical version of Main Street, Wasilla. And just as West 116th Street between Amsterdam and Morningside -- my personal Main Street -- has learned the true nature of Axel the Pomeranian and decided to shun him, so too, our nation is learning the true nature of Sarah Palin... and that our national security depends on shunning her breed.
For it is not Pit Bull.
But it certainly is canine. Of the female variety.
Alfie, the blond pooch on the right, holds the exalted position of top dog in our family. Eight years ago, he joined our clan as Middle Babe's bat mitzvah present. Nala, the cocoa-colored little lass on the left who is actually smiling into the camera, joined us in July as Little Babe's bar mitzvah gift.
Delighted with Alfie's sweet nature, we went back to his breeder, seeking a pup from the same mishpocha. Our timing was perfect. Nala is Alfie's half-sister. They share a dad, a noble blond Pomeranian named Gizmo.
Nala is five months old. One of a litter of three girls. (Yes, at this point, it is entirely appropriate to say, "Awwwwwwwww.")
Anyway, aside from showing off my youngest child and our dogs, the reason for posting this picture is to make a point about Sarah Palin, that annoyingly shallow Jane Sixpack faux Hockey Mom semi-literate wind-up doll who managed to redeem herself from utter national ridicule this past Thursday night by simply not drooling all over her black suit.
And the point is that though she has alluded to herself as Pit Bull-like, the more apt dog analogy for her would be Pomeranian.
I know that must sound shocking coming from a Pomeranian owner, but you see, the kind of Pom I am talking about is not, heaven-forbid, like my own -- who overflow with love, good humor and intelligence, who run up to strangers in the hope that they will merit a pat, who greet us at the door with sweet little yips of joy and ample licks of love, who figure out how to break out of locked rooms due to their canine ingenuity.
No, the kind of Pomeranian that Sarah Palin resembles is the other kind; those horribly yappy, deceptively fluffy creatures who will bite you viciously if you venture too close, who make up in nastiness what they lack in intelligence.
We have such a Pomeranian living in our building. His name is Axel and even his owners concede that he is mean to the core. Because of that admission we all feel a measure of compassion towards them.
Axel, a fat blur of brown and black fur, tries to attack Alfie and Nala every time they share the elevator. He nipped at Little Babe when he innocently bent down to pet him back when we were naive new tenants. As a result of his aggression, he is shunned by all the dogs and owners on our block.
In my experience, Pomeranians come in only two varieties: Alfie/Nala or Axel.
Fortunately, it seems that the former is far more common. The problem is that the cute and fluffy appearance of the Axel Poms makes them much more dangerous than, say, Pit Bulls. When one sees a Pit Bull approaching, an internal alarm tends to go off, while most people will assume that a Pomeranian is benevolent until it tries to bite your hand off.
Watching Sarah Palin's behavior over the past five weeks -- especially her ugly character assassination attempts of this past weekend where she questioned Obama's patriotism and tried to brand him a terrorist by proxy -- it is clear that she is a Axel Pomeranian.
This past Thursday night, emerging from a whipping by the media after her sheer idiocy was revealed in candid interviews, then given a crash course in Vice Presidential literacy for the three days prior to the debate, Sarah Palin stood before the American people, all coiffed and cutesy and fluffy and winky, exuding a desperate plea as pungent as body odor, "O, American People! Like me! Like me!!!Like me!!!"
Word is that Gwen Ifill was warned by the McCain camp not to ask challenging follow-up questions so Palin managed to get through the debate avoiding answering questions directly. Joe Biden was on his best behavior so that he would not be seen as bullying the little lady from Alaska.
So, unbelievably enough, Sarah Palin, who is running for the office of Vice President of the United States, ended up being treated as a defenseless little Pomeranian. Given a stage to perform upon, she pulled out her stomach-churning Palinisms, her "you betchas!" and her perky can-do vocab. She wagged her tail winningly, yet the minute she came down from the podium, Sarah went on a yappy attack, filling in with nastiness what she lacks in substance.
Behind her Miss Alaska smiles, her "serious" spectacles and her bogus claim that she represents the simple, homespun folk of this nation, Sarah Palin represents nothing. She has absolutely nothing to say other than that she and John McCain are the most mavericky team of mavericks to hit Washington, DC. Yeah, and she's a total Washington outsider. The new cowgirl who rode into town on the back of a moose she just shot with her own gun! Darn tootin'!
Fortunately, the American public is not as stupid as Sarah Palin's mythical version of Main Street, Wasilla. And just as West 116th Street between Amsterdam and Morningside -- my personal Main Street -- has learned the true nature of Axel the Pomeranian and decided to shun him, so too, our nation is learning the true nature of Sarah Palin... and that our national security depends on shunning her breed.
For it is not Pit Bull.
But it certainly is canine. Of the female variety.
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