Things Could Be Worse

It's been a rough week for investors, people who work for a living, retirees, Republicans and anyone who either has money or needs it.

But after considering recent events, I realized that even though things are bad, they could could be worse.

Zombies could be roaming our streets and shopping malls, for example.

And this one could be president.

A Pit Bull with Lipstick

No one enjoys cheap name-calling and mud-slinging more than me. And the Republicans' new attack dog appears to be an experienced pro at the game. So naturally, I enjoyed Sarah Palin's speech last night.

However, while the far-right is still bloated from ingesting all that red meat, I think it's important to state a few facts about the woman being haled this morning as the "future of the Republican party."

1. Time magazine reports (among other things) that as mayor of Wasilla, Alaska, Palin asked the local librarian how to go about banning books she found offensive. When the librarian refused to go along with her, Palin tried to have her fired.

2. Although she's now presenting herself as an anti-earmark reformer, the LA Times reports that as mayor Palin hired Washington lobbyists to gather pork for Wasilla amounting to $27 million. In her first year as governor, she requested 31 earmarks worth $197.8 million. And that "Bridge to Nowhere"? She's against it now, but was a strong supporter, and kept the $400+ million the state had already received for it.

3. Don't be fooled by Palin's support of families with special needs children. The Huffington Post is reporting that she recently cut educational funding for special needs children by $6 million. There's as-yet unsubstantiated talk that she also slashed funding for an unwed mothers' shelter.

4. The Wall Street Journal reports that Palin is a member of the Assembly of God Church, which practices speaking in tongues, supports the mixture of church and state, and believes that humanity is living in end times. Her minister preached that critics of President Bush would be banished to Hell, and questioned whether those who voted for John Kerry in 2004 would be admitted into Heaven. Though she hasn't been a member since 2002, she still maintains close ties with the church and its minister. Here's a video of her from this past June, addressing the church. In it, she asks congregants to pray for a gas pipeline she describes as "God's will" and says that the Iraq War is a "task that is from God."


5. She may be parroting McCain's "Country First" slogan now, but in the nineties she and her husband were members of the Alaska Independence Party. One of the Party's planks is secession from the United States. Here she is warmly addressing them this year.


6. According to CNN, Palin is under an ethics investigation in Alaska. The case concerns her July firing of a state safety commissioner for refusing to terminate a state trooper who was locked in a custody battle with her sister.

7. That car wash she's part owner in? The Washington Post says she failed to declare it on the form in which gubernatorial candidates must disclose interest in any non-publicly traded company. And then it failed to file its biennial report and pay its requisite fees.

8. Palin blatantly misrepresented the extent of her meager foreign travel during the VP selection process. Though she claimed to have visited Germany, Kuwait and Ireland (three hotbeds of international tension) the Huffington Post has since reported that the trip to Ireland was a refueling layover only.

9. Wikipedia states that pit bulls are recognized as dangerous and unpredictable dogs, often valued for their "macho" reputations and fighting abilities. They are responsible for one third of all dog-bite fatalities, and have been banned in 12 countries and 24 cities in the United States.

Day 16 - Ogden, UT to Denver, CO

Big Truck Country

Dick Cheney is from Wyoming, and this should have been my first clue that I would neither feel welcome or enjoy my time there, even if I was just driving through it. But I had no idea it would go down as the single worst driving experience of my 4000-mile journey.

Days earlier, when I told people at World Horror that I'd be driving from Salt Lake City to Denver, they all recommended taking I-70 east, through Utah, instead of I-80, through Wyoming. But I'm an Iowa boy, and grew up with I-80, so I felt I could trust it.

Southern Wyoming borrows a lot of charm from northern Utah, but once those first 30 miles or so are in your rearview mirror, it takes on a whole other feel.

The first indication were the great plumes of smoke or steam I saw rising off in the distance. They looked like huge fires, burning somewhere just past the horizon, but are turned out to be a cluster of factories.

Second, it seems Wyoming doesn't believe in plowing its roads, because even though it had snowed two days earlier, the interstate in Wyoming was covered in snow and ice and sand and dirt.

Third, semi-trucks outnumber regular cars by about 20:1 on this stretch of road. Now I know, from all the billboards I've seen on this trip, that "Trucks bring good things!" -- things from faraway places where wages are lower, things that are vital to our always-low-prices, disposable culture and unsustainable way of life. And I know semi-drivers are regular people just like you and me who have a job to do and only want to get it done so that they can go home to their fat wives and ugly children.

But the trucks in Wyoming were some of the worst-behaved road bullies I've ever encountered. Sometimes they passed me going 80 miles an hour; at others they pulled out in front of me with no warning and drove just 45. And they traveled together in packs of 40 or 50 at a time, going down the road in long, road-hogging lines, looking like the world's fastest, ugliest parade.

And every time I found myself beside or behind one of these trucks, its tires threw up great sprays of the aforementioned snow and ice and sand and dirt, along with a few rocks. Believe me, this shit will mess up your car and leave its hood looking like the surface of the moon.

All of this goes on for about 350 miles, leading up to and away from the continental divide. It's a white-knuckled driving adventure not for the faint of heart. Or me. Ever, ever again. If I ever head west again, I will drive around Wyoming. It was that bad.

On the bright side, however, I did find a state to hate more than Texas.

A few miles past Laramie -- which is a gray, muddy pit populated by people who seem well adapted to the environment -- I turned on to I-25, south to Denver. Almost immediately, the sky and road cleared, and from there it was just a couple hours more to the home of my former college roommate, Daren, and his wife, Becky.

Daren and Becky were great hosts, and provided me with a terrific meal along with no small amount of vodka, which I definitely needed. Unfortunately, I got sick the next morning -- the achy, icky, sore throat, stuffy nose kind of sick. Not wanting to pass it on to them, I left to head further east.

Truth be told, I was more than a little homesick as well, and thought I might be able to drive the thousand miles between me and Chicago in one day. But this did not happen.

Day 9 - Cedar City, UT to Salt Lake City, UT

The Mormons
I don't remember anything about the drive to Salt Lake City. But I remember touring the Mormon Temple grounds once we got there.

If you crossed a really devout Christian church with a very successful corporation, you'd end up with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

Don't kid yourself that the Mormons are a glassy-eyed bunch of cultists who can't chew gum and praise Jesus at the same time. These people have their act -- collectively and individually -- together. They're smart and powerful and have a lot of money behind their cause and are more than likely staunch Republicans, too.

Which can put a couple of middle-aged alterna-lifestylers from Chicago who are just touring Temple Square for laffs a bit on edge.

Everyone was nice. Nothing was out of place. Everything worked. The men all wear suits and white suits and ties; the women all dress just as conservatively. All the buildings had video screens and interactive exhibits and audiovisual delights everywhere you looked. It was all religious, but high-tech and a bit futuristic, like I've always imagined the Republic of Gilead is in Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale.

Visitors are encouraged -- by every employee -- to take the guided tour, and Jonathan and I soon found ourselves starting a chaperoned walk about the grounds.

First stop, the just-a-few-years-old Convention Center, which is where the Church holds it regular big meetings. This picture is just a small slice of it. The Center has 21,000 seats, and I think one of our guides said it was the largest auditorium in North America. A little fact-checking could verify that statement, but I do not doubt the truth. The place is enormous, and busts and paintings of Bible scenes and Church notables are everywhere.

Next stop is the North Visitors center, where sightseers are walked up a spiral ramp leading to a large domed room. A white statue of Jesus stands in the center, the dome around and above him painted with pictures of the Earth and Moon, planets and galaxies and, inexplicably, little fluffy clouds. It's Jesus in Space.

This is where the tour -- which up to this point was pretty low-pressure on the sales front -- got serious. We were seated on benches looking up at Jesus. Our guides kindly asked us to refrain from taking pictures and to open our hearts to a special message from Christ -- then kindly interrupted one woman who was too busy taking pictures to hear what they'd just said.

Then the lights dimmed and Jesus spoke. I don't remember exactly what He said. His voice boomed out from hidden speakers with a message of love and family, and the whole time I was sure the Mormons were beaming a secret signal beneath the audio, something I'd be powerless to resist.

Then it was over and the lights came back up, and instead of filing all of us into a giant processing center for debriefing and assignment of our new identities, we were escorted back down the ramp without further incident. We saw the Tabernacle, where the Choir lives, and then received cards onto which we could write our addresses and phone number, or those of our enemies.

And then it was done.

Jonathan and I looked around for a couple hours more. Each of us had a somewhat probing question about the Mormon faith. Jonathan's had something to do with what I think he called the apostolic division; I wanted to know what's up with the magic underwear. But each time we worked up our nerve to ask someone, something would happen to divert their attention. Once, one of our guides ran into some people she hadn't seen in years. Another time, the Elder I'd just introduced myself to had to answer the phone. It was like God knew we were both troublemakers and wasn't having any of it.

One of the creepiest things about it for me were seeing these groups of men -- all in suits and ties and white shirts -- participating in what looked like very private conversations. Some were young, some were middle-aged or older, but all of them were so clean cut they looked like you could eat off them. It was a bit like walking past the five biggest executives at the company you work for as they discuss the issues right after a big meeting -- you get the feeling they're making decisions that will affect your future and yet, somehow, it's still none of your business.

The Mormon Church is interesting. On the whole, they're as Christian as they come, no question there. I'm all for their support of the family (as far as what I know about it, which isn't much) and I think there's something fascinating about a uniquely American religion with its roots in the pioneering spirit and the kind of determination it took to settle this great land.

Yeah, there are some things that don't quite make sense. The golden book from which Joseph Smith translated the Book of Mormon conveniently disappeared, along with his cohort in the Church's founding. (He later came back, yet no one really talks about him much.) There's the whole alcohol/caffeine thing and the special garments.

But these things aren't that different from Buddha finding enlightenment under a tree or Moses parting the Red Sea. They're things you have to take on faith, and that, it seems, is the whole point to begin with.

Oh, and Whew

Mitt Romney dropped out of the race today, so there's one less nightmare to worry about.

For now.

My Nightmare Republican Ticket

Mitt Romney for President, with Mike Huckabee as his Vice Presidential running mate.

Pundits are speculating that Huckabee is gunning for a VP spot on the ticket with his string of Southern wins in last night's primaries.

And there's talk that Romney could still get the nomination if conservative resistance to John McCain continues to grow.

If that happens, and they somehow win, get out your copies of The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood, because they're going to become survival manuals.