Will Sarah Palin Sue the Internet?

Bill Kurtis, in his television commercials for wireless broadband doohickeys, always exclaims, "I'm Bill Kurtis, and I just found...the Internet" as the end-tag of each 30-second offering.

Sarah Palin and her lawyers have found the Internet, but rather than gaze wondrously at its immense awesomeness, they are threatening to sue it. Also.

Immediately after alleged whack-a-doodle Palin went live from her back yard to inform the world that, in her crazy mixed-up brain, the best way to stay the course was to quit, and golly, thanks to Alaska for electing her to a four year term which she would not complete, and doncha know, since lame ducks don't get anything done, also, but expensive travel at taxpayer expense, she'll be turning this important job over to someone that Alaska didn't elect at all, American news outlets and bloggers went nuts themselves, less over continued Palin knee-jerk hyperbole than out of frustration about being forced to work over a three-day 4th of July weekend.

Damn you, Sarah. We had Johnsonville brats and everything.

Of course, MSNBC and major non-conservative-leaning newspapers and the bloggerati went into full Anna Nicole Smith - Michael Jackson mode to begin wildly flinging speculation about what was really behind the resignation, because not taking a politician's statement at face value is the second thing they teach you at fancy journalism school, right after the proper usage of its, it's, and its'.

Known as the other shoe scenario, talking heads and blogging Twatters ran through a litany of other possible explanations - a full-bore run at the 2012 nomination, another pregnancy (how could you, Todd?), being co-opted by Scientology (how could you, Greta?), the upcoming book....yeah, they could all be true. Not a lot of 24-hour news staying power there, though.

What about a scandal? Survey says...Ding ding ding. 100 people surveyed, and that was their top answer.

A cursory examination of her political career (1992-2002, 2006-2009) revealed a couple of tasty possibilities, including that fancy house on the lake built from the dried bones of Sarah's critics by Todd Palin and a gaggle of born-again, devil-hating beavers. And so people speculated, saying the IRS and Eliot Ness and Patrick Fitzgerald, and Underdog had been examining the relationship between a Wasilla building supply company, the Wasilla white-elephant memorial cost overrun sports complex, and Todd's goatee.

Prowling the fine line between fact and fiction like an Arctic Cat on fresh powder, the media hyped and insinuated and posed statements as questions so as to maintain a defensible position once the depositions started to fly, all of which hurt Sarah's feelings, this naughty politics of destruction, because how can Sarah make it to the top if people keep blowing over the house of cards on which she's standing?

What's a simple Alaska mom who was recently on the presidential ticket to do? Send out the lawyers to threaten people, of course. This is America, even in Alaska. Free speech is only permitted if it supports the media narrative she spent minutes and hours creating.

One person's truth is another person's defamation, and nattily attired Palin legal eagle Thomas Van Flein promised to explore the legal options available, because Todd knows his way around a Home Depot, dammit, and people can't go around saying he doesn't. He goes there all the time, mainly to escape the vortex of batshit crazy that has settled in now that is his wife can't bill Alaskans for the kids' travel expenses and shoes and whatnot.

Not withstanding the free speech clause in the Alaska constitution, or that pesky First Amendment protection that Tom Jefferson and John Adams slipped in at the last minute, Sarah is cranky that people are parsing her words and saying things that hurt her feelings. Since she can't threaten to quit again, there's little left to do but to employ the "I'm rubber - you're glue" defense in an offensive manner.

Good luck with that, Sarah. You're not batshit crazy. You're simply misunderstood.