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Title: Bachmann, Palin should just admit gaffes, then move on
Source: Chicago Sun Times
URL Source: http://www.suntimes.com/news/roeper ... admit-gaffes-then-move-on.html
Published: Jun 30, 2011
Author: Richard Roeper
Post Date: 2011-06-30 11:37:30 by go65
Keywords: None
Views: 28619
Comments: 65

It’s the scramble-back that makes you look insecure, stubborn and not all that bright.

Does it really matter that Michele Bachmann got her John Waynes mixed up and said she shared a hometown with John Wayne when in fact it was John Wayne Gacy?

“John Wayne was from Waterloo, Iowa. That’s the kind of spirit that I have, too.”

In fact, it was John Wayne Gacy who lived in Waterloo, whereas John Wayne, the actor, was born about 150 miles away, in the Iowa town of Winterset.

Not a sane person in the world jumped on the gaffe to say, “Oh my God, she’s trying to align herself with the Killer Clown!” But the mainstream-lamestream media pounced on the gaffe with unbridled glee, just as they did when Sarah Palin couldn’t name the periodicals she consumed.

The day after Bachmann’s verbal misstep, she appeared on CNN and said, “People can make mistakes and I wish I could be perfect every time I say something, but I can’t.”

Not a bad way to deflect the minor distraction. But Bachmann didn’t stop there. She opted for the scramble-back defense, in which the candidate and the candidate’s team scramble back, huddle up and scour the Internet for research that kinda-sorta backs up an erroneous claim.

“John Wayne’s parents’ first home was in Waterloo, Iowa, and he was from Iowa,” said Bachmann.

Um, OK.

This is the same sort of scramble-back tactic employed by Sarah Palin after Palin said Paul Revere “warned the British that they weren’t gonna be takin’ away our arms by ringing those bells and making sure he’s riding his horse through town to send those warning shots and bells that we were going to be sure and we were going to be free, and we were going to be armed.”

Of course, Palin meant Revere warned the American colonists, not the British — and the rest of those ad-libbed comments hardly consist of rock-solid history — but it’s not the blunder of all time. It’s not as if Palin had said Paul Revere “not only warned the British but was a member of the greatest rock and roll band of the Sixties, Paul Revere and the Raiders.”

But instead of correcting the record, Palin scrambled back and came out sounding as if she’d just emerged from an all-night study session with a high school history teacher.

“I didn’t mess up about Paul Revere,” she said. “Here’s what Paul Revere did. He warned the Americans that the British were coming. Part of his ride was to warn the British that were there that ‘hey, you’re not gonna succeed.’ ”

Countered James Cross Giblin, author of The Many Rides of Paul Revere, in an interview on ABC News: “She was basically wrong. . . . His mission certainly was not to warn the British. It was to get the message to the revolutionaries in Concord.”

Asked if Palin did not get the basic facts right, Giblin replied, “No she did not.”

Some Palin fans even tried to revise history on Wikipedia. Better to alter the facts than to admit our gal is wrong!

Now that’s a real scramble-back.

A founding youngster?

When ABC’s George Stephanopoulos challenged Michele Bachmann’s claim that the Founding Fathers “worked tirelessly to end slavery” and noted that “Jefferson and Washington were slaveholders and slavery didn’t end until the Civil War,” Bachmann countered that John Quincy Adams “tirelessly worked throughout his life to make sure we did in fact one day eradicate slavery.”

Not a good scramble-back, considering John Quincy Adams wasn’t one of the Founding Fathers and was all of 9 years old when the Revolutionary War began.

When Barack Obama made his infamous “57 states” gaffe in 2008, he owned up and made fun of himself later the very same day, noting, “I understand I said there were 57 states today. It’s a sign that my numeracy is getting a little, um . . . ”

It was better for Obama to just admit the mistake than to scramble back and say, “Look, there ARE 57 states. We have the 50 states, plus we’re in a state of confusion, a state of anguish, a state of concern, a state of uncertainty, a state of economic crisis — but also a state of hope and a state of change, and I state right now I’m gonna bring that hope and change to America!”

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Begin Trace Mode for Comment # 3.

#3. To: go65 (#0)

CAT FIGHT!!!

Can you imagine if Palin and Bachmann collaborated on a book of US history?

war  posted on  2011-06-30   11:48:25 ET  Reply   Untrace   Trace   Private Reply  


Replies to Comment # 3.

#12. To: war, go65 (#3)

Can you imagine if Palin and Bachmann collaborated on a book of US history?

Here is a cutie for ya.... tell me if you remember where it came from:

"Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and pretty as you can and give me all your attention for a minute or two. There -- that is it. That is the way good little boys and girls should do. I see one little girl who is looking out of the window -- I am afraid she thinks I am out there somewhere -- perhaps up in one of the trees making a speech to the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how good it makes me feel to see so many bright, clean little faces assembled in a place like this, learning to do right and be good." And so forth and so on. It is not necessary to set down the rest of the oration. It was of a pattern which does not vary, and so it is familiar to us all.

The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of fights and other recreations among certain of the bad boys, and by fidgetings and whisperings that extended far and wide, washing even to the bases of isolated and incorruptible rocks like Sid and Mary. But now every sound ceased suddenly, with the subsidence of Mr. Walters' voice, and the conclusion of the speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude.

A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event which was more or less rare -- the entrance of visitors: lawyer Thatcher, accompanied by a very feeble and aged man; a fine, portly, middle-aged gentleman with iron-gray hair; and a dignified lady who was doubtless the latter's wife. The lady was leading a child. Tom had been restless and full of chafings and repinings; conscience-smitten, too -- he could not meet Amy Lawrence's eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he saw this small new-comer his soul was all ablaze with bliss in a moment. The next moment he was "showing off" with all his might -- cuffing boys, pulling hair, making faces -- in a word, using every art that seemed likely to fascinate a girl and win her applause. His exaltation had but one alloy -- the memory of his humiliation in this angel's garden -- and that record in sand was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness that were sweeping over it now.

The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr. Walters' speech was finished, he introduced them to the school. The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage -- no less a one than the county judge -- altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon -- and they wondered what kind of material he was made of -- and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he might, too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away -- so he had travelled, and seen the world -- these very eyes had looked upon the county court-house -- which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which these reflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiar with the great man and be envied by the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the whisperings:

"Look at him, Jim! He's a going up there. Say -- look! he's a going to shake hands with him -- he is shaking hands with him! By jings, don't you wish you was Jeff?"

Mr. Walters fell to "showing off," with all sorts of official bustlings and activities, giving orders, delivering judgments, discharging directions here, there, everywhere that he could find a target. The librarian "showed off" -- running hither and thither with his arms full of books and making a deal of the splutter and fuss that insect authority delights in. The young lady teachers "showed off" -- bending sweetly over pupils that were lately being boxed, lifting pretty warning fingers at bad little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlemen teachers "showed off" with small scoldings and other little displays of authority and fine attention to discipline -- and most of the teachers, of both sexes, found business up at the library, by the pulpit; and it was business that frequently had to be done over again two or three times (with much seeming vexation). The little girls "showed off" in various ways, and the little boys "showed off" with such diligence that the air was thick with paper wads and the murmur of scufflings. And above it all the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon all the house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own grandeur -- for he was "showing off," too.

There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters' ecstasy complete, and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and exhibit a prodigy. Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough -- he had been around among the star pupils inquiring. He would have given worlds, now, to have that German lad back again with a sound mind.

And now at this moment, when hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came forward with nine yellow tickets, nine red tickets, and ten blue ones, and demanded a Bible. This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. Walters was not expecting an application from this source for the next ten years. But there was no getting around it -- here were the certified checks, and they were good for their face. Tom was therefore elevated to a place with the Judge and the other elect, and the great news was announced from headquarters. It was the most stunning surprise of the decade, and so profound was the sensation that it lifted the new hero up to the judicial one's altitude, and the school had two marvels to gaze upon in place of one. The boys were all eaten up with envy -- but those that suffered the bitterest pangs were those who perceived too late that they themselves had contributed to this hated splendor by trading tickets to Tom for the wealth he had amassed in selling whitewashing privileges. These despised themselves, as being the dupes of a wily fraud, a guileful snake in the grass.

The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as the superintendent could pump up under the circumstances; but it lacked somewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellow's instinct taught him that there was a mystery here that could not well bear the light, perhaps; it was simply preposterous that this boy had warehoused two thousand sheaves of Scriptural wisdom on his premises -- a dozen would strain his capacity, without a doubt.

Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see it in her face -- but he wouldn't look. She wondered; then she was just a grain troubled; next a dim suspicion came and went -- came again; she watched; a furtive glance told her worlds -- and then her heart broke, and she was jealous, and angry, and the tears came and she hated everybody. Tom most of all (she thought).

Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his breath would hardly come, his heart quaked -- partly because of the awful greatness of the man, but mainly because he was her parent. He would have liked to fall down and worship him, if it were in the dark. The Judge put his hand on Tom's head and called him a fine little man, and asked him what his name was. The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out:

"Tom."

"Oh, no, not Tom -- it is --"

"Thomas."

"Ah, that's it. I thought there was more to it, maybe. That's very well. But you've another one I daresay, and you'll tell it to me, won't you?"

"Tell the gentleman your other name, Thomas," said Walters, "and say sir. You mustn't forget your manners."

"Thomas Sawyer -- sir."

"That's it! That's a good boy. Fine boy. Fine, manly little fellow. Two thousand verses is a great many -- very, very great many. And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there is in the world; it's what makes great men and good men; you'll be a great man and a good man yourself, some day, Thomas, and then you'll look back and say, It's all owing to the precious Sunday-school privileges of my boyhood -- it's all owing to my dear teachers that taught me to learn -- it's all owing to the good superintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me a beautiful Bible -- a splendid elegant Bible -- to keep and have it all for my own, always -- it's all owing to right bringing up! That is what you will say, Thomas -- and you wouldn't take any money for those two thousand verses -- no indeed you wouldn't. And now you wouldn't mind telling me and this lady some of the things you've learned -- no, I know you wouldn't -- for we are proud of little boys that learn. Now, no doubt you know the names of all the twelve disciples. Won't you tell us the names of the first two that were appointed?"

Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish. He blushed, now, and his eyes fell. Mr. Walters' heart sank within him. He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplest question -- why did the Judge ask him? Yet he felt obliged to speak up and say:

"Answer the gentleman, Thomas -- don't be afraid."

Tom still hung fire.

"Now I know you'll tell me," said the lady. "The names of the first two disciples were --"

"David and Goliah!"

buckeroo  posted on  2011-07-02 11:44:42 ET  Reply   Untrace   Trace   Private Reply  


End Trace Mode for Comment # 3.

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