There's Something about Palin. Confessions of a Saraholic.

I admit it, I'm addicted. Not that it's healthy, and I'm very ashamed. Every time I turn on my Laptop, there she is, smiling that vacuous smile, eyes gazing at Yawheh somewhere in the clouds. Possibly with her pager on "hum", kept in a very, very private place.

I can't get enough of her. I get off on my revulsion. She embodies all that I deplore - numbskull comments, cutesy folksy You Betcha's, shallow understanding of virtually everything, confident self-rightous mendacity, christian narcissism and "just-so-story" religiosity, and leading a mindless cult of celebrity. Even so, when she's on the web news, there I click. I can't help myself. I do it over and over.

It's not just me. The press and Palin have a mutually supportive "best frienemy" relationship. Whenever Palin opens her mouth, the press laps it up like my dogs lap up spilled catfood. Then the press catches her in a Palinism, distortion of facts or outright lie, scapegoating or passing blame to someone like a hot potato; the press reports it, gets attention, gives her more attention, she decries the press, the press reports her decrying the press, the articles have more readers (like me), and her followers shower her with more money. Some call this "Sarah Palin-media co-dependency" But really, they're Saraholics. Like me.

For some reason, I look right past the tabloids when they promote Oprah's latest disaster, Angelina's anorexia, Brad's putative return to Jen, Obama's gay lover, Jon minus Kate and the fate of their eight, and the heartbreak of (you name the aging celeb)'s decline and certain death. But Sarah... oh Sarah.

I feel so dirty.