ABSTRACT
Sarah Palin jaunted from city to city along the Eastern seaboard as speculation mounted that she might-just might-announce her candidacy for the 2012 Republican presidential nomination. It was spring, 2011, more than a year before the 2012 presidential election, but Palin and her entourage were in high gear. She had just launched her “One Nation” bus tour of American historical landmarks, and Palin was a study in political motion. Here she was, roaring through Washington, D.C. on the back of a HarleyDavidson, clad in a black leather jacket, thundering into town in time for the annual Memorial Day weekend motorcycle ride from the Pentagon to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Palin, the former governor of Alaska and 2008 Republican vice presidential candidate, was accompanied, as always, by a gaggle of reporters, photographers, bloggers, and other members of the mainstream media elite who hung on her every word, parsing, dicing, analyzing, and frequently critiquing what she said or they heard her say. There she was in historic Boston, speaking in that aw-shucks, small-town, goodol’American twang that endeared her to supporters but angered opponents to the point of apoplexy. Standing in the home of Paul Revere, she spontaneously offered up a description of Revere’s storied ride, speaking casually with a lilt in her voice:
He who warned the British that they weren’t going to be taking away our arms, by ringin’ those bells and making sure as he’s riding his horse through town to send those warning shots and bells that we were going to be secure and we were going to be free.
