There's an irony to all of this in that Sarah Palin herself is as non-feminist as you can get.
What is right for Fashion Week, a place where a visible nipple is an accessory, does not gain a nod of approval by the Anna Wintours of small town America.
The accomplished Barbara Walters is not that different from the beleaguered little girl: a victim and a beneficiary of the glitz and glamour of showbiz.
Times are hard, and our trusted TV hosts, who should know better, are becoming unglued.
I am suggesting a HuffPost confessional right here and now, to assuage you from last week's transfat snack or genital Xerox copies at work. We promise not to tell.
The poor guy, after thirty-some years had probably just started thinking; "well, dodged a bullet on that one."
The Reality-TV mini-series we call the Presidential Debates is running out of juice. Same questions, same answers endlessly re-looped as the media-candidate interview process grinds on.
Americans must not be the living dead. We owe it to the blood of our past and our country's future to acknowledge folly whenever it tries to infect humanity's minds.