Senator John McCain (photo) has been able to wear the label, proof-unseen, through this entire election campaign. Perhaps the first major decision of his candidacy, the selection of a vice president, would reveal this maverick we've been hearing about, the one he apparently used to be.
Just hours after Barack Obama's historic acceptance speech in Denver, McCain unleashed a well-coordinated sneak-attack on the Democratic Party candidate's momentum by announcing his choice for running mate, Alaska governor Sarah Palin. The news sent people googling for the hills, creating a one-day spike in search engine usage. Who? Sarah Palin? Where's she from? What's she done? Wiki-wiki-wiki.
The more people learned about her, the less they found. Twenty months as governor of Alaska. Six years as the mayor of her home town--Wasilla, Alaska (population 6,715). A bachelor's degree in journalism, with a minor in political science, from the University of Idaho. A second-place finish in the Miss Alaska beauty pageant. Brief stints as a sportscaster and commercial fisherman. But of course, she towed the company line on abortion, gun control, oil, W's tax cuts, etc.
As puzzling as the choice may seem, one thing is clear: it's anything but the work of a maverick. Mavericks think and act independently. Yet McCain's selection was more reactionary than revolutionary, a "me-too" move if ever there was one. A deliberate attempt to pander to Hillary Clinton voters while adding the illusion of relevance and, well, life to a campaign in quicksand, the way vertical stripes add the illusion of weight loss. A decision he made after having met the woman exactly once.
Maverick? Hardly. Desperate doesn't even serve an adequate descriptor for what amounts to the political equivalent of a one-night stand. But this morning after doesn't involve a walk of shame; instead he's asking the nation to approve of the marriage.
