Polytainment? Entertics? What’s the difference between entertainment and politics?

Thousands waited in line last week in Grand Rapids to catch a glimpse of Sarah Palin signing her book, “Going Rogue.”
Some even waited overnight, camping out like they were buying tickets to a teeny bopper band’s concert.
The problem is, the teeny bopper band could probably rival Palin’s knowledge on many domestic and foreign issues.
This begs the question: Is Palin even a politician anymore?
Or, conversely, is the handsome, smooth-talking Obama?
The line between politics and entertainment has blurred so much that we should have a new word for it. Polytainment? Entertics?
Take your pick.
Ever since those first cameras clicked on the young, tan Kennedy and the sweaty Nixon with a five o’clock shadow at the 1960 presidential debate, style made significant leaps on substance. Politics have been mingling with entertainment.
Would the portly Howard Taft ever be elected again, or would too many argue that he was sending the wrong message to obese children?
How would the tall, depressive, forlorn-looking Abraham Lincoln deal with the flashing bulbs and television interviews?
Wouldn’t FDR still be hiding the effects of his polio from the public?
These fellows, two of whom are our most notable presidents, would no doubt be scrutinized under the media’s microscope. He’s too fat, he’s too depressed, he’s crippled.
More and more, we’re expecting our leaders to be scrubbed, brushed -- on the outside and inside -- and flawless for the cameras. We expect them to have movie star looks and charming families.
What if we could see in the future and we knew a candidate who, if elected, would solve all of our major problems effortlessly. Conflicts in the Middle East would end because we found a new source of renewable energy, which would also help with global warming. People would have affordable health care. This fictitious president would also help find a balance with capitalism and greed, thus stabilizing our economy.
But what if this fictitious president was homely, shy, had a stutter, was overweight and sported a large wart on their nose?
What if the fictitious president drank, smoked, wasn’t married, had no children and cursed when they appeared on television.
Even if we knew this person was going to solve all of our problems, would he or she get elected?
I think not.
Because it’s not just leadership abilities that we seek in our elected officials anymore, it’s an idealistic image of ourselves, the same sort of thing that we look for in entertainment. Politicians and their support staffs create characters for themselves to portray in the ongoing narrative of American politics. They know you’re watching this stuff like a soap opera, and if that’s the game to play to get power, then they’ll play it.
Which brings us to Palin, who represents the worst of this long-building trend. A lot of people in Michigan are drawn in to Palin’s folksy hockey-mom, huntin’ and fishin’ rhetoric.
She’s got former beauty queen looks and a family that resembles many of our own. Like George Bush was regarded before people finally caught on to the sham, she’s someone you could sit down and shoot the bull with.
In short, she’s entertaining. But she’s no serious leader.
Michiko Kakutani, the legendary New York Times book reviewer, wrote in her assessment of “Going Rogue” that McCain’s decision to bring her on to the 2008 election “underscores just how alarmingly expertise is discounted -- or equated with elitism -- in our increasingly democratized era, and just how thoroughly colorful personal narratives overshadow policy arguments and actual knowledge.”
By resigning from her only serious post as governor of Alaska, Palin seems to know this herself.
Instead, she’ll write books, go on television talk shows (unless she gets one for herself) and tour the country in a bus for speaking engagements.
Frankly, I’d rather catch a Jonas Brothers concert.