The media comes to Wasilla, home to Vice Presidential hopeful Sarah Palin, and numerous methamphetamine labs. Oh how rustic!

God this is hilarious!

Wasilla, population 7,000, is under a spotlight like never before as America tries to get to know the former mayor. News media from all over the world have been showing up to examine everything from her record at City Hall to who cuts her hair.

Palin returned here Friday, spending a day at home beside Lake Lucille. Outside, the Secret Service watched the woods and the U.S. Coast Guard patrolled the water in a small boat.

The Coast Guard is patrolling little Lake Lucille? Holy crap that is hysterical!

At Tuesday's Wasilla City Council meeting, Councilman Steve Menard told city leaders he's had to disconnect his phone, he gets so many calls.

"There are a lot of people out there who are trying to profit off this situation," he said.

"My two cents are, if you don't have anything nice to say, not that Sarah can't put up for herself -- because we all know that she can -- but if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all," he said.

Well I hate to disappoint you Councilman but I am having a hell of a time finding ANYTHING nice to say. But finding things that are not so "nice", that is a piece of cake.

And as for that whole "there are a lot of people trying to profit off of this situation"? Well you can add your own town to that list:

Mayor Dianne Keller said the city planned to start selling $15 "Home of Sarah Palin" T-shirts on its Web site, which logged 700,000 hits the day of McCain's announcement, according to the city.

I can attest to the fact that Wasilla is an ugly little blemish of a town that started as nothing more then a place to buy gas before continuing up the Parks highway on the way to Fairbanks.

Essentially Wasilla, Alaska is a hokey little city populated by people who feel too crowded in the "big city" hustle and bustle of Anchorage. Eclectic does not even begin to describe them.

My dad used to take me to this bar that was located right between Wasilla and Palmer that was, no shit, called the "Pollock Farm". It was owned by a guy that my father referred to only as "Ski". He was a big husky ex-football coach.

The walls were festooned with polish jokes (which were very popular in the seventies), and the ceiling was covered with bras and panties. In other words the place was sheer class.

It was dirty and filled with picked foods which were in giant jars located all over the top of the bar. They had pickled eggs, pickled sausage, pickles, and one jar that may have actually had a pickled human hand (I never got up the nerve to ask).

My father would drag me to this bar when I was a teenager, and I would sit and read a book, while he conducted his concrete business over dozens of glasses of beer. His customers would show up, and then they would tell off color jokes and drink until the business had been transacted. And then I would drive him home while he urged me to drive faster, and drunkenly related how he should never have divorced my mother, occasionally stopping his journey down memory lane to ask me why didn't I cut my fucking hair.

I have since grown up, and so has Alaska in many ways, but Wasilla is still very much like it was back in the seventies. They may have a coffee shop or two but I am guessing that not too far from where Sarah Palin lives is a bar with sawdust on the floor and panties stapled to the ceiling.