Here's what I don't understand. A lot of us, me included, have "cribbed-sheeted". (I have invented a verb for my dramatic purpose.) Now some of us have been caught; some of us have not. But shame on those of us who cannot admit at some point that we have done something like that.

Fine, or as my stepson says "Whatever" (just before he needs a disciplinary discussion behind the woodshed.) What is with the high horse? I cannot believe it, the Princess of the Far North scribbled a crib sheet on her left palm.

Get over it. Good for her. I never thought of that..I was shackled to my I-Phone and my tele-prompter for my cues. But my I-Phone got dropped and my teleprompter fell over...but no one erased my hand.

You know there is something refreshing about a palm crib sheet. I learned how to do it in 8th grade. I was outed by my Physics teacher in 9th grade; shame on me.....

When all is said and done, this is what matters about this really petty, liberally-generated focus on form and not substance:

My words are on my palm. I cannot delete them. I cannot erase them. I stand by them.

Please read my words.

These words I did not need to have written:

This is my country, the land of the home and the free. This is my country and that is all that matters.

I could be wrong; I have been before.