What is the single worst sentence in Sarah Palin's Going Rogue: An American Life? According to Slate's Going Rogue index, it comes on Page 102:
"As the soles of my shoes hit the soft ground, I pushed past the tall cottonwood trees in a euphoric cadence, and meandered through willow branches that the moose munched on."
Michiko Kakutani of the New York Times didn't have to read past the first paragraph for her nomination:
"I breathed in an autumn bouquet that combined everything small-town America with rugged splashes of the Last Frontier."
Do you think you can write like Sarah Palin?
Write a sentence that could be mistaken for one from her book. A single sentence of fewer than 150 words. Send your entry to firstname.lastname@example.org by 11/25.
(Does it still count as an "Evening" in Paradelle if I'm typing at 3:41 AM but I still haven't gone to sleep? I'm thinking, Yes.)