Palintology
Posted by Dirk on September 7, 2008
One of my new goals in life is to interview Sarah Palin. Now, if you’ve been underground fighting the resistance, don’t have a TV, a phone, an ipod, a radio, hearing, or sight, you may not know of this feisty little gal. Let me explain. Sarah Palin has the distinguished role of being the Governor of Alaska AND the freakishly strange choice for the VP spot on the Republican presidential ticket. She also appears to be a complete bitch.
Nevertheless, I’m always up for a challenge. Unfortunately, I fear I will never have the pleasure to interview Governor Palin, so we’ll pretend, shall we. This is how I picture our interview.
First, I go to the Gap to buy some new duds for the interview. I pick out a nice pair of khakis, a conservative button-down, and some galoshes. These are so I can wade through all the shit while I’m trying to get to the truth. I proudly take my purchase to the counter, where Mindy, the friendly Gap person, smiles and says, “Will that be all today?” I reply that it certainly will. Mindy asks, “What’s the occasion? Why ya gettin’ all dressed up?” I tell Mindy that I’m interviewing Sarah Palin. She immediately slumps over and vomits into one of the blue, plastic Gap bags. “You mean that bitch McCain picked?” Indeed, I say, the very same bitch. Mindy tosses me my bag full of duds and my change. “Aren’t you going to offer me the Gap card so I can save 10% on my purchase?” I ask. “Just get out,” she says, “before I throw up again.”
I leave the mall, drive home, get all dressed up, and leave again for the interview. I had picked a nice cozy spot for the interview, but at the last minute, Palin’s people call and say Sarah has a different idea. Why not conduct the interview at a local gun store? It symbolizes patriotism and diversity, they say. I balk at the idea, saying that sounds bad, and as for the diversity angle, I ask, “You mean the diversity of guns they sell?” I hear the mumblings of voices on the other end, and then Palin’s spokesperson comes back. “Sarah says to fuck off. Sarah says it’s her way or the highway.” I cave in to the pressure, and point the car towards the gun store.
When I arrive, the parking lot is filled with shiny, black Cadillac Escalades. There’s a dead deer on the hood of one, and Lee Greenwood music blasting from another. I park the car and weave through the SUV gauntlet and enter the store. Sarah is standing behind the counter eyeing some armor-piercing ammo and telling the store owner that her credit is good, and to pack up five boxes. “Just Fedex em’ to me. I promise to pay you.” Then with a wink, she adds, “I always keep my promises.”
She moves from behind the counter, and I notice she too is wearing galoshes. This is going to be good, I think to myself.
We sit down in the folding camouflage chairs provided by the store. She stares at me, and my balls immediately curl up inside my stomach.
I start to ask my first question, but it never comes out. Apparently my cover is blown, because just as the air is leaving my lungs, Palin begins to transform.
“Liberal scum!” she yells, pointing a finger that is slowly turning claw-like.
“I’ll burn down your libraries, and you know why, liberal scum? Because we, the chosen people, the people of God, the holy warriors, need more room to drill for oil! Then we’ll hire your liberal children to work the oil fields, and we’ll pay them shit, and they won’t get any benefits! And then….”
She keeps ranting, but she’s gurgling now, her words becoming one, long, high-pitched whine. It’s like a siren calling all her fellow Republican brethren to the slaughter. There are veins popping out of her forehead, and her chest is heaving. Even her bodyguards looked scared.
I realize that I’m screaming like a little girl. This was a bad idea, I think to myself, as I turn to run. Bolting for the door, I feel that claw clasp onto my shoulder, tearing flesh and causing me to drop to my knees.
Palin is staring down at me with bloodshot eyes, tongue flicking back and forth like some bad Linda Blair impersonation.
“You’ll die now,” she gurgles, as she picks up a box of the armor-piercing shells and tosses them into her giant, monster-like mouth. She bites down and the bullets start flying. I’m still kneeling down in front of this beast, but somehow I manage to avoid being hit.
And then it comes to me. Mindy at the Gap had handed me something just before I left the store.
“Take this,” she had said. “You’ll need it.” She had placed her palm on mine, leaving a small, metal, razor-sharp Chinese fighting star in my hand. It was perfect in every way, with one word written in its center: “Hope.”
I begin frantically going through my pockets, and suddenly feel the star dig into my thumb, causing intense pain. I pull it out and throw it at Palin. It sticks right in her veiny forehead. She let’s out an agonizing shriek as she topples backwards into a rack of semi-automatic weapons marked for clearance. Her entire body begins to quiver and shake violently until she suddenly explodes. Sarah Palin guts are everywhere, except her innards are this weird neon red color, like she’s been drinking lots of Big Red.
I stand up, exhausted, and catch sight of her bodyguards who, like me, are covered in Palin goo. I fear this may be it for me, so I put up my hands as if to say, “Look guys, come on. Did you guys know she was that fucking crazy?”
But instead of drawing their 45’s and blasting me to hell, they slowly begin to approach. I try to back up, but there is nowhere to go. Suddenly they’re on me, but instead of beating me to a pulp…….they hug me.
“You just took out the greatest threat this country has ever known,” bodyguard number one says to me, a tear rolling down his cheek. ”She was going to take my home in Misilla if I didn’t become her love slave.”
“Yeah, and she was going to fire me if I didn’t take away all of my kid’s Harry Potter books. She hates magic. Says Jesus is the only magic in the world. What a load of shit!”
“Yeah, that’s why I wore the galoshes,” I reply.
Bodyguard number three is staring down at what’s left of Palin. He’s shaking his head as if he can’t believe it.
“I never thought anything would get her,” he says. Then he turns to me, and asks, “Where did you get that star?”
“Oh,” I reply, “I got it at the Gap. Bought $75 worth of stuff, and this chic gave me that star. Pretty cool, eh?”
“Damn straight,” he says.
We leave the gun store, and pile into one of the Escalades. Bodyguard number two is just about to punch the gas, when he suddenly stops. He hits the eject button on the CD player, tosses the Lee Greenwood compilation out the window, and pops in AC/DC, “Back in Black.”
We spend the rest of our day rocking out while tossing back Lone Star tall boys, dreaming of a future —a future with hope.
