May Your Life Be Narrated by Sarah Palin
"He wearily rises from his bed and begins the latest of countless treks to the bathroom. And he's going to make water regardless of what the Miss Daisys of the world say..."
To me, the most vicious imprecation one can bestow upon any gun clutcher, homphobe, Teabagger and garden variety right wing nut job is to have Sarah Palin narrate their lives. Think about it: Every time one makes a misspelled sign demanding the gubmint take its hands off your Medicare, stalk a Little League baseball game with your semiauto or show up at the state capital protesting the ratification of gay marriage one would hear that semi-screech of an over-the-hill-cheerleader voice saying,
"...and there he goes, by golly, boldly climbing the Denali of liberal opposition, onward, Christian soldier to refudiate the gay agenda's agenda to redefine marriage. Adam and Steve, beware, you betcha..."
Maybe the half-full auditorium that heard Bible Spice redefine the Christian sacrament of baptism as a form of torture felt they could endure Palin within the mercifully brief time she was on the stage. But I defy any of them to have this Special Needs Klondike Queen narrate their every move until their own End of Days.
Because Sarah Palin is that Church Lady that just won't go away, good only for squeezing out a few extra parishioners at the annual bake sale "("A free Derringer for the lucky one who buys the special banana bread"). The older she gets and the deeper she slides into obsolescence and obscurity, the less sense she makes. An MRI would reveal Sarah Palin's brain now resembles a Scrabble game nuked by a neutron bomb, the letters intact but jumbled beyond any intellectual parsing and irradiated with terminal stupidity.
Or, as the inimitable TBogg put it in his bassetty best snark, "Sarah Palin is ‘this close’ to doing face-painting for tips at your next garage sale."
Because if Sarah Palin didn't exist then the Teabagger Powers That Be would've had to invent her, some garbler of words who does with the English language what Jack the Ripper did to East End prostitutes. Someone has to throw the red meat to the masses because, after all, everyone needs a spokesman and if your interests aren't reflected in your elected officials, then we have to prop up our own leaders as little girls stage and position stuffed animals at their own tea parties (or what Mitt Romney calls "Cabinet meetings" with his grandchildren's stuffed animals in La Jolla).
Except this one particular fluff-headed participant is like a Teddy Ruxpin with the original tape removed and replaced with right wing talking points after being run through a blender.
And the stupid is there, the demand for people like Palin is there, riotously flinging their money (albeit in smaller and smaller numbers) begging to buy the fear that is all the neo-fascist movement in this country has to sell. They want to be told that Obama is coming for their guns, although he hasn't made a single move to do that in going on five and a half years in office, they want to be told that census takers are just advance scouts for concentration camps and that Hannibal Lecter had the right idea all along by eating one, that fluoridated water, energy-efficient light bulbs and vaccinations are evil, eviiiil, and that the Founding Fathers named the Executive Mansion "the White House" because they never meant for a black man to get elected President.
And if the NRA's recently-concluded convention showed us anything, it's that they're dedicated believers in Sharron Angle's "second amendment remedies", the panacea for all our liberal ills ranging from gay marriage to the anonymous "haters" who audaciously put at a higher premium keeping their children alive than guns and ammo profits.
And Sarah Palin proved, to the rue of conservative Christians, that nothing is too sacred to be weaponized in the name of hatred and paranoia, an inexplicable state of mind shared by many who own all the guns and keep electing rich, white Republican men to represent them.
And to them I say, may Sarah Palin narrate your every move all 8760 hours a year.