Sarah Palin Has Twelve Things to Do Today
- Spring out of bed. Wake up husband by filling the room with the brightness of her smile. Kneel and pray that her family will be kept safe from witches, that homosexuals will renounce their war against God, and that Jewish people will take Jesus into their hearts.
- Sit down for an hour with the day’s briefing book, The Little Bill Who Grew Up and Became a Law. Enjoy this story a little better than yesterday’s book, The Three Branches of Government: Checks, Balances, and How to Get What You Want.
- Get ready for the first rally of the morning. Wink into mirror repeatedly. Repeat new one-liners for handlers until they’re satisfied. Gain access to breakfast food as reward.
- Take the stage to roaring applause and provide fascism with its prettiest face yet. Claim that Barack Obama recorded a secret gangsta rap album with William Ayers in Louis Farrakhan’s living room. Assert that Obama performed songs called I Hate Stupid White Trash and Gimmie Your Daughters.
- After the rally, sit down for a brief interview with campaign-sanctioned Fox News reporter. Emphasize McCain’s commitment to victory in Iraq. Assure viewers that he will bring the troops home with honor in the way the great Ronald Reagan brought the troops home from Vietnam.
- Receive lunch late after having to hound handlers about feeling hungry. Sent to front of plane to eat cold, boxed lunch alone while studying the stack of index cards placed on top of the food.
- Work on brand new Official Sarah Palin Enemies List during downtime on the plane. Add two new entries: “Morean Dowd” and “facts.”
- Ask campaign aide whether President Lyndon Johnson was a Republican. Ignore aide’s exasperated sigh and the long pause that follows. Fill awkwardness with, “Oh, I must have read he was in The New York Times.” Laugh nervously. Wink.
- Take the stage at an evening rally in Nebraska. Whip the crowd into a frenzy by railing against “dark liberal forces,” newspapers, homosexuals, reading, and “the science.” Riff on what it is to be “a real American.” Go off the teleprompter and compare Joe Biden’s Senate record to Hitler’s taking guns and the Bible away from Jewish people in Japan. Sail to a roaring finish as the crowd chants her name, toss the mike into the crowd, and kick the podium over before running off the stage waving and smiling.
- Jump in McCain-Palin helicopter for a quick dash to an exclusive after-party. Fling the door open mid flight and lean out with a semi-automatic. Mow down a head of cattle and drop the gun over the pasture.
- Schmooze with GOP elite at the party. Make a meal out of the “freedom finger foods,” craftily avoiding having to ask the handlers for her dinner. Shake hands with dozens of blushing and fawning middle-age men who tell her she’s the future of the party, that she should pay no mind to the traitors in the media, that she’s going to make a great vice president and, someday, president. Believe without blinking that she earned this.
- Arrive at the night’s hotel and get a late call from McCain. Fight urge to let the call go to voicemail. Answer and listen to him tell her she did “really super” today. Try to say thanks but he talks over her words. He says they’re going to “win this thing” but keeps calling her “Sandy.” Listen as he reminds her that sometimes reporters try to trick you—they pretend to be hotel staff or pizza delivery boys—so she should not talk to any strangers under any circumstances. Listen as he asks her to repeat this back to him 50 times. Drift off to sleep saying, “I won’t talk to strangers, I won’t talk to strangers, I won’t talk to strangers….”
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