Dear Diary,

I am so doggone mad that the US government is so stuck in its Washington ways and so not truly in touch with the great people of this great nation. It has seen fit to declare the beluga whale an endangered species, even though Todd and me tried to block this very dangerous decision. It just makes me so mad! It’s like here I am the Governor of the great state of Alaska, but these elitist conservationists think they know more than me.

Doncha hate it when you’re just tryin’ to help this great country of ours to Drill baby drill, but they get some liberal elitist scientists to go all ‘declining population’ when we already told ’em the whales are fine.

I hafta say that I like it when me and Todd are tryin to make babies, and he’ll sorta whisper “Drill baby drill” and it makes me feel almost as good as when I’m speakin’ at a big ol’ rally about some of the changes I’m gonna be makin over there in Washington if I am so blessed.

I told Todd, I said Todd, if the lord wants to bless us with another special baby it will be my privilege to just put that thing in a basket under my desk at the White House and let Piper keep it quiet while I am makin’ those important decisions to get this great nation back on the right track.

Speakin’ of Track, if that boy asks me for drug money one more time, I swear I’m gonna have his ass deployed to Afghanistan. I love my boy dearly but like I remind him, there are plenty more where he came from, so don’t do anything to screw up my chances. Between him and Bristol I can see where a woman might want to go ahead and use birth control. LOL, just kiddin’ of course.

Well, time for my hot cocoa and my phone-call to John, who is drivin’ me nuts with his crap about POW this and POW that. Poor Cindy, right? On November 5 I can tell John to just shove it and kiss my ass. Once I’m elected, that old bastard will learn who’s boss.

Oh god, who gives a shit about all these Joes?!?

Could you hate Grandpa more if you tried? Let us out the ways.

The crazy smile, the chipmunk cheeks, the erect thumb, the scars, the demand for “repudiation”…..

It almost makes you long for the old days, my friends, when we had Mavericks to kick around.

Did anyone hear Grandpa mention his “opposition to the Iraq war?” Everyone at my house screamed “WHAT?” but no one called him on it. Are we suffering from mass hysteria? After listening to the crowd at CNN saying it was McCain’s best performance yet, I have to wonder what planet I’m on.

What was good about it, can anyone explain? Was is the psychotic look on his face, the blinking, the piousness, the personal attacks, the flubbed words, the flabbergasting lies?

I am tempted to defend Joe Sixpack from the cruel shift of Republican affection. Why has he been abandoned like this?! Does he hate the unborn, or the partially unborn? I know how it feels to be cast aside, my friends, but I promise to fight for you and with you, if you’ll just give me a chance to spit out that crap I’ve been storing in my cheeks for winter!

Today, I had a moment of clarity. I understood why Grandpa and that Church Lady must not be allowed to win this election. He’s too old, and she’s too stupid.

Alas, there are a number of people who haven’t grasped this. And now that Grandpa told some senile old racist that No ma’am, Obama isn’t an Arab, his handlers seem to think he should get a medal for good conduct. To quote a rant I just read,

“Garnering credit for coming to the defense of Senator Obama is like an arsonist claiming heroism for saving lives after having set fire to the building in the first place.”

On a happier note, the super-hunky Levi Johnston has come forward to talk about his babymama, Bristol “What does Birth Control mean?” Palin. Levi says that he always planned to marry the young fertility goddess, although now he’s had to drop out of high school to get a job on an oilfield. Levi describes his current situation philosophically. “It’s pretty chill.”

Levi, I love you so much. You are what we Jews would call a mensch, even though you’ve probably never met an actual Jew. I love the way you stepped up for Bristol. I love that you’ve given up your dream of playing hockey, just like Track did. I love how you tattooed Bristol’s name on your finger. I bet that’s your trigger finger. I’ve seen you holding your big rifle, ahem. And I love that even though you refused to divulge the baby’s gender, you did reveal your plan to “take him hunting and fishing.”

When asked how he felt about joining the Palins at the RNC, Levi said “At first, I was nervous. Then I was like, whatever.”

God, I know just what he means! Who among us is not, like, whatever?

It was almost sad, but you know, it wasn’t! It felt good to see Grandpa wandering around like an arthritic midget, baring his horrible teeth in a mean grimace. He was Danny DeVito to Obama’s Fred Astaire.

Who would you choose to run the country: An angry hissing old bastard who can’t open his mouth without lying, or a gracious, brainy idealist who is comfortable in his own skin?

Unless an October Surprise of monumental import comes to pass, Obama has it in the bag.

Just to cover the main points of the evening:

1. How many “My Friends” can anyone take?? All My Friends actually sent me text messages that began with the words “My Friends!” (I texted in reply, “U Hate Freedom!”)

2. Grandpa’s whistling S’s inspired a Whistling S contest between me and my nephew. I won!

3. No one left me any chicken wings! Fuckers.

Ah, but how gratifying to hear the post-debate blather at CNN. They all admitted that Grandpa was a repellent little shit. Not in those exact words, though.

Did everybody see McCain refuse to shake Obama’s hand? Nice touch, Grandpa! Now, we must turn our attention to Mrs. P, who probably thinks she holds the winning hand.

In honor of the Jewish New Year, I am now ready to reveal my personal history with Sarah “Dumbass” Palin. We met during the Miss Alaska competition in 1984. Sarah was a total cunt even then, but she sucked up enough to be anointed with the Miss Congeniality award.   She knew I was a much better flautist, and this bothered her so much that she spiked me with her cheap high heel just before the talent competition. I nearly bled to death backstage, but she never even apologized.

After humiliating herself with Katie Couric, Mrs. P had the audacity to return for another round, only this time she brought Grandpa to defend her. Watch Grandpa’s body language in this video as he tries not to explode and bash Katie Couric’s head in. I’d like to examine Cindy McCain for bruises, because it’s clear the Grandpa is a fucking vicious maniac.

Mrs. P is heading to Grandpa’s ranch in Arizona to “prepare” for her debate with Biden on Thursday. Which of the following scenarios is most likely to transpire?

1. The McCain operatives implant a chip in Palin’s head, enabling her to understand big words?
2. Track gets taken out by the CIA.
3. Biden comes down with the Black Plague.
4. Bristol has a miscarriage, requiring Mother’s presence at her bedside.
5. Bush has to bomb Iran late Thursday afternoon.
6. God sends word of an early Apocalypse.
7. The stock market collapses so thoroughly that all TV broadcasting must stop.
8. Grandpa threatens to expose Palin’s one grainy porn video unless she drops out as his VP.

Cast your vote or submit your own prediction!

At the time, I could hear him make some kind of sound, but I thought Grandpa was just hissing when Obama called him out for not knowing who the president of Spain is.

But ha ha, the old maverick actually sneered and said “Horseshit!” On the one hand, old men should be allowed to curse once in awhile, but on the other hand, we can’t have a crazy old ticking time-bomb in charge of the Free World! When he’s not busy calling Cindy a cunt, Grandpa’s always causing some kind of drama, isn’t he?

On the Church Lady front, Matt Taibbi gives a trenchant analysis of her, here.   Describing Mrs. Palin’s speech at the RNC, he says: “It was like watching Gidget address the Reichstag.” He is one furious, eloquent Palin Hater, and a tough act to follow, so I won’t even try.

However! Grandpa’s team is said to be predicting a big October wedding for Bristol and Levi, who are now POWs just like Grandpa was. The wedding will provide more drama and distraction, while the economy sinks like the fucking Titanic!

This could mean good news for the otherwise doomed Track Palin (see Mark‘s predictions in the previous post.) But the horror……and with Putin watching the whole thing from up in the sky!

PAP Smear will convene on Monday night, if Bex can wait that long.

Tomorrow, I’m planning an all new Weekend Festival of Hate.

Last night, I was summoned by George W (described by a talking head on CNN as a ‘high-functioning moron’ in a rare moment of candor) and Grandpa to meet with Sarah Palin in her home-state, Alaska. She had fled there after suffering a nervous breakdown on national TV, due to a ruthless interrogation by Katie “Mengele” Couric. Even Grandpa himself couldn’t have stood up to this kind of merciless torture.

Sarah looked freshly tanned, but a little shaky. She led me outside to her backyard and pointed out Russia. Sure enough, I could see Putin in Alaska’s airspace! What the hell was he doing? Sarah started running around in little circles. It wasn’t panic; it was more like she was dribbling an imaginary basketball.

I helped Todd and Levi carry her to her bed, where we managed to sedate her by reading the bible and injecting some thorazine into her one remaining functional vein. Everyone wandered outside to watch Putin up in the sky. Little Trig tried to wave. Or maybe Piper was just flipping him around. Bristol’s water broke, but her dad advised her to ignore it until after the election.

When I arrived home, exhausted but proud to have been of service, I received this email from Sarah, who has managed to open a new Yahoo account with only a little help from Piper. I don’t think Mrs. P would mind if I share her letter with the good citizens of our exceptional democracy.

Dear Sister Wolf,

Our visit was so cool and awesome. I know you and John McCain agree that I can see Russia and that such as. The people in Russia who share our border and who fly around dropping the things and we must be prepared for the terrorists over there and not here on our own democratic soil as I have said as Governor many, many times. A pitbull is now overhead in the sky but haha I’m a hockey mom so I know what to do.

The First Dude is out with Bristol somewhere, and I know they are praying for John McCain to save this Fannie Mac type economy that the taxpayers must not blink! Not at all Charlie, no blinking, none. Nada.

John McCain is the answer to this country’s change, as I have said to the people, thanks but no thanks. That was when they asked me to take down the beehive. Over my dead body will I cave in to liberal elitists on the hair issue. No blinking on that one.   Now McCain is hinting that I could best help this great exceptional country by taking a trip on an ice floe.   I will pray on it and then decide what God wants from me.   I can’t second guess Israel and neither can John McCain or that fucking bitch Katie Couric, excuse my French.

Again, I did not blink nor will I second guess Israel, or second guess what Israel may or may not or may yet want to do. Nor should we second guess Israel.

<3 Sarah

Wouldn’t you know, Grandpa wants to cancel the debate scheduled for Friday night!   He needs to go to Washington to pretend he’s a leader.

NO, GRANDPA! It’s not time for your nap! You can’t back out of the debate just because the economy is bad. What the fuck does he take us for? Are we idiots?!   Are we in Inglewood?! Grandpa is also talking about postponing the vice-presidential debate, according to CNN.

These people are desperate, and they’re hoping to somehow steal this election just like George W did. I’m at the point where nothing seems too bizarre or evil, including the President threatening that the whole world will end unless congress passes his $700 billion deal.

Fuck these crazy bastards. Go here and watch the tape of Mrs. P getting blessed by a Witch Doctor. Be afraid. Then, go here and you may decide, as I have, that Tigger is poor Bristol’s baby, not Mrs. P’s. There is more evidence than any sentient being can possibly reject as ‘just rumors.’

*UPDATE:   And look! I got my images to upload.   No one can mess with me, godammit,   not even wordpress.