A nation turns its lonely eyes to your ditzy insufferable ramblings
Friday, July 10, 2009
I know, I know, we all said we were entirely sick to death of you, Sarah, never wanted to hear another folksy, semi-coherent peep, were hugely grateful that you had mercifully receded like a perky red tide back up to the rural bucolic animal-skinned parts of podunk rusticville from whence you came. I know.
We were all happy to hear you had finally removed all those expensive designer clothes you so gleefully hoarded from Neimans and charged to poor ol' grandpa McCain, and had returned to your baggy sweatpants and "I Heart Bowhunting" glitter sweatshirt, as we all hoped deep in our hearts to never hear much from you again, even as we all became instantly annoyed that the media kept insisting on reporting your every little hiccup and twitch and errant pantyhose episode, even long after you had left the building.
But now, something is amiss. Something feels, how do I say this, a little bit sad. Now that you've up and quit as America's favorite hottie milf ditzball politico moose-slashin' anti-choice anti-feminist destroyer of linear grammar, we feel adrift and lost, a nation without its favorite squeaky purple balloon.
Look, we all knew you were slightly weird, offbeat, entirely unqualified and unprepared for The Show, that you were obviously in way, way over your head as VP nom, your cutesy mannerisms and childish winking merely a mask for the fact that you thought the Sunnis and Shiites were some weird European soccer teams and domestic torture meant not eating cupcakes for a solid month and foreign policy was waving to Vladimir Putin from your back deck.
This all was, of course, merely part of your crazy allure, merely what the GOP base still adores about you -- the fact that you are, without doubt, just as uninformed and generally ignorant of global and social complexity as they are. The fact that you had so captivated a nation's imagination had zero to do with your governing abilities or political insights, and everything to do with the fact that no one could quite understand how the hell you made it up on that stage in the first place.
But no one ever imagined you'd just up and quit, just give up like that, the pressure and the scrutiny and the financial woes from all those probes into your various ethics violations and your adorable cartoon family proving to be too much for your quirky, hollow sensibilities.
No one ever imagined you'd step up to the mike and deliver one of the most barely coherent, side-steppin', nonsensical, what-the-hell-is-she-talking-about resignation speeches of all time, leaving your role as the right wing's most unlikely taste sensation to ... well, no one knows exactly who. Michele Bachmann? Trust me, Sarah, that flat-out nutbucket can't hold a candle to your winkin', smirkin', carefully manicured caricature of a smart female. Her ignorance and homophobia are far too literal and obvious. You were so much more fun, largely because no one can really understand a single word you say.
So now, we take it all back. I know, it's a bit humiliating to admit, but the nation needs you, Sarah.
Or, more specifically, liberals and Democrats need you, given the simply spectacular job you've done of helping drag the Republican party, if not further to the extremist nutball right, certainly much further down the ladder of intelligence, respect and viability, than even Bush could've dreamed. As long as you're serving as the GOP's hood ornament, and as long as Rush and O'Reilly and Glenn Beck are behind the wheel, the Republican party has not a single prayer of relevance and capability in the next two decades.
And what of your rumored 2012 presidential ambitions? I know I, for one, was seriously looking forward to your debates with President Obama. I was looking forward to hearing you try to pronounce Ahmadinejad's name, or locate France on a map, or explain what you'd do to fix health care ("free rifles for all schoolchildren" doesn't really count). I was eager to watch Obama struggle not to roll his eyes or chuckle softly or quietly pine for the good old days of his debates with Hillary, a woman of such fiery political intelligence she makes you look like Miley Cyrus trying to read Shakespeare. So cute!
You know, for the longest time, Sarah, I and millions of liberals like me have dreamed that the truth would finally come out about many leading members in the savage, homophobic right-wing party, that we'd finally hear about, say, Rush Limbaugh's massive kiddie porn collection, or Bill O'Reilly's sex tapes with numerous gay prostitutes, or Newt Gingrich's multiple wives. Oh wait.
But then I thought, why? What's the point of that? Just more obvious hypocrisy? More of the same? Nothing ever changes anyway. It's not like another gay sex scandal or drug addiction or adulterous affair by some God-loving hypocrite ever serves to make the Right understand the nature of its own narrow-mindedness, and move to upend its uninformed ways. Hell, Jesus himself could return tomorrow on a firestorm of revelation and point at the megachurches of the nation and shake his head and say, "No no no, you're doing it all wrong."
Do you know what would happen, Sarah? Of course you don't. I lost you eight paragraphs ago when I wrote all those polysyllabic words. It's OK.
Nothing, Sarah. That's what would happen. Nothing at all. The right would simply ignore or even shun Jesus, call him a fraud, claim he must've been brainwashed by Satan somewhere on his big elevator ride down, would lock him up and call him a hippie and pretend they never saw him, then go right on hating gays and demeaning women and calling Obama a commie fascist.
In other words, Sarah, the best the left can hope for is for the right's most extremist, silly or otherwise unhinged figureheads -- that's you, Sarah! -- to keep doing exactly what they're doing, shoving out the moderate voices of their own party in favor of wacky fanaticism and raging on about homosexuals and abortion and God, thus locking in Obama's second term and further guaranteeing their own delightful irrelevance.
Do you see, Sarah? We need you here, to keep doing your fine and upstanding and nonsensical work, keep making the right the adorable laughingstock of the world it has so very become.
Look, here's my Platinum Amex. Go nuts at Bloomingdale's. I won't tell anyone where you got those Gucci riding boots, promise. Come back soon, K?Find the original here. And the funny stuff here.