When John woke up he found himself naked and running through snow covered fields. His head was bleeding, he was dizzy, but he knew he had to keep moving. This was like a bad teenage horror flick, he thought to himself. But which one? Friday the 13th? Nightmare… “Who cares,” he yelled! “Where’s Lieberman when you need him, gosh darn it!”
Just then, as he reached what seemed like a crest, a helicopter rose above the horizon. Inside were Sarah and Todd, both with the most evil, shit eating grins he had ever seen. Wow, they were scarier than Cheney. Sarah reached into a pile of large hardcover novels that had obviously been soaked in gasoline, because as soon as she pulled out her State of Alaska embossed Zippo, and fired it up, the books burst into flames.
McCain found himself being pelted with “Catcher in the Rye” and “Huckleberry Finn” but it was Barry Goldwater’s “Conscience of a Conservative” that particularly inflicted a great deal of pain.
As John looked up he found himself facing the barrel of Palin’s rifle. This was it. One little mistake was about to cost him it all. Flashes of wolves lying dead in the snow ran through his mind. Beads of sweat ran down his face. “What have I done,” he thought.
John jumped up. Cindy was lying quietly next to him in the hotel bed. “It was just a bad dream'” he mumbled. “But what have I done?”
Miami was warm and humid. The sun shone down on a row of lovely and very high end clothing boutiques. “This is where the rich come to shop,” thought Sarah. She was armed with an open ended credit card thanks to a generous GOP donor, and Todd and the kids were excited to kick off their overalls and buy some threads. They watched Project Runway. They knew how big time city folks did it. They all kind of felt like they were on What Not to Wear but with a much bigger budget. In fact, the budget was endless. You can’t win an election unless you look good. And instead of channeling McCain the maverick, who hated pork barrels and ear marks, she decided to channel Madonna the maverick, who loved pig skins and earrings.
A few hours and a hundred thousand dollars later, the entire family was outfitted with enough clothes to get them through the next four years. Maternity clothing, baby clothing, tuxedoes, suits, you name it. The Lamborghini for Todd would take a few months to arrive, but what’s a few months? They needed to get home and rest. Tomorrow was a big day. There would be more shopping, neo-Nazi rallies, speeches tying Obama to John Wilkes Booth and the Spanish Inquisition, more shopping and at some point the family would need some major spa time.
Being a reformer felt good. It was like Extreme Home Reformer, but for just the Palins.
The wardrobe to nowhere felt good.
Spending a lot of other people’s money felt good. I mean it just felt… right. It felt, well… Republican. If you spend a lot of money as a government on other people, that’s wrong. But if you spend it on yourself, in the time of a great depression, while Joe the Plumber gets busted for working without a license and Joe Six Pack gets busted for packing on a keg or two and Hockey Moms get busted for selling pure Alaskan snow to afford all the equipment their kids need… that feels like… well…
Sarah sat in a chair, while nerdy looking accountants went through her receipts. They all just shook their heads in amazement. McCain looked pale. So did everyone in the room.
Sarah felt like she could cut the tension with a large hunting knife. She tried to be quiet, but she just could not do it…
“Well… gosh darn it… I’m a maverick and we just need to, you know, talk about the issues and look good doing it… it’s about image and America and making people think they are richer than they really are and if they have nice clothing, who needs food because Russia has a lot of things that we could just, you know take…”
She trailed off as McCain grabbed the arms of her chair and got right in her face.
“Elizabeth Hasselbeck made me do it,” she cried. “She told me to spruce it up for the love of…”
She pointed up to the heavens.
TO BE CONTINUED