Congratulations, Mrs. Palin. You have become the first female contender for either end of the Presidential ticket since Dukakis. We especially want to congratulate you on your success considering your youth, and the usually debilitating affliction of being as dumb as a stump. We here at the Ruthless offices are especially glad to see you rise to the national stage; a lovely all-American woman with impeccable social and moral credentials that can bring our country out of the moral quagmire and back into God’s light. There will be no Jaimie Lynn Spears on your watch, right, Governor?
We also want to wish you the best of luck today as you take the stage at the RNC. With so much bad governance staining the Republican name, its good to see a true reformer ready to split open the old power structures and replace them with her own set of demented cronies. You’re not so much a reformer as a former-from-within. You remake political systems in your own image, leveraging their corruption to turn butterflies into slugs. Your amazing tenure up there in Winterfrost Valley seems to indicate that you managed to make absolutely every decision with motives that were either explicitly thieving and venal, or potent and bracing in their moralising.
Originally, we very much wanted to believe you were not the mother of the infant, Trig. (Great name, by the way!) We originally believed that this magical child was no more yours than it was Larry Craig’s. Yet, in a way, we’re happier now that this issue has been resolved. There is… just..one.… more thing, Sarah.
You’re not anti-abortion. You’re addicted to children.
We’re more than a little creeped out by the way you decided to wait three days to tell the world that oh yes, shit, forgot to say that you’re going to be grandmother really soon. Your lovely daughter Bristol, suffering what must be the world’s most wild case of mono, ‘took seven months out of vital high school learning to recuperate from a medieval disease.’ We know things are bad up in Alaska, but we’re pretty sure you have ‘a’ doctor, or access to WebMD when the sun appears to power the light sails above the governor’s manor. While I’m sure seven months of Alaskan high school can probably be covered by catching up on a week’s worth of Passions, your poor daughter probably suffered one of those rare cases of mono, the Levi Johnston stain, where a screaming human thing emerges from the lower body at the culmination of a long period of eating and moodiness.
How about you just admit to us how obscenely medieval your family is? How would that be?
For us here in the real world, its so much more likely that lovely Bristol wants to get rid of the baby. Hammer it out with a rusty forcep, singular. Fling it from the free throw line. We’re guessing that you want to force your daughter and the lovely Mr. Johnston into a marriage. Myspace doesn’t lie, Ms. Palin. Levi said he didn’t want children. Does your Jesus condone forced marriage? I forget which Jesus we’re talking about – is it the Prince of Peace with the “war mode” that demands that every single pregnancy produce a squealing human nugget?
We’re guessing that champ here isn’t thinking long-term about child-rearing.
We’re guessing this hero is thinking about the sweetness of getting into the White House bowling alley and inviting his pink-popped-collar buddies in for a kegger for his 21st.
But none of the scandals, not even the yet-developing religious insanity you believe in, the Jews for Jesus, the anti-flag sermons – none of that really tells us quite how much your brain is a diseased circus. No, your super weird decision to fly from Texas to Alaska to give birth to Trig is really the perfect image of your type, the Medieval American.
You broke water in Texas, which nobody noticed, got on a plane and didn’t seem to be in any form of distress, or in fact, pregnant at all:
“Governor Palin was extremely pleasant to flight attendants and her stage of pregnancy was not apparent by observation as she didn’t show any signs of distress,” an Alaska Airlines spokesperson said.
Hey, maybe you’re superwoman. Maybe you can just shit them out now that the way has been prepared. However, smart money says that you don’t take on a multi-hour flight when labor contractions are coming on without first letting the airline know. As one right-wing blog commenter said on September 1:
I seriously question the governor’s judgement for making the bizarre decision to fly back to Alaska after her membranes ruptured. She was asking for trouble, but fortunately made the trip safely. I hope she runs the statehouse better than she handles her own pregnancies.
It could well be that the Republicans are better at birth due to their patriotism. Its entirely likely, given that it also gives them the power to ignore things like common sense ethics rules and fundamental supply-side economics. What the fuck were you thinking, you insane… insane..woman? It absolutely, positively had to be in the secluded frozen compound with your own personal rifle-totin’ Jesus nearby. It couldn’t be just anywhere. You’re so addicted to the easy drug of power that you can suppress anything – life itself – to bring something under your domain. It speaks to the controlling puritan madness that has metastasized your personality into a living poison.
Well, at least we know you’re the mother now; only someone stupid enough to name a child ‘Track’ would name another child ‘Trig’, after a Norse rune, no less. We are tempted to think, however, that your rather intelligent-looking family members are probably sick to death of that bullshit, evidenced in at least by none of them being registered Republicans, your husband being a member of a union, and your daughter getting into the more dynamic social activities before the age of Republican consent.
You haven’t given us much. Of all the scandals out there, they merely tell us you’re a Republican. But we’re compelled by how additionally Republican you are – how horrifyingly self-obsessed, controlling, and just shit at your job. These things make you the perfect punctuation to the Bush years. Only in his shadow do such freaky mushrooms bloom. Our only conclusions about you thus far must make us see you lied to the world to avoid the shame of Alaskan teenage sex in your house. Its Alaska, what else is there to do? Hunt moose? C’mon, nobody is that crazy.
We have our sherry. We’ll be keen to watch your speech tonight, and we’ll be back to check up on your after the next wave of deranged scandals. God willing, by the time we finish writing this sentence, you may even be replaced – but we’ll never let you go now, Mrs. Palin. You’re special to us. You’re the symbolic endpoint of American life. If it can get as bad as you, then the Republic might be lost. May God speed you to the highest office.
-The Ruthless Team