This Is the End

( – promoted by buhdydharma )

Everyone gets everything he wants.   I wanted a mission, and for my sins, they gave me one. Brought it up to me like room service.  It was a real choice mission, and when it was over, I never wanted another.  

Your mission is to proceed up the Wasilla River, pick up the trail of returned designer clothes, follow it and learn what you can along the way.  When you find Sarah Palin, infiltrate her team by whatever means available and terminate her political future.

Terminate her political future???

She’s up there in Alaska operating without any decent restraint, totally beyond the pale of any rational human conduct.  She’s still in office commanding the Alaska National Guard, she’s stark raving mad, but she’s going to run for president in 2012 anyway.

I mentioned the turkey beheading incident and suggested that Palin’s been terminating her political future at a pretty good clip all by herself, so why send me up there?  But they wouldn’t take no for an answer.    

I was going to the worst place in the world and I didn’t even know it yet.  Palin was out there somewhere, still ranting about Katie Couric and Charlie Gibson, still raving about liberal media treachery, descending into madness hundreds of Bridge to Nowhere miles from here.

I looked out the window.  Juneau . . . shit, I’m still only in Juneau.  I braced myself for the harrowing journey ahead, a journey that would snake through Alaska like a frozen circuit cable–plugged straight into . . .

I’ve been learning some hard lessons along the way.  Don’t get out of the fucking boat–absolutely goddamn right, don’t ever get out of the fucking boat, not unless you’re going all the way.  I’ve learned that Republicans don’t surf. I’ve learned that horror has a face . . .

The horror . . . the horror . . .

I talked to a Nome reporter and asked him what I should talk to Palin about if I found her . . .

Hey, man, you don’t talk to Sarah Palin.  You listen to her.  The woman’s enlarged my mind.  She’s a poet-warrior in the classic sense.  I mean sometimes she’ll… uh… well, you’ll say “hello” to her, right? And she’ll just walk right by you.  She won’t even notice you.  And suddenly she’ll grab you, and she’ll throw you in a corner, and she’ll say, “do you know that Putin’s head keeps invading our airspace?”

An Anchorage reporter’s face went pale when I asked him about Palin . . .

Palin?  She’s wacko, man!  She’s worse than crazy.  Have you seen her office?  Wolf skulls and altars and mounted turkey heads all over the place!  I used to think if I died in an evil place, then my soul wouldn’t be able to make it to Heaven.  But now?  I don’t care where it goes, as long as it ain’t here.

Palin’s crack staff thought I was from The Weekly Standard, so I got an interview, and asked her if she’d do any thing differently if she ran for president in 2012 . . .

You betcha.  Ya know, I wanted to tear my teeth out when McCain’s staff kept me away from the press, when they wouldn’t let me talk to the American people and explain that I’m God’s Special Messenger.  I didn’t know what to do.  And I want to remember it.  I never want to forget it.  I never want to forget. And then I realized . . . like I was shot . . . like I was shot with a diamond . . . a diamond bullet right through my forehead.  JUST BE MYSELF FROM NOW ON!  RUN AS GOD’S SPECIAL MESSENGER IN 2012! And I thought: My God . . . the genius of that.  The genius.   The will to do that.  Perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure.

I asked her if she still shoots wolves from helicopters . . .

No.  I use napalm now.  I love the smell of napalm in the morning.  You know, one time we napalmed a whole pack of wolves, for 12 hours.  When it was all over, I walked up.  We didn’t find one of ’em, not one stinkin’ wolf body. The smell, you know that gasoline smell, the whole hill.  Smelled like . . . victory.

I asked her if she’d given any thought to how she’d deal as president with the liberals . . .  

We must kill them.  We must incinerate them.  Pig after pig.  Cow after cow.  Village after village.  Army after army.

I asked her what she would do as president to revive America’s faltering space program . . .

One through nine, no maybes, no supposes, no fractions. You can’t travel in space, you can’t go out into space, you know, without, like, you know, uh, with fractions.  What are you going to land on? One-quarter?  Three-eighths?  What are you going to do when you go from here to Venus or something? That’s dialectic physics.

Oh man, the shit piles up so fast in a Palin interview, you need wings to stay above it.

With a political future terminating final question, I asked her how she’d resolve the economic crisis . . .

Ya know, I’ve seen a snail crawl along the edge of a straight razor, crawling, slithering, along the edge of a straight . . . razor . . .   Our economy is like that snail, it’s crawling, slithering, along the edge of a straight . . . razor . . . and surviving!   When the American people hear me explain that, when they understand that I’m God’s Special Messenger, like Moses and Ezekiel and those other prophet guys were, when I prophesy that we don’t need any fancy stimulus packages, we just need to ride that snail to prosperity, you just watch, they’ll elect me in a landslide in 2012.

This is the end.  Of her elaborate plans, the end.

Mission Accomplished!