cynicschism

       You know, the idiot that ran with the white-haired old dude on the Republican ticket just recently.  The one who called people “jerks” because they tried to give her advice.  The one who got messed up with the $150,000 + wardrobe malfunction.  Wonder where those clothes are now?  Probably hanging right in her closet. 

       Right after the election there was some minor Palinteria.  She gave a few self-serving interviews, blaming everything on everybody else, except herself.  The Saks mess wasn’t her idea.  Funny how someone hailed as a strong-willed woman, just gave in to whatever people told her to do.  Doesn’t sound very strong-willed to me. 

       Of course, little Sarah was lying from the gitgo.  Lied about the Bridge to Nowhere, lied about selling the state jet, lied about hating pork, lied about…well, you get the idea.  Her pants were long ago consumed by fire.

       No doubt Palin will be popping up on talk shows and who knows what else.  If the circus comes to town, she just might be there.  But the big question is What’s next for Governor Betcha?  Right after the election, she was first in a poll for the Republican 2012 nomination.  Can that last?  Well, four years is a long time in politics, and anything can happen, as witness the candidacy of Barack Obama, but I just don’t see Palin as a long term possibility.  The American people will go for most anything, but it’s hard to believe they’ll go for a dumb bunny like Palin.  She may huff and puff, and go on about reformers and mavericks, but the fact is Palin is just another old-fashioned political hack masquerading as something different.  She just doesn’t have the brains to pull this kind of thing off.  Americans have been exposed to her dumb as lumber act, and it doesn’t seem to have enough takers.  Yes, she’ll show up every once in a while, deliver her usual nutty talking points, and try to pretend somebody cares.  They don’t.  Palin is just an accidental sideshow, who will slowly fade into irrelevance.  The turkey you can’t save is yourself.

       Could the WGN Newhart Thanksgiving day and after marathon be the start of a new Turkey Day tradition?  Doubtful.  Not because there might be better football matchups next year, or that it isn’t a funny show, but because  a tradition has to last for more than a year, and I don’t think there will be a Newhart marathon next year.  Oh, there might, but I wouldn’t count on it.

       But the Newhart marathon was a good old-fashioned one.  It ran long enough, starting with its first episode at 2 p.m. and continuing on into Friday early morning at 3 a.m., with a break for the 10 p.m. news.  That’s 24 episodes.  Some of them were the same ones that have recently run on WGN from 8 to 9 p.m. on Sundays, but others were ones that haven’t been seen for a while.  And what could be a better series for a Thanksgiving Day marathon than one that takes place in a homey country inn in Vermont?  It practically cries out Happy Holidays, along with real cold and snow.  Of course, if you don’t like the show in the first place, you won’t want to spend a big chunk of your day in front of the tube watching.  But if you like the show, it’s something a little different to watch for the holidays.  All the old famaliar characters from the show do their star turns-Bob, Joanna, George, Stephanie, Michael, and Larry, Darryl, and the other Darryl, plus the assorted eccentrics of the town.  For those with highly dysfunctional families, they may prefer spending time with the folks from the show than their own kin.  Newhart may not be great television, but it provides an enjoyable half-hour of humor with adundant laughs.  Besides, half the fun of the marathons is just staying glued to the set while you relax in your chair, stuffing your face with leftovers, while every half-hour, the theme song starts up again, and you wonder if this will be aa episode you haven’t seen for quite a while.

       I got so wrapped up in Newhart, I forgot to check up on some of the perennial marathoners, like The Twilight Zone or The X-Files, which used to be on Sci-Fi every holiday.  Don’t know if Newhart will be back next year, perhaps not, but for this year it kept things interesting between bites of turkey sandwich.

       No, it’s not the football games, which this year are truly pathetic.  The team with the best record versus a team without a single win.  And the hated Cowboys versus the flying on a spare wing Seahawks.  Yeah, there’s two real nailbiters for you.  It’s not the food, turkey is fine with enough salt.  It’s that darn parade.

       Every Thanksgiving morning, our family went over to Grandma’s house for Thanksgiving.  And what did she love to do?  Watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade.  All of it, all the way through.  And everybody else had to watch too.  Today, the parade lasts three hours on TV.  Maybe it did then also, but it seemed to go on for five or six.  One damn marching band after another.  The only kick we could get out of it, being locals, was the sight of all these hicks from the sticks playing in the big city, and that wasn’t much of a kick.  But down the avenue they marched, the fresh-faced kids from East Podunk, Ark., followed by the twirlers from Baldpatch, Ma.,  and the all-American singers from Possum Scratch, Ga.  On and on and on into eternity.  No floats or balloons could keep that grim march interesting.  And then, finally, it was all over.  The last uniformed marchers murdering the favorite rock tune of the day  reached the end, followed by Santa Claus.  Oh what joy to see old St. Nick hove into view.  That meant it was over, all those long hours of musical torture.  Over, until next year.

       Today, I got up late, so half the parade was over.  Went to the TV, turned it on for a second, and there they were, marching down the avenue.  Click.  They ain’t marching anymore.  It’s always nice to have something to be truly thankful for on Thanksgiving.  I know I have.

       Kind of a dull patch just before Thanksgiving. The holiday isn’t till tomorrow, and so it’s wait and see time.  Not going anywhere, just going to cozy up at home.  Maybe watch a few old movies on the tube.  Last night TCM showed  Rio Grande, a John Ford western starring John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara.

       Rio Grande is considered the last of Ford’s so-called calvary trilogy, a group of three films set in the West and concerned with the U.S. Army’s battle with the Indians.  The first two parts of the trilogy are Fort Apache (1948) and She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949).  Wayne is the star of all three films.  All deal with the trials and tribulations of army life in the post-Civil War west, both military and personal.  There is a certain longing and emotional undertow in these movies that sets them apart from the simple shoot ‘em up westerns.

       Rio Grande is a good, but by no means great, western.  The material is a little too famaliar to have the excitement of an original vision.  But the plot is interesting and the vistas of buttes and desert spectacular.  In this one, Wayne is given permission to cross the Rio Grande to finally attack the Apaches who have been making border raids across the river into America and then crossing back into Mexico, where the army could not at first follow.  He is joined by his estranged wife and their son, who has been assigned as a raw recruit to his father’s unit.  Wayne finally makes his peace with both his wife and son as the picture comes to its conclusion.  This is one of those movies that fits like a comfortable old shoe, and it’s a pleasant way to spend two hours watching a good reliable friend, just in time for the holidays.

     Alfred Hitchcock Presents ran for seven season as a half-hour TV program. For the next season the title was changed to The Alfred Hitchcock Hour and the length of each episode was expanded, as the title made pretty obvious, to a full hour.  The hour-long format continued for three seasons, when it went off the air, after producing a total of 93 episodes.  As with any TV show, some episodes were outstanding, others were just average, and some real dogs popped up every once in a while.  The Hitchcock show was no exception.  Among the better episodes of the series was one called Lonely Place, a truly scary portrait of the impact of a psychotic loner on a rural middle-aged married couple.

       Peach farmer Emery (Pat Buttram) and his wife Stella (Teresa Wright) live in a modest farmhouse in an isolated part of the country.  It is almost time to harvest the peach crop and Emery is hoping to find help.  Down the road comes Jesse (Bruce Dern) a down on his luck drifter.  Emery, who is a tight old skinflint who wants to save as much money as possible, asks Jesse if he would like to assist in picking peaches. Jesse agrees, and Emery hires him at a low wage, which makes Emery happy.  But Stella is doubtful about the stranger, who has a menacing look about him, and starts to taunt her at every occasion.  He also carries a large knife.  Stella has a pet squirrel, which she dotes on.  Before long Jesse, claiming the squirrel attacked him, kills the squirrel.  Emery doesn’t seem too concerned, but Stella is upset and begins to think of Jesse as a danger.  The peach picking proceeds, and Emery is only too happy to have Jesse’s cheap help.

       Stella feels more and more uneasy, as Jesse continues to torment her, and tries to get him fired, but Emery pays no attention to her pleas.  He wants to milk Jesse until the peach harvest is done; the two men even seem to begin to gang up on Stella, with Emery seeming to take Jesse’s side against his wife.  Stella, now totally afraid of what Jesse might do to her, decides to leave the farm until Jesse goes.  She packs a suitcase and sneaks out a window.  Naturally, before she can get very far, she runs into Jesse and his shiny, sharp knife.  She manges to escape from Jesse and he steals the farm truck and takes off.  Stella returns to the house, where she finds Emery seemingly asleep.  But he opens his eyes and finally admits to Stella that he too is afraid of the psychotic Jesse, and was pretending to be asleep when he heard Stell’s screams after she ran into Jesse outside.  Stella has had enough of her husband’s uncaring and cowardly actions, and takes her revenge on both Emery and Jesse.

       The isolation of the farmhouse and the strained mariage of Emery and Stella make an excellent and spooky backdrop to the story.  We get the feeling that there is no one around for miles.  And when Jesse arrives, he just emphasizes the loneliness and vulnerability of Stella in relation to her cold-hearted husband.   Within this atmosphere moves the figure of Jesse, a rootless man who has a manic laugh to go along with his meanacing scowl and strange ways.  It doesn’t take long for Stella to figure out that Jesse has more than a few screws loose.  Emery eventually gets it too, but he’s more interested in saving a penny than anything else; for his hard-hearted ways he will pay.  The story builds slowly, as the power of Jesse’s insanity becomes harder to ignore.

       In the confined environment of the farmhouse and orchard, the tension between the three characters is only heightened, especially that between Stella and Jesse and between Stella and her selfish husband, Emery.    Pat Buttram, who often plays the humorous local yokel, presents Emery as a cold-heartened man who cares only about money and seems to long ago have lost any true affection for his wife.  Stella, played by Academy Award winner Teresa Wright, has the role down cold as a middle-aged woman who seems tired of her life, but keeps on keeping on, since it seems the only thing to do in her harsh circumstance. Bruce Dern once again turns in his usual perfect take on the menancing psychotic who enjoys toying with his victims before he tries to finish them off.  Dern became somewhat typecast in this kind of role in both TV and movies, but his Jesse is a truly evil man, who enjoys mentally torturing his victims.  He is totally convicing as the quite mad Jesse.  All three actors give outstanding performances.

       Lonely Place is surely one of the best and most unsettling episodes of the whole  Hitchcock Hour series, mostly because Jesse, at least initially, seems like the kind of person you might meet any day in real life.  Only when it’s too late, can the viewer see just how crazy Jesse really is.

       The Alfred Hitchcock Hour was being shown on the Chiller, channel 257 on DirecTV.  As it was just starting the third go around of the complete episodes, it was dropped from the schedule.  It’s a good idea to see as many episodes as one can, because you never know when they will be shown again.  Perhaps the series will return to the Chiller schedule in the near future.  If that happens, be sure to catch the Lonely Place episode.

                                                       Scene Two

Plfce:  Dude, it’s me, Paleface.

McC:  Holy heck, it’s Sadie, what the hell is she doing here.  Damn, Liverspot, let go of my poletroll, willya?  If you don’t I’ll come on your suit.

Livsp:  Okay, calm down, let her in.

McC:  Let me cover up first.  Be right there.

Livsp:  Man, you don’t have anything on, your superduper is still hard.

McC:  Can’t help it, she’ll just have to get an eyefull (McC goes to the door and opens it a few inches).  My, my, Sadie dear, what are you doing here?

Plfce:  Don’t you old geezers remember anything? You said to met you up here for a workshop.

McC:  Workshop?  Oh, yeah, a workshop.  Sure, now I remember, come right in (opens door to let in Paleface.  She enters and he closes door behind her).

Plfce:  Hey, Johnny, how come you are nekkid and got you petermeter out there?

McC:  Well, it’s a long story.

Plfce:  Well, I wouldn’t say that.

McC:  Okay, bitch, I don’t need any wiseass comments.  You know Liverspot, don’t you?

Plfce:  Sure, I’ve seen him hanging around the plane with his tongue hanging out.  How are ye, spot.

Livsp:  Why fine, thank you ma’m.  We were just doing a little yogercise.

Plfce:  So I see.  Johnny, you gonna put that thing away or just let it hang in the wind?

McC:  Now listen, what my dickstick does is my business, and just for being a smartass, I’m going let it fly.

Plfce:  Suit yourself. What about you, Spot? You got something to show me?

Livsp:  Yeah, I got something, you wanna take a gander?

Plfce:  You bethca, let’s put it out on the street and see if you’ve got what it takes.

Livsp:   Okay, better stand back, I don’t want anybody to get hurt. (Takes off  rest of clothes and stands nekkid before the other two inhabitants of the cabin.  Starts to grab pisspotee and rub it as it springs into action) C’mon baby, daddy needs a stiff one. C’mon baby, show the little lady what you’re made of ( Liverspot’s generative member slowly starts to rise, the angle of jerking increasing by the second)  That’s it, baby.  Go, boy, go.  Let’s go all the way, mama.  Yes, full speed ahead. (Liverspot’s g.m. has achieved it’s full size).  Well, ladies and gentlemen, how do you like my cock now?

McC:  Geez, I’ve been giving this dude handjobs for years, but I never knew he was this big.  Maybe it’s the angle.

Livsp:  Angle, schmangle.  You’re just jealous, with your little peashooter, while I’ve got the big artillery piece.  Feast your eyes on my mighty dickeroo.  What do you think, fair lady?

Plfce:   I must admit, I’m impressed.  You’ve got a doozy of a manthinger.

Livsp:   Damn straight.

Plfce:  It sure is.  When the first dude dude was doing me up the rooter, I never thought I’d see two Senators with their peckerdeckers out  and about.

McC:  Well, I think you’ll find I’m no pushover myself. (Turns and thrusts out organ before Paleface)  Not a bad cut of manmeat for an old codger, is it?

Plfce:  Nope, you’re looking good, gramps.

McC:  Thanks, I do try my hardest.

Plfce:  Let me take a look at both of you.  Turn this way (Both men, nekkid as jaybirds, turn, with their backass toward the audience, and their masculine sticks pointing in the direction of Paleface).

Plfce:  You know, with the shadows caused by the fire, it’s hard to tell who’s got the longer, bigger wampump.  Holy shit.  Wait one minute.  I’ve got an old fish weigher in my coat pocket. (Feels in pocket and takes out fish scale)  Yeah, here it is, musta forgot to put it in the snowmobile.  Now, this will settle it for once and all.  We’ll find out for sure who’s the king of the cockerrockers.  Okay gents, let me get this thing all set up.  Alright, start your engines and keep those mastpoles steady and straight, cause it’s time for the tale of the tape.  (Starts to move toward the two men, who have thrust out their manhoodies, with her fish scale)  Okay, attenshunnn.  

The Alaskan Repetory Theatre announces its second intermission.  Homemade    goodies are for sale in the lobby.  Thank you. 

g

      The Thursday Night game on the NFL network had the Pittsburgh Steelers hosting the Cincinnati Bengals at Heinz Field.  Things got off to a bad start for Steeler’s fans when the Bengals scored first with a touchdown.  Could a  weak 1-8-1 team upset the Steelers?  Nope.  The Steelers started a slow comeback, that had them leading 17-7 at halftime.  This time, Ben didn’t throw an interception in the closing minutes of the first half, as he did in the game against Indianapolis.

     The Bengals, with little experienced quarterback Ryan Fitzpatrick at the helm, had  a difficult time getting much offense going after their early score.  The Steelers also struggled a little on offense, but finally managed to score three touchdowns, which, along with two field goals, made the final score 27-10.   As usual, the Pittsburgh D did an excellent job of holding the Bengals to few yards, both running and passing.  The Steelers have had little problem with their division mates.  Back in October, they did even better against the Bengals, beating them 38-10 at Cincinnati.

     Ben Roethlisberger had another solid game.  He was a little off compared to his performance against San Diego last week, when he managed a 75% completion record and threw for over 300 yards.  On Thursday, he was 17 for 30 in passing for 243 yeards.  But for a second week in a row, there were no interceptions, and Roethlisberger had great protection from the line, avoiding the many sacks of recent games.  There was little apparent evidence of any injury related troubles, and to top things off, Big Ben plowed into the end zone on a short running play to give Pittsburgh its last touchdown.  Santonio Holmes was solid as wide reciever, doing very well until he had to leave the game due to a head injury.  The running game was not quite up to par.  Willie Parker had difficulty in establishing the run, and was injured and replaced by Mewelde Moore, who had a number of solid runs, gaining a total of 56 yards in about a half’s worth of work.  The offense still looks like it needs a little work in scoring touchdowns, and the Steelers will definitely need some.  With five games left in the regular season, Pittsburgh has one of the toughest schedules in the NFL.  They will have to play New England, Dallas, Tennessee and Baltimore, before finishing out the season against Cleveland.  They’ll have to be at their best during the next five weeks.  The Steelers looked better in their last few games, so time will tell.  That’s why they play the game.   Go Steelers.

     The Alaskan Repetory Company is proud to present our latest one-act play entitled Three Politicians in search of an orgasm; or the icepeople cometh. We hope both all our long-time surscribers and new members will enjoy the production:

 Dramatis personae:

 Senator Jack McCrane, old washed-up politico.

Senator Flem Liverspot, slightly younger washed-up politico

Governor Sadie Paleface, vibrant newcomer to the poltical scene.

                                                          Act One

(scene one: the interior of a rustic cabin somewhere in the Yukon river valley. It is simply furnished with a table, a few chairs, a kitchen, and a bed with iron bedsteads. At the table sits McCrane, with a bottle of premium vodka on the table and a glass half-filled with said vodka. McCrane is talking to himself .)

McC:  Damn, with all my years of experience, losing to some guy still wet behind the ears.  The only thing to do to drink myself into a stupor, pretend the whole thing never happened, and maybe, later in the evening, play with myself a little bit. Not much of a future to look forward to. Shit holy.

                                    (a knock sounds on the door)

Oh hell, who could that be. I didn’t even get to drag the old prokchop out and strum it yet. It’s always something (yells in direction of door) Hark. Who dares to knock at my door at this time of night. Identitfy thyself varlet.

                                           (voice at door)

LivSp: It’s me, Liverspot. What the hell is all this hark crap.  Damn, it’s freezing out here. My willy feels like it’s half way up my stomach. Let me in, you old cocksucker, before I smash in your door.

McC:  Cocksucker, why I never, well almost never…Is that you Flem, you old bustard. The door’s not locked you chucklehead. Come on in.

(door opens, Liverspot enters, closes door behind him with a firm push)

Livsp:  What the hell, it’s damn freezing cold out here.  Jesus.  What’s wrong with you. I’ve got an icicle and two tightly packed snowballs in my pants.

McC:  Well, what the hell did you put that in your pants for?

Livsp:  I’m talking about my cock and balls, dummy.  They’re freezing off. Don’t you know what a metaphor is?  I need somewhere to warm them up before they break off.

McC:  Wouldn’t take much.  Dry off by the fireplace.

Livsp:  There is no fireplace now, I’ll have to build one. (quickly builds fireplace) There, that was easier than I thought.  Oh, I’m cold. (throws wood in newlt built fireplace)  Oh that feels better.  I’m warming up now.

McC:  You know what I’d like to see?  I’d like to see your diddlythumper and globals warming out.  See what you’re made up, you old crook.

Livsp:  You’ve seen them many times before and they haven’t changed since the last time we made it.  You’re a gd 24/7 pervert, you know that?

McC:  Yes, I know that.  I thought if I took a few swigs from this bottle, I’d straighten up a bit, but it didn’t work, cause I still want to watch your piddlewiddle warm up.

Livsp:  Oh, alright, you old white-haired damn perv.  But let the fire build up a little warmth first.  My rumplestick and castors are just beginning to warm up, they’re still half-frozen.  Give it a minute.

McC:  Okay, I guess you deserve a little break.  Want a glass of this stuff?  It’ll warm you up as fast as the fire. (pours a clean glass half full of vodka.) Here ya go. (hands glass to Liverspot, show is standing before fire)

Livsp:  Thanks, mighty arctic of you. (takes deep drink) Hey not bad.  I feel warmer already. Even my longstaff is starting to thaw.  Thank goodness, it’s about time.

McC:  Are you really getting warmer.  Good.  I wanna see that broom handle of yours right now, post haste.

Livsp:  Damn ingrate.  Can’t wait a minute can you, you old sod.  Well, I might as well get it over with, stop you drooling on the table.

McC: Oops (wipes drool off table with napkin)

Livsp:  Okay, let me take a sounding(puts hand down into front of pants).  Ah, almost back to normal.

McC:  Alright, let the show begin.

Livsp:  Yes, that feels better, let’s get if over with. (starts taking clothes off, beginning with coat, then shirt, then pants, then tee shirt, then socks, finally removes underpants).  Okay, that feels better. (Liverspot  now completely naked, stands before fire feeling himself, his bare back and ass turned to McC) Oh, now I’m warmed up.  Oh, that fels good.  Mr.  Peepod is ready for action.

McC:  Turn around, I don’t want to see your fat ass, I want to take a look at Sir Whackadoodle.  Come, turn about, and let us see Lord Manthinger in all his glory. (McC starts to drool slowly unto the table).

Livsp: (turns about so that McCrane and the audience can clearly see his erect member and his firm testicles) There, are you happy?  God that feels better now that everything is warm again.  Strange, but I feel like pumping myself, until I come into the fire.  Could that be dangerous?  Will cum conduct the heat?

McC:  Oh, dearest boy, I do not know.  I’m speechless.  I’ve seen it many times before, but here in this cabin, after those drinks, it’s like I’m seeing your Johnnycaker for the first time.  It’s wonderful, so hard, so frim, so red in the firelight.  And the way your globals bounce in the shadows.  Would you grant me just one favor?

Lvsp:  Now what?

McC:  Can I have first crack on stroking your dingleshaft?  You can help yourself anytime you want, but, well…mine isn’t always reliable, and if you could allow me first dibs on yours, I…would be very…gentle.  Would you, dear one?

Livsp:  Oh hell, why not.  We’re stuck in this damn cabin for who knows how long.  Just wash your hands first.  Wait that’s vodka isn’t it?  I have to pee right now.  Isn’t  vodka tasteless.  If I can pee in that bottle, I’ll feel a whole lot better.

McC:  It sure as hell won’t be tasteless after you fill it up.  Be pateint, you can wait.  Now, come over closer to the table and let me get my hands on your poleball and make you climax.

Livsp:  (moves close to table, his erect member more visible to McCrane and audience, it is still extended in a hardy salute) Oh, just get this over with.  Even with all your dumb talk, I’m about to come.  Here, hang on. (he pushes up close to McCrane and thrusts out his stiff manthing, as McCrane gets a grip on it and starts to pump it back and forth).

(Suddenly, there is a knock on the cabin door)

McC, Livsp: (they speak together in surprise)  What the hell.  Who is it?  Damn, what’s with the timing.  What do you want?  Answer us.

At this point in the play, it is a tradition of the Alaskan Repetory Company to take a brief intermission and to continue with the play on the following day.  Please join us tomorrow for more of our premiere performance.

   Our friendly source, who has supplied us with so much material over the last few weeks, had promised us a new treat for today-a short one-act play based on true events.  It chronicled the unusual meeting of three characters in a snowy cabin not far from the Yukon river in Alaska.  The three characters?  Just to give a preview-John McCain, Joe Lieberman and Sarah Palin.  In a bizarre series of twists and turns, their meeting takes numerous strange reversals, leading to one of the strangest sexual congresses ever seen outside of Washington, DC. 

          Unfortunately, due to time constraints and circumstances beyond anyone’s control, the play was not delivered into our hands until much later than we had anticipated.  We thought it would be better to put the play together in presentable form, then just to publish it in its somewhat rough form.  It should be ready sometime tomorrow afternoon, when we hope to present it in all its trashy glory.

     The same trusted source who supplied us with the intimate correspondence between Senators John McCain and Joe Lieberman, has again hit pay dirt. Following is the letter we recieved via our source, this time a communication between Governor and former VP nominee Sarah Palin and  Senator and former presidential nominee John McCain. Contrary to the reports of some recent anonymous soruces, it seems the two got on better than expected. We cannot vouch for the absolute accuracy of our source’s letter, but it is certainly feasible. The letter follows:

     Dear McCainy Guy,

          Can I call you Johnny? Hey, for a pretty cranky old dude, you can really lay it out.  I was switchered when you invited me up to your room at the Hilton in Little Smoke, PA for a late night political ‘working session.’   I really though we were going to go over some talking points for the upcoming campaign appearance in Philly.  I was ready to learn from an old pro like you. So what was I thinkin’ when I knocked on the door, and all I heard was a voice saying ‘come on in and I’ll come in you.’  Whoa boy. I thought it was some kind of joke on poor old little stupid me. Though you was pulling my chain, bro. But you weren’t kiding around.  All by yourself in that big suity thinger, with no aides or anyone else around.  I was really floor scratched when I opened the door, and there you were in bed, all covered up.  Forget bout it.  Then you told me Cindy had left early for Philly and asked me to come closer,  and sit right there on the edge of your bed.   Sit on the bed of the possible next president?  You betcha. I didn’t think twice, just plopped my big rear end right on down.

          I figured you just wanted to get closer to me, you know, some of these old geezers have hearing problems.  That’s probably it.  Of course, when you pulled the covers off, I figured something was up.  Boy was something ever.  I could hardly believe what I was seeing through those designer glasses I was wearing.  Boy, Johhny, your peckerwrecker was quite a sight.  For an old dude, that baby was high and hard.  I just had to grab ahold and start pumping.  Boy, you were really straight and stiff there, man.  Betcha I stroked that sucker for five mintues before she blew.   Whoa, it’s a gusher. 

         Bet that’s the strangest mess those folks have ever cleaned up.  When you come, you don’t kid around boy.  Still can’t believe what an old slicker like you can do.  I really got to say you rock, guy.  I don’t like spreading tales, but my ‘better half,’ you know the first dude dude, well like he’s supposed to be a big tough ironmen guy, but I’ll tell you a little secret.  That man has nothing on you, John.  Compared to what I saw that night he’s just a soft mini you.  He’s not even half the man you are,  Johnny Boy, if you get my meaning. 

        Now that night I was tempted to take it one step further, but I didn’t.  But now, I just might be ready for you to shag a little piece of Palin, me I mean.  After I saw your big mac, well, I want some fries with that dickerwhicker.  So, let’s set up a time and place, that’s good for both of us, so we can get going.  Even as I write this sucker, and it’s taking me a while to get all this stuff together, I’m getting just a little moist at the thought of  you cleaning up my pipeline.  I’ll get back to you soon for more details.  Until then,  keep the good work up, and remember Sarah wants a brand new fur lick from Oldman McCain.  I’ll be waiting for your reply, you little heartbreaker.

Breathlessly yours,

Governor Sarah Palin