|Sarah Palin seen devouring American Political Discourse.|
Sarah. May we call you Sarah? Never mind, we don't actually care. Sarah, we here at Die in a Fire have been struggling with what to do with you. You represent a unique and difficult challenge for our fledgling revenge-zine. Ever since you rose up from the briny depths of American Politics, ripping our legs from under us and leaving us tottering in stunned disbelief, we’ve known that one day we would meet again. Like Zeus, John McCain released you Kraken-style upon the American zeitgeist, his misbegotten political love child birthed from the quivering, crack-addled thighs of Fox News. You are this blog’s raison d’etre, our inspiration...our white whale. Your relentless mangling of logic, common sense and civil behavior wrapped in the mantle of patriotism both horrifies and inspires. Like vengeful monkeys, we will return your lessons upon you tenfold.
We look down at the mangled stump, a reminder of the equilibrium and moderation we've lost. We used to be nice boys. We held the door open for pregnant ladies, gave tourists accurate directions and let people merge in front of us in traffic. Now we are but the twisted remains of those fine young men. And we vow to hunt the seas for signs of the vile spume discharging from your fearsome blowhole. Revenge shall be ours.
Unfortunately, we realize the offenses that would consign an ordinary douchebag to the fire are mere child’s play for an über-douche of your caliber. You’re the Ernst Blofeld of international douches...if douches met in underground volcano lairs, you’d be the douchebag at the end of the table petting the Persian kitty. Your douchebaggery is of such monumental scale that we realize we must bide our time. Your penny-ante, day-to-day nonsense has made it hard for any one thing you do or say to stand out as significant. We must build an airtight case and wait for you to unleash a douche-nami of such staggering scale that no one will dispute your fate.
An example? Of course. One word: “refudiate.” You pulled a George Bush, and made up a word, “Ground Zero Mosque supporters, doesn’t it stab you in the heart as it does our throughout the heartland? Peaceful Muslims, please refudiate.” Repudiate? Refute? Who knows, and apart from the whole stabbing in the heart bit, who cares? We all misspeak, and we all misspell. Actually, up until this point we have no real issue. But then you went and deleted the first tweet and followed it up with this, "'Refudiate,' 'misunderestimate,' 'wee-wee'd up.' English is a living language. Shakespeare liked to coin new words too. Got to celebrate it!” What the fuck? Seriously?
English is a living language? Check. Agreed.
Shakespeare liked to coin new words? Check. Agreed.
Got to celebrate it? Sure? But by being an assclown?
The difference? Are you kidding? You need us to explain how you are different from Shakespeare? Come on, Snoop Dogg (who has eleven braincizzells left) has made up his share of words but even he knows better than to claim common ground with the Bard of Avon. Fine, fine, we’ll explain: Shakespeare did it on purpose, you fucking banshee. “Coin” implies intent, not spontaneous dyslexia. Do you even know how hard it is to make coins? I painted the guest bedroom last week. I accidentally spilled some paint on the floor. “What?” I said, defensively. “Jackson Pollock spilled paint too. Got to celebrate it!” What? What!? No. Nice try, “irregardless” of outcome, intent is a critical path, Sarah. Jackson Pollock made art; I made a mess. William Shakespeare was a towering figure in world literature; you just aren't that bright or well-educated (even by 17th century standards). Can you appreciate the difference? But as long as we’re talking about intent...we want to incinerkillinafireu. God, we love a living language.
Yup, anyone else...bonfire city. But you? This would be like sending Bernie Madoff to jail for shoplifting a pack of gum. Can’t do it. Why? Because we know you can do better. As scary as it is to admit, deep down in a place that we don’t stick in the mashed potatoes at parties, we want to see your masterpiece. We need to see it. Even if we can’t handle it. So bring it, you big beautiful white grizzly-whale. We’ll be waiting on the roiling high seas of American culture, flaming harpoon in hand. And so we leave you with the paraphrased curse of another batshit crazy, hate-filled sea captain, “to the last we grapple with thee; from hell's heart we stab at thee; for hate's sake we spit our last breath at thee...anyone bring a lighter?”