Internal Memo: Sarah Palin

Another Freedom Day has passed and if it isn’t bright sunshine morning spreading its rosy-fingered lipstick out all over that

Another Freedom Day has passed and if it isn’t bright sunshine morning spreading its rosy-fingered lipstick out all over that greatest force for good in a world of brazen, extremist, pornographying, chain-smoking, pot-snorting liberal media outlets, America. And the America we have today is a far hue and cry from the unicorn ranch in fantasyland where until a few hours ago the liberals of this great God-foreshortened country of ours lived as permanent residents, sniffing pixie dust all day long and dreaming up the socialist polygons and death panel discussions that have crippled our roaring economy and shackled it to the very bone.

And what was life like on that little unicorn ranch where the liberals were living? After a breakfast of cigarettes, snuff porn and speculation about the true origins of my God-given offspring Trig and his miraculous birth after a long labor flying from Texas all over real America to our perfect home state of Alaska, they sit around watching the unicorns graze, sipping their lattes with soy milk and pixie dust, while the farm chores are done by naturalized illegal immigrants not too different from the refuseniks in the Soviet White Russian Gulags I could see from my window until the Cold War was won by another great conservative who was mocked and deridiculed by those Beltway unicorn farmers, Ronald Reagan, and that’s why I’m out here today and not in some stuffy political office, smoking cigarettes and watching pornos.

And in the evening time while real Americans watch real TV shows like DWTS, with our very own Bristol, or Glenn Beck, with his real and true lessons from books by Adam Joseph Smith and Francisco Van Hayak, the liberal unicorn farmers are tuned into the NPR echo chamber bereft now of Juan Williams, who knows that to see a man in some Muslim garb in an airport is like a stab in the heart of real America. Then the liberals make some plans to hike taxes, close mines and dismantle offshore drill, baby, drilling facilities, then they tune into some soft-porn show about smoking cigarettes called Mad Men.

But you know what the worst of it is? The unicorns! These animals should roam free the way God made them and this great country, free of deficits, entitlements, subsidies, regulations, bureaucracies, bailouts, Obamacare, Medicare, Social Security, cap and slave, welfare and the death tax. Unicorns belong in the wild! And somebody asked me the other day, Sarah, have you ever hunted a unicorn? I said, where do you think I got this nail polish? It’s unicorn blood! First, you creep up on a herd of unicorns in your snowmobile, get one in the cross hairs, and pow! Then, if you want to do it the way we do in Alaska, you take a little saw out of your purse, saw off the horn of the beast and use its sharp point to disembowel the unicorn on the spot. Come the weekend, you can have the whole town over for a unicorn barbecue. And don’t forget, all you small-business owners out there, to skin the unicorn for a cozy winter sweaters, and there’s nothing like unicorn hooves for brewing up homemade glue!


Internal Memo: Sarah Palin