Posted in Almost Dorothy, Characters, Family, The Mother, Themes

Dear Sarah Palin, Again

For Trig

In Response To Your Facebook Note on 08/07/2009

For the survivor who chooses to testify, it is clear: his duty is to bear witness for the dead and for the living. He has no right to deprive future generations of a past that belongs to our collective memory. To forget would be not only dangerous but offensive; to forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time.

-Elie Wiesel, Night

sarah palin

“He needed to face the facts of life,” aunt Shelly said about the real Hitler. “That fucking son of a bitch.”

Like I said before, my mother is a fan, but she’s in the woods, crack pipe in hand and desperately seeking aunt Shelly, or someone who will love her back without phobias. That’s why mom loves you and your dangerous offensive because you remind her of Shelly but I told her you’re just a drag queen looking to be loved. I love the fact mom’s insurance only covers 15 psychotherapy sessions a year. It has done wonders for her health and my perspective on socialized medicine. I give her shots of tequila just to keep her calm at night.

Sarah, I’m tired of mom, of your faux feminism, military bravado at the expense of soup, and organized exorcisms. I’m tired of your gotcha dialectics, too.

Did you know my neighbor’s son, who has Down Syndrome, is covered by a God who hasn’t paid the bill yet because Blue Cross and Blue Shield is protecting their profits? His mom wishes she were a senator or a corporate titan, or God, just to get good care. She’s selling the house and moving into her clunker just to pay the bills. The more I delve into the disturbing details of the irrationalized discourse of the nationalized health care plan, by you and your politburo comrades, my collective jaw has dropped, not like a sickle, but like a guillotine on the neck of every Trig without health care. Pardon my French, mademoiselle Palin, but hell no!

For some reason goblins and swastikas have formed a new logic in social discourse, witness the Obama joker poster popping up on the Internet: “Socialism”. Or the one dressing him up as Adolph Hitler. Is this the age of Batman and Robin? Cloak and Dagger? Cagney and Lacey? Or Transformers?

I’ve seen a new kind of dyslexia emerge at school and being worn as a badge of honor in town halls across America. Barn storm troopers and all, rage for a crack at my momma’s bones, decrying the age of humanism, i.e. the end to socialism itself, and chewing gum.

For no reason at all my Aunt Jill (who we also called Aunt Shelly) was tortured and abused by little Nazis during World War II. That was before she became a part-time lesbian. One fish at a time she tried to sabotage the tidal wave of disaster that eventually murdered six million sick, elderly, disabled, and perfectly healthy Jews, blacks, homosexuals, sympathizers and gypsies too, all happy humans just like you and me. She didn’t have to risk her life as a community organizer of sorts, weathering the underground against the chancellor’s wrath, but she did so because she had the biggest fucking cojones I’d ever seen. As a little girl, I was drawn to femme fatales. Now I’m drawn to pigeon coops.

Dear Sarah, I find it offensive that you haven’t come out and posted a Facebook note to honor Aunt Shelly or my penchant for homosexuality. She was the real joker, the hooligan who socked it to Hitler without the promise of Medicare or hot dogs with the works. Did you know that no child born in America is guaranteed health care, not even mine, or the Son of God, or even baby Trig? It’s a shame we aren’t all guaranteed similar things. Did you know pigs can’t fly without wings? Even Icarus had a father who cared about Bigger Things.

I read what you wrote on your Facebook page: That the America you “know and love is not one in which (your) parents or (your) baby with Down Syndrome will have to stand in front of Obama’s ‘death panel’ so his bureaucrats can decide, based on a subjective judgment of their ‘level of productivity in society,’ whether they are worthy of health care. Such a system is downright evil.”

I know you are smart, so I’ll quit soon, but not yet, because I must grizzly and black bear witness for the dead and for the living. Do you know the wo/man in the mirror?

Obama Joker Poster Popping Up In Los Angeles

There are some truths which are so obvious that for this very reason they are not seen or at least not recognized by ordinary people. They sometimes pass by such truisms as though blind and are most astonished when someone suddenly discovers what everyone really ought to know….they imagine that they know practically everything and yet with few exceptions pass blindly by one of the most patent principles of Nature’s rule: the inner segregation of the species of all living beings on this earth.

-Adolf Hitler, Mein Kampf

Dear Sarah, I’m just an ordinary girl living on Earth, a terremoto of sorts in love with extroverts. It’s obvious for reasons I won’t go into that I am blind and unaware of what I ought to know, like the Origin of Species or la cage aux folles. Mind you I’m astonished by human nature, anal sex, and the power of holy matrimony. Practically everything around me is dementia praecox and death panels galore. The only trusim is this: death is the only unavoidable preexisting condition. Mom pays out of pocket for the meds and the rest because she doesn’t have the tits to bring in big enough tips. She’s a 40-year old bartender approaching flabby arms and persistent halitosis, what do you expect?

“It’s true,” she said, all lit up, the abominable snow woman. “Such a system is downright evil, coming between you and me, Aunt Shelly and collective history. I’m proud of you my boy-girl, dressing up like the President, all clown-like and cocky and full of fight.”

“Thanks mom,” I said, as she searched for her woodpecker without a flashlight.

Sarah, I want you to know I love Trig and your right to limbo. I love inclement weather and the Velvet Underground. I love the time it takes for mom to fly off the handle and settle back in line. I love her drool and cursing to Kingdom Come. I love the quantum foam that created us all. I love your nose and mom’s need to grieve. I love bitter chocolate and singles night at the Irish Pub. I love that mom keeps a razor blade close to her bed to remind herself of how close she has come to disaster. Sarah, I imagine that you know practically everything and yet with few exceptions pass blindly by one of the most patent principles of Nature’s rule: the visible segregation of the species of all healthy beings on this earth.

Yours Truly,

The Abominable Snowman & Almost Dorothy


I'm not real, but I'm a writer.

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