Godammit, I’m Mad!

It was almost sad, but you know, it wasn’t! It felt good to see Grandpa wandering around like an arthritic midget, baring his horrible teeth in a mean grimace. He was Danny DeVito to Obama’s Fred Astaire.

Who would you choose to run the country: An angry hissing old bastard who can’t open his mouth without lying, or a gracious, brainy idealist who is comfortable in his own skin?

Unless an October Surprise of monumental import comes to pass, Obama has it in the bag.

Just to cover the main points of the evening:

1. How many “My Friends” can anyone take?? All My Friends actually sent me text messages that began with the words “My Friends!” (I texted in reply, “U Hate Freedom!”)

2. Grandpa’s whistling S’s inspired a Whistling S contest between me and my nephew. I won!

3. No one left me any chicken wings! Fuckers.

Ah, but how gratifying to hear the post-debate blather at CNN. They all admitted that Grandpa was a repellent little shit. Not in those exact words, though.

Did everybody see McCain refuse to shake Obama’s hand? Nice touch, Grandpa! Now, we must turn our attention to Mrs. P, who probably thinks she holds the winning hand.

Is anyone surprised that Grandpa’s campaign has finally deployed their secret weapon….Obama’s middle name?

Gosh darnit, some prick who introduced Mrs. P to a Nazi rally in Clearwater Florida busted out with “Barack Hussein Obama” to huge applause. The implication of course is that Obama is a Muslim terrorist, not in fact the idealistic all-American family man he’s pretending to be.

While Mrs. Palin incited the crowd by accusing Obama of harboring terrorist feelings about Our Great Country, her audience screamed their support. The cry of “Kill him!” could be heard.

Thanks, Sarah!

Meanwhile, Grandpa is practically foaming at the mouth. I am braced for the absolute worst in his debate tactics. He’ll probably say that Obama is not only a terrorist but a Black Panther.  You should take the time to read this sobering biography of  John McCain, which reveals in detail why our “Maverick” is really a shameless liar and life-long opportunist whose temperament makes him unfit for the job of President.

God I hate that fucking bastard. Shall we select “POW” as our drinking word for tomorrow night? Other suggestions?

It’s going to be really, really ugly, people. If you haven’t joined PAP Smear, it’s not too late. Our Chief Political Strategist, annemarie, stands at the ready to give you an assignment.

* On a happier note, Sister Wolf was invited to talk about Mrs. P on Australian radio! It was very exciting. The charming host, Michelle Crowther, warned her audience that I am a “potty mouth,” but I was miraculously able to avoid swearing. Shit! You can listen by clicking on the little headphone and the date 5/10/08.

Long ago, in a galaxy known as Coggles.com, I was dazzled by a Vivienne Westwood tiara with little diamante devil horns. It was a replica of the one Viv wore to meet the Queen of England. It was way out of my price range, but I was brokenhearted when it disappeared from the website.

Now that I’ve decided to renounce internet shopping, I have come upon this tiara again.

Fuck. Is it a test of my character, by god or the devil? Is it a cosmic joke on me? Or is it simply a fucking bummer?

I want these devil horns. I need them. I could wear them with everything, or nothing. They were obviously meant just for me. They cost around $450.

I know in the rational part of my brain that they won’t bring happiness. They will just add to the crap-heap of my life, the tons of hoarded belongings that could have fed most of Sub-Saharan Africa if their cost was added up.

But the primitive credit-card wielding part of my brain that reacts wildly to sparkly things is going “Oooh, it’s too beautiful to pass up!”

Can anyone help put me out of my misery? I need to be convinced not to make this purchase. Or maybe the opposite.

*Don’t worry, PAP Smear members.  We wil reconvene tomorrow night. It’s getting uglier by the minute.

If it weren’t for Tina Fey, how many of us would have killed ourselves by now? Tina Fey is all that stands between nervousness and mass hysteria. When you laugh at Tina’s Sarah Palin, the laughter is coming from a very dark place, a place where you want to see an ambition-crazed Bible thumper torn to pieces by starving polar bears.

Tina, please accept an honorary membership in PAP Smear, and the title of Blessed Catharsis!

Since things aren’t looking too good for Grandpa, Mrs. P says that “..now the heels are on, the gloves come off!” What the heck is she sayin’???? Is this a dominatrix reference, to excite the Republican base? Or is it just stripper talk?  PAP Smear decoders, get to work!

So now that the gloves are off,  Mrs. P is accusing Obama of  “palling around with terrorists who would target their own country.” Oh, please. GONG! Get her off the stage already.

If you want to really get scared, read this op ed piece in The New York Times about Palin’s ominous desire to be President.  Make sure you’ve got a handful of Xanax or a YouTube video of Tina Fey qued up.

So, looking ahead, what magic word will you be looking for in the Tuesday debate between Grandpa and Obama?  I’m guessing Grandpa will finally yell ‘Horseshit!’ Wouldn’t that be mavericky?!

*Update: Thanks to the diligence of our own OMGGMAB, we have this exciting clip of the Castro Brothers.

People, what is there to say? I know we are all still feeling hung-over from the “debate.” By now we all have discussed our favorite moments with friends and loved ones. The winks and nose-wrinkling. The doggone it. The Say it ain’t so, Joe. The kitchen table was invoked so often, it should have been allowed to have its own podium.

And what about the Castro Brothers? I have never heard that term in my life. The Castro Brothers? Did Grandpa make that one up for her? Was she really trying to say The Coen Brothers? Didn’t they make “Fargo,” where she got that accent from? Am I on to something, people?!

Let’s redouble our efforts to bring down this loathsome imbecile. Someone will have to research the entire Coen Brothers catalogue, to see if there are more code words we are missing.

Also, we need someone to compile a glossary of Palinspeak. “Maverick” clearly means “nuts” but I’m a little shaky on the rest of it.

We need to find out where Palin’s top lip went. Where the hell is it? I see the tattooed lipliner, yes, but where is the lip itself? Did she give it to the Pig, or is that something else? Help me, people, I cannot do this alone.

When Biden got all teary eyed, Mrs. Palin was like a block of ice. From that good state of Alaska, so near to Putin’s rearing head. A colder woman would be hard to imagine. I think she verified her steely heartlessness when she was finally passed the family mascot, poor little Trig, who was somehow sound asleep. She hit him on the back, over and over, even though sleeping infants DON’T NEED TO BURP! She finally succeeded in waking him up, the better to show off his little “Special Needs” features.

This bitch must die. I’m not advocating violence, no no no no. No sirree bob, heck no. But neither am I waving the white flag of surrender. When I say she should die, I am merely giving a shout out to the third grade. Hi, kids! Extra credit if you kill that mean Church Lady!

What was I saying again? Oh, never mind, I don’t have to follow a format, I want to speak directly to the people. People, would you like to see me keep on fighting this fight, or would you rather see more diversity here? I believe I used to have more on my mind. Perhaps I should try to access that other area of my dwindling brain.

*Also, you can now reach me at Sisterwolf666@gmail.com if you need to contact me. If you want to be on my blogrolll thing, let me know.

I know it’s not just me, because I went to a dinner where everyone was shouting across the table about Sarah Palin. I am now feeling resentful toward CBS, which keeps dribbling out more pieces of Katie Couric’s interview with that fucking moron. Can’t we just get it over with?! It’s starting to feel like an ongoing root canal of a great big molar.

Try reading Mrs. P’s answer when Katie Couric asked her if she disagreed with any Supreme Court decisions besides Roe vs Wade:

“Well, I could think of, of any again, that could be best dealt with on a more local level. Maybe I would take issue with. But you know, as mayor, and then as governor and even as a vice president, if I’m so privileged to serve, wouldn’t be in a position of changing those things but in supporting the law of the land as it reads today.”

How could Katie manage to contain herself?!  This sort of gibberish has inspired a Palinism Generator (thanks,  Nick, for finding it!)  My webmaster was nice enough to modify it slightly and here is our new version.

But it doesn’t stop there.  Here’s what Palin said in an interview with talk-show host Hugh Hewitt:

“It’s time that normal Joe Six-pack American is finally represented in the position of vice presidency.” [No, it isn't! ] “I know what Americans are going through. Todd and I, heck, we’re going through that right now even as we speak, which may put me again kind of on the outs of those Washington elite who don’t like the idea of just an everyday, working-class American running for such an office.”

Can’t you just hear that inexplicably Fargo-esque accent and diction??

She ends up revealing that the First Dude lost $20,000 from his 401(k) retirement account last week.  Wow, how the hell do you get to lose that much if you’re just, you know, Joe Six-Pack??

Here’s how: Regular ol’ Mrs. P is worth $1.2 million! How does she manage to look so trashy with that kind of money?!  Please, god, make that question come up in the debate!

In honor of the Jewish New Year, I am now ready to reveal my personal history with Sarah “Dumbass” Palin. We met during the Miss Alaska competition in 1984. Sarah was a total cunt even then, but she sucked up enough to be anointed with the Miss Congeniality award.  She knew I was a much better flautist, and this bothered her so much that she spiked me with her cheap high heel just before the talent competition. I nearly bled to death backstage, but she never even apologized.

After humiliating herself with Katie Couric, Mrs. P had the audacity to return for another round, only this time she brought Grandpa to defend her. Watch Grandpa’s body language in this video as he tries not to explode and bash Katie Couric’s head in. I’d like to examine Cindy McCain for bruises, because it’s clear the Grandpa is a fucking vicious maniac.

Mrs. P is heading to Grandpa’s ranch in Arizona to “prepare” for her debate with Biden on Thursday. Which of the following scenarios is most likely to transpire?

1. The McCain operatives implant a chip in Palin’s head, enabling her to understand big words?
2. Track gets taken out by the CIA.
3. Biden comes down with the Black Plague.
4. Bristol has a miscarriage, requiring Mother’s presence at her bedside.
5. Bush has to bomb Iran late Thursday afternoon.
6. God sends word of an early Apocalypse.
7. The stock market collapses so thoroughly that all TV broadcasting must stop.
8. Grandpa threatens to expose Palin’s one grainy porn video unless she drops out as his VP.

Cast your vote or submit your own prediction!

My Best Friend’s Girl

This is a godawful romantic comedy that grates on the nerves and delivers another worthless performance by Kate Hudson in the role of a smiley airhead/vixen. Dane Cook is predictably repellent as the wise-cracking love-interest. The plot is familiar and the dialogue runs the gamut from excruciating to enraging. The only point of interest is the question of why Kate Hudson keeps getting paid to make movies that tank. Why can’t she go away and leave us the fuck alone?!

Nights in Rodanthe

Here are Richard Gere and Diane Lane paired again after making that thriller where she cheats on him with a yummy foreign guy. This time, love blossoms between Gere and Lane just when they’ve given up hope of ever finding Mr/Ms. Right! The romantic locales and the surging soundtrack provide the perfect background for these two glamorous Botox addicts to show how much they can fake emotion.  But where is the gerbil?? Expect laughter and tears from the desperate spinsters in the audience. Only see this movie if you need to take your mom somewhere for a couple of hours.

Body of Lies

Leonardo Dicaprio turns in another impressive performance as a haunted man with conflicting loyalties. Leo runs around trying not to get killed as he attempts to sort out the truth about something. Russell Crowe is the perfect foil for Leo, in a role that shows how different he looks when he changes his hairstyle. It’s a battle of wits as Leo and Russell fight against the clock to come to a concluding chase scene that will have you saying “No wonder Leo gets all those supermodels!” As Imelda Matt writes, “….a wankfest!”

The Women

This is a debacle that will make you thankful for your own face when you get home and look in the mirror. A terrible excuse for a chick movie, The Women is a pathetic stab at revamping the career of Med Ryan, featuring a bunch of actresses you don’t care about except for Eva Mendes, just a little bit, because she hasn’t made you detest her yet. Give her time. Do not even think of renting this movie when it comes out on DVD unless you want to contemplate killing yourself.

*NOTE: I canceled the Weekend Festival of Hate in order to maintain my hatred-level for PAP Smear.

At the time, I could hear him make some kind of sound, but I thought Grandpa was just hissing when Obama called him out for not knowing who the president of Spain is.

But ha ha, the old maverick actually sneered and said “Horseshit!” On the one hand, old men should be allowed to curse once in awhile, but on the other hand, we can’t have a crazy old ticking time-bomb in charge of the Free World! When he’s not busy calling Cindy a cunt, Grandpa’s always causing some kind of drama, isn’t he?

On the Church Lady front, Matt Taibbi gives a trenchant analysis of her, here.  Describing Mrs. Palin’s speech at the RNC, he says: “It was like watching Gidget address the Reichstag.” He is one furious, eloquent Palin Hater, and a tough act to follow, so I won’t even try.

However! Grandpa’s team is said to be predicting a big October wedding for Bristol and Levi, who are now POWs just like Grandpa was. The wedding will provide more drama and distraction, while the economy sinks like the fucking Titanic!

This could mean good news for the otherwise doomed Track Palin (see Mark’s predictions in the previous post.) But the horror……and with Putin watching the whole thing from up in the sky!

PAP Smear will convene on Monday night, if Bex can wait that long.

Tomorrow, I’m planning an all new Weekend Festival of Hate.

Last night, I was summoned by George W (described by a talking head on CNN as a ‘high-functioning moron’ in a rare moment of candor) and Grandpa to meet with Sarah Palin in her home-state, Alaska. She had fled there after suffering a nervous breakdown on national TV, due to a ruthless interrogation by Katie “Mengele” Couric. Even Grandpa himself couldn’t have stood up to this kind of merciless torture.

Sarah looked freshly tanned, but a little shaky. She led me outside to her backyard and pointed out Russia. Sure enough, I could see Putin in Alaska’s airspace! What the hell was he doing? Sarah started running around in little circles. It wasn’t panic; it was more like she was dribbling an imaginary basketball.

I helped Todd and Levi carry her to her bed, where we managed to sedate her by reading the bible and injecting some thorazine into her one remaining functional vein. Everyone wandered outside to watch Putin up in the sky. Little Trig tried to wave. Or maybe Piper was just flipping him around. Bristol’s water broke, but her dad advised her to ignore it until after the election.

When I arrived home, exhausted but proud to have been of service, I received this email from Sarah, who has managed to open a new Yahoo account with only a little help from Piper. I don’t think Mrs. P would mind if I share her letter with the good citizens of our exceptional democracy.

Dear Sister Wolf,

Our visit was so cool and awesome. I know you and John McCain agree that I can see Russia and that such as. The people in Russia who share our border and who fly around dropping the things and we must be prepared for the terrorists over there and not here on our own democratic soil as I have said as Governor many, many times. A pitbull is now overhead in the sky but haha I’m a hockey mom so I know what to do.

The First Dude is out with Bristol somewhere, and I know they are praying for John McCain to save this Fannie Mac type economy that the taxpayers must not blink! Not at all Charlie, no blinking, none. Nada.

John McCain is the answer to this country’s change, as I have said to the people, thanks but no thanks. That was when they asked me to take down the beehive. Over my dead body will I cave in to liberal elitists on the hair issue. No blinking on that one.  Now McCain is hinting that I could best help this great exceptional country by taking a trip on an ice floe.  I will pray on it and then decide what God wants from me.  I can’t second guess Israel and neither can John McCain or that fucking bitch Katie Couric, excuse my French.

Again, I did not blink nor will I second guess Israel, or second guess what Israel may or may not or may yet want to do. Nor should we second guess Israel.

<3 Sarah