The Palin Prophecies: The Mavericks, Act I

I was flyin’ down to take on Biden in the Big Debate on one of John-John’s planes (he’s got a bunch). I was watchin’ this movie, a Clint Eastwood western, to get my testosterone levels up and show me some good mad faces to imitate. But I fell asleep. And while I was sleepin’  I had this nightmare. It seemed so real, so terrifyin’….yup yup….My brain is gettin’ ready for the big day….

Setting: D.C. (the District of Crawford), a sprawling, lawless territory in Texas

Cast of Characters:
The Decider – Mayor of D.C. (the District of Crawford) and propietor of the Chickenhawk Ranch
Big Dick Cheney – his foreman
Alberto Gonzales – the crooked sheriff of D.C.
The Maverick – Hotheaded gunslinger and owner of more ranches in D.C. than he can count
Calamity Sarah – The Maverick’s sidekick, a pistol-packing, sure-shot frontierswoman
Rummy – Rich ranch-owner, an old buddy of The Decider
Hal Burton – The richest man in D.C.; he owns the town
Condy – A dance hall queen. She is in love with The Decider
Ben Lawdin – Leader of a band of outlaws, he has declared war on D.C.
Sammy Hussein – Propietor of the I-Rock Ranch and old enemy of The Decider
Ahmadinejad – Propietor of the I-Ranch
The Peons – Minimum wage laborers of the town and its various ranches
Barry O’Bama – A greenhorn community organizer from the east, come to town to help the townsfolk

ACT I

Main Street in D.C. The town is in disarray. Several of the buildings are on fire. Townsfolk run panicking willy-nilly through the streets. A rider, bitter-faced and grimacing under the wide brim of a 10-gallon hat, holding a shotgun in his right hand, careens into town on his horse, which leans far to the right, due to the fact that there is a wheeled sidecar attached. Inside the sidecar sits a man wearing a blank expression and an enormous white cowboy hat. The horse and sidecar pull up in front of The Republican Saloon, where Alberto Gonzales, Hal Burton, and Rummy greet them.

RUMMY: Howdy, Big Dick. Er, Decider, how come you’re ridin’ in that funny contraption? What happened to your horse?

BIG DICK: (Spits a wad of tobacco juice on Rummy’s boot) Dog-gone it, Rummy, how many times do I got to tell you? The Decider’s afraid of horses. Has been his whole life.

THE DECIDER: (Climbing out of the sidecar) Howdy Rummy, Bert, Hal. What’s all the commotion?

HAL BURTON: Dadgum it, Decider, where you been? We had us a stampede! A buncha Mexicans ‘er somethin’ come a-rippin’ through town with a herd o’ cattle, a rootin’ and a-tootin’, runnin’ people over, shootin’ their pistoleros everywhere. Dern near burned the whole town down! (He raises his boot and looks at the sole, grimacing) Left their steamin’ cow pies everywhere!

THE DECIDER: Shoot Hal, I been out to the Chickenhawk, clearin’ brush.

HAL BURTON: Clearin’ brush? Again? Dad-bern it, Decider, that’s all you been doin’ since I made you Mayor nine months ago–clearin’ brush! You’re supposed to be here in town, keepin’ an eye on things…

THE DECIDER: Well heck, Hal, you misunderestimate me. That’s what I hired Bert for, to keep an eye on things. He’s the Sheriff.

HAL BURTON: That nitwit? Why, I wouldn’t hire him to polish my spittoons. He can scarcely buckle his pants, the lame-brained fool!

They look over at Alberto, who stands at attention and salutes. His pants promptly fall down.

HAL BURTON: See, what’d I tell ya?

Suddenly the saloon door swings open and Dan Quayle, an empty-headed dude, steps out.

THE DECIDER: Quayle!

BIG DICK: Where? (Wheels wildly around with his shotgun, firing. A blast of pellets strike Rummy in the face and he falls to the ground, writhing in pain. Quayle screams and runs back into the saloon)

THE DECIDER: Damn, Big Dick, you shot Rummy in the face.

BIG DICK: So? (Spits a wad of tobacco juice on Rummy’s boot as it kicks spasmodically in the dirt) You oughta know better than to yell “Quail!” around me.

ALBERTO GONZALES: (bending over and pulling up his pants) Poor Rummy. Someone shoulda yelled “Duck!”

BIG DICK: Where? (Wheels wildly around with his shotgun, firing again. A man standing across the street suddenly screams, holding his face, and collapses to the ground, writhing in agony)

HAL BURTON: Damnit, Big Dick, you done it again. You shot that feller in the face.

BIG DICK: So? (Spits a wad of tobacco juice on Hal Burton’s boot)

HAL BURTON: (Looks down at the tobacco juice on his boot and rubs at it with his other boot) Gentlemen, please, can we return to the business at hand?

THE DECIDER: What’s that, Hal?

Barry O’Bama suddenly steps around the corner and into the conversation.

BARRY: The stampede. All this…destruction. Someone’s got to pay! We’ve got to find whoever did this and bring them to justice!

THE DECIDER: Who the H-E-double hockey sticks is this fancypants dude?

BARRY: (Tipping his bowler hat) I’m Barry O’Bama, Community Organizer.

THE DECIDER: Communial what?

BARRY: Community Organizer. I’m here to organize the good citizens of the District of Crawford. Help them out. Teach them how to help themselves pull themselves up by their bootstraps and get jobs. Good jobs, with health care benefits and higher wages than what you’ve been paying them.

BIG DICK: (Spits a wad of tobacco juice on Barry O’Bama’s patent-leather shoes) Go uckfay yourself, greenhorn.

THE DECIDER: (Laughs idiotically) Yeah, Mister Arugula-Eatin’ Liberal Elite. Go commune with your organ somewhere’s else, before you really make Big Dick mad.

BARRY: Thanks, but I think I’ll stay.

THE DECIDER: Suit yourself. But see you keep your fancy elitist ideas to yourself. We don’t like uppity eastern agitators out here in Crawford. Now, Hal, anyone see who these evildoers were that stampeded through town?

HAL BURTON: Well, uh, yeah. A buncha the peons said it was Ben Lawdin and his men.

BIG DICK: Are ya sure it wasn’t Sammy Hussein and his outfit from over to the I-Rock Ranch?

THE DECIDER: Yeah! I’ll bet that’s who it was! Sammy Hussein–he once threatened to kill my dad!

HAL BURTON: No, it was Ben Lawdin all right. He even left this note. (Pulls out a piece of paper and reads from it) “We take credit for this stampede against D.C. Signed, Ben Lawdin and his Elk-Ida
outlaws”

BIG DICK: (Leans over and snatches the paper out of Hal Burton’s hands) Lemme see that. Hmmm. (Spits a wad of tobacco juice on the paper) Looks like Sammy Hussein’s handwriting all right.

THE DECIDER: Yeah, it does! Come to think of it, we passed old Colin Powell on the way in here. He said he saw Sammy Hussein and a bunch of those I-Rock hands runnin’ a herd a cattle this-a-way…

BIG DICK: (Looks slyly at The Decider and grins evilly) Say, that’s right, we did, didn’t we! Hey, Bert, did you see ‘em? Wasn’t it Hussein and his I-Rock bunch come a stampedin’ through town causin’
all this commotion?

ALBERTO GONZALES: (Looks confused at Big Dick, lets go of his pants to scratch his head. As he does so, his pants fall down again) Uhhh, gee Big Dick, I was in church with Monica Goodling. She’s got such purdy hair. I didn’t see nuthin…

Big Dick nudges The Decider, who then kicks Bert in the shin.

ALBERTO GONZALES: (Hopping) Ow! What you do that for, George?

THE DECIDER: Hey Bert, there’s winders in that church there, ain’t they? Like, them fancy painted winders?

ALBERTO: Painted winders? I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, George…

BIG DICK: I think he means stained glass windows, is what he means, Bert. Didn’t you peek out them stained glass windows when all that commotion was goin’ on and see Sammy Hussein and his I-Rock bunch stampedin’ through town?

BARRY O’BAMA: Now wait just a dog-gone minute. You heard him. He didn’t see anything…

BIG DICK: (Pointing his shotgun toward O’Bama) Shut up, you, ‘er I’ll give you a pepperin’. (He swings the shotgun toward Bert) Now, Bert, you saw Hussein and the I-Rock boys, didn’t you?

ALBERTO: (Grinning stupidly and scratching his head) I did?

THE DECIDER: There, see? That there is what you call an eyewitness-type situation.

BIG DICK: Yeah.  (Spits another wad of tobacco juice onto the ground) We’re gonna need to gather a posse and go round up Hussein and these I-Rock terrorists. Otherwise, they’ll come back and do it again. It’s an imminent threat to the town of D.C.

THE DECIDER: That’s right. (He looks confused) Inniment.

BARRY O’BAMA: Now just who do you think you’re gonna get to join this posse of yours? All these folks here know the truth. They know this Sammy Hussein had nothing to do with it. They want to go get Ben Lawdin. I know. I’ve talked to them. They’re sensible people. They’re not about to be hoodwinked by your under-handed shenanigans.

THE DECIDER: The dude’s got a point, Big Dick. He’s funny-lookin’, and he uses big words, some of which I misunderstand, but he’s got a point. We need to make the pie higher.

BIG DICK: You’re right. You’re a moron, but you’re right. We’re gonna need someone to run herd over these peons. Someone they trust.

THE DECIDER: You mean like a hero?

BIG DICK: Hmmm, a hero. Yes, a war hero.

THE DECIDER: Heck, that leaves out you and me, Big Dick. When I was s’posed to join the army, my daddy got me out of it.

BIG DICK: Yes, and I had other priorities.

THE DECIDER: (Snaps his fingers) I know! The Maverick!

HAL BURTON: The Maverick? Oh, no. That sumbitch is crazy as an outhouse rat!

ALBERTO: He’s scary!

RUMMY: (Sitting up with a bloody face) He’s insane!

WOUNDED MAN ACROSS STREET: (Sits up with bloody face) He’s old!

THE DECIDER: He’s old AND insane!

BIG DICK: So insane that it just might work! Bert, bring me the Maverick!

ALBERTO: Aw, why me? The Maverick scares me!

THE DECIDER: Chicken!

BIG DICK: Where? (Wheels wildly around with his shotgun, firing again. A man standing across the street screams, holding his face, and collapses to the ground)

THE DECIDER: (Wincing) Oooh. My bad.

Big Dick looks at Alberto, spitting a wad of tobacco on his shoe. Alberto stoops over and pulls his pants up, then salutes, and, as his pants fall down again, runs over and jumps on his horse. He rides off to find The Maverick, then suddenly stops, turns his horse around and rides back to the saloon.

ALBERTO: Uhh, George, where am I s’posed to find this Maverick feller?

THE DECIDER: How should I know? Try one of his ranches.

ALBERTO: But which one? He’s got seven or eight of ‘em.

BIG DICK: Try ‘em all, every last one of ‘em until you find him! (He pumps his shotgun) And Bert, if you don’t find The Maverick, don’t bother comin’ back.

Alberto blanches, then turns his horse and rides off.

THE DECIDER: Damn, Big Dick, sometimes I wonder if our children is learnin’ at all. (He rolls up his sleeves) Come on, let’s go clear some brush. Daddy wants to build another golf course at the
Chickenhawk.

The Decider walks over and climbs into the sidecar while Big Dick, grumbling and grousing, reluctantly walks over and climbs onto his horse. They ride off down the street, through the rubble and fire, into the sunset.

The Palin Prophecies

Yup! Yup! Nuckin’ Futs!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Brent Mooseburger, Alaskan Pentecostal sports reporter, has been selected, much to his surprise, by God Our Heavenly Father as the man to channel Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin’s messages to the American people, since neither she nor God trust the elite media. In this almost-daily blog, Mr. Mooseburger will decode Palin’s prophecies for a nu-clear age. Reader responses are not welcome, unless you show the proper respect and deference.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The Palin Prophecies are archived at www.thepalinprophecies.com. KenArnoldBooks will be publishing Brent Mooseburger’s messages as he channels them. His inspirational messages will be collected into an ebook sometime in October and published by KenArnoldBooks on Amazon Kindle. Entries are copyrighted by KenArnoldBooks, LLC.

The Palin Prophecies: Sarah Prays for Sarah

Lordy, Lord, what am I gonna do, they’re laughin’….I mean, no: Dear Father God in Heaven, which art nearest Alaska, I pray that you’ll get me out of these messy interviews and slay somebody. I don’t mean Obama because that would be against the law, but maybe just all the heathern TV reporters, especially that Witch Katie Couric.  So I ask you Lord right now, lay your hands on my hairdo (careful not to muss it, though)and bless my mission, which is for you, after all. I mean, Don’t you get it? I’M DOIN’ THIS FOR YOU?!! Ok. Get busy makin’ me famous. In Jesus name. Amen.

The Palin Prophecies

Yup! Yup! Nuckin’ Futs!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Brent Mooseburger, Alaskan Pentecostal sports reporter, has been selected, much to his surprise, by God Our Heavenly Father as the man to channel Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin’s messages to the American people, since neither she nor God trust the elite media. In this almost-daily blog, Mr. Mooseburger will decode Palin’s prophecies for a nu-clear age. Reader responses are not welcome, unless you show the proper respect and deference.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The Palin Prophecies are archived at www.thepalinprophecies.com. KenArnoldBooks will be publishing Brent Mooseburger’s messages as he channels them. His inspirational messages will be collected into an ebook sometime in October and published by KenArnoldBooks on Amazon Kindle. Entries are copyrighted by KenArnoldBooks, LLC.

The Palin Prophecies: Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus and He’s Goin’ Down

Since John McCain suspended his campaign FOR AWHILE–except for all those offices in Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, Florida, Virginia, West Virginia, Colorado, Nevada, New Hampshire, North Carolina, New Mexico, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Missouri and a few other states where they’re still campaignin’ as usual–and except for all those TV ads he’s still runnin’–so he could focus on the economic crisis, and decided he shouldn’t debate Barack Obama–you know, ’cause he’s puttin’ country first, we decided that instead of that debate, what we’d do is have a substitute debate instead. And in that substitute debate, it would be me versus someone else on another ticket.

Well, it was kinda last minute, so really the only candidate we could find who could debate me on such short notice was this guy from  Nevada, Thomas O’Connor, who changed his name to Santa Claus, and he’s on the ballot in 16 states as a candidate for President. So here it is, the debate between me and Santa Claus. (Pre-recorded, by the way, so we could fix any mistakes. Good thing, ’cause I heard there was a debate yesterday, which I missed, ’cause I was busy.)

JIM LEHRER: Good evening. Welcome to the first, uh, Presidential Debate. Tonight, we’re going to focus primarily on foreign policy issues. And I’d like to start by asking this question of both of you.
First, Governor Palin, what foreign policy experience do you have?

SARAH: Well Jim, as you know, since Russia is next to Alaska, every time Putin rears his head and comes into the airspace of the United States of America, where do they go?

JIM LEHRER: You’re asking me?

SARAH: It’s what you call a rhetorical question, Jim. The answer is Alaska. ‘Cause of the airspace.

JIM LEHRER: All right, sometimes the Russians do violate our airspace. But when they do that, isn’t it the job of the United States military to respond to that? As Governor of the state of Alaska, you don’t really have anything to do with that, do you?

SARAH: Since I’m the executive of that state that’s right next door to Putin’s head-rearin’, you bet your sweet bippy I do.

JIM LEHRER: In what respect, Governor?

SARAH: In what respect, Jim?

JIM LEHRER: Uh, OK. Santa? How about you?

SANTA: Well, heck, seein’ as how I live in the North Pole, I guess that makes me a foreign policy expert, too. I mean, when Putin’s rearin’ his head up there, if she can see it, I can see it. And don’t forget, I know if Putin’s been naughty or nice when he’s rearin’ his head. And if he don’t want a lump o’ coal in his sock come Christmas, he’d damn well better watch his Commie butt.

JIM LEHRER: All right, let’s move on now to Iraq. Governor Palin, should you become President, would you end the war in Iraq?

SARAH: Well, let me just say this. I strongly disagree with Barack Obama’s policy of wavin’ the white flag of surrender there. I mean, let’s remember who attacked who on 9-11. It was Iraq that attacked us, ok, and I strongly favor fightin’ the terrorists over there so we don’t have to fight them over here.

JIM LEHRER: But Iraq didn’t attack us, Governor.

SARAH: Sure they did, Jim. It’s in the Bush Doctrine. Look it up. You see, I’ve been studyin’ up on this for the past several weeks, since those reporters. . . .oh, I don’t know. Can I get a drink of water, please?

JIM LEHRER: OK… Santa, do you support the Bush Doctrine, which is the notion that the United States can engage in preventive war, to depose foreign regimes that represent a potential or perceived threat to the security of the United States, even if that threat was not immediate?

SANTA: Oh, hell yeah! And if I’m elected, I can tell you, I’m gonna be preventively firin’ several rockets in the general direction of the Grinch. And also the Abominable Snowman. You know, the one that almost ate Rudolph and Yukon Cornelius and that little dentist fella who couldn’t even cut it as an elf.

SARAH: Jim, if I might, I’d like to address my opponent directly here. Santa, I have to say, I’m not sure I can go for your plan, which includes all these big pork-barrel giveaways. I mean, free presents for every girl and boy? Hmmm. Who are these children? Lobbyists? And, who’s gonna pay for all these “presents”? The taxpayers?

SANTA: No, you dimwit. The elves make ‘em.

SARAH: Elves? Little people? So what we have here, essentially, is affirmative action. Hire the little people! Jim, it’s just more of these elitist liberals with their entitlement programs. And Santa, how are you gonna get these giveaways to all your little lobbyists, anyway?

SANTA: Fly ‘em in on my sled.

SARAH: Oh, so you’re going to fly them all over the world. So I guess you’ll be needin’ some of that good old Alaskan oil, eh Santa? Well how do you expect to get that oil unless we drill in Anwar, and finish buildin’ that pipeline from the North Slope?

SANTA: I don’t need no oil, I got my eight flyin’ reindeer.

SARAH: Five.

SANTA: Huh?

SARAH: Have you counted those reindeer lately?

SANTA: Well, uhh, no… say, what’re you drivin’ at, anyway?

SARAH: While you’re out shakin’ your bowl full o’ jelly, a couple of those reindeer got out of their pen and were out grazin’ on the tundra.

SANTA: How do you know?

SARAH: I saw ‘em from my Cessna the other day when me and Todd, The First Dude, were out huntin’ wolves.

SANTA: You didn’t…

SARAH: Ever tried reindeer stew, Jim? I’ll send you a batch. It’s almost as good as moose.

SANTA: I–I can’t believe you’d do such a thing…

SARAH: And furthermore, Santa, if that is your real name, the Republican Party is onto your little game. You know what I’m talkin’ about. Hidin’ up there in your secret village, with your fuzzy terrorist beard and your army of little minions building “toys.” What do you call ‘em? Little tin horns, little toy drums, rooty-toot-toot and rummy-tum-tums? Come on now. Tin horns? Toy drums?
That I might believe, but what the heck are these rooty-toot-toots and rummy-tum-tums? Sounds like a code for WMD. And that stuff you’re brewin’ in your secret vats? Figgy pudding? I don’t think so. Looks like anthrax to me.

SANTA: This is preposterous!

SARAH: You can tell your story at Guantanamo Bay, Santa. And don’t expect Rudolph to come flyin’ in to save you either. If we so much as see that red nose of his over Alaskan Air Space, he won’t be goin’ down in history. He’ll be goin’ down in a big red ball of flamin’ fur. Yup, yup.

The Palin Prophecies

Yup! Yup! Nuckin’ Futs!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Brent Mooseburger, Alaskan Pentecostal sports reporter, has been selected, much to his surprise, by God Our Heavenly Father as the man to channel Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin’s messages to the American people, since neither she nor God trust the elite media. In this almost-daily blog, Mr. Mooseburger will decode Palin’s prophecies for a nu-clear age. Reader responses are not welcome, unless you show the proper respect and deference.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Palin Prophecies are archived at www.thepalinprophecies.com. KenArnoldBooks will be publishing Brent Mooseburger’s messages as he channels them. His inspirational messages will be collected into an ebook sometime in October and published by KenArnoldBooks on Amazon Kindle. Entries are copyrighted by KenArnoldBooks, LLC.

The Palin Prophecies: Geronimo! Country Fiiiiiiiiiiirst

Everyone’s talkin’ about this big bailout for these financial fat cats over on Wall Street, and whether or not there’s gonna be a deal or not. Thank goodness John McCain suspended his campaign and put the debate on hold so he could sit down with Katie Couric and get a makeover, then go to sleep and then get up and give a speech over at the Clinton Global Initiative place and THEN get on a plane to D.C. and parachute down to save the day.

Oh, and by the way, Katie, I just wanted you to know I haven’t forgotten about that promise I made when you were interviewin’ me. You asked me if I could name one instance where John McCain had voted for any kind of Wall Street regulations, and since I couldn’t remember even one, I asked if I could use one of my lifelines and get back to you. I’m still askin’ around to see if anyone can remember an instance of that, and I’ll get back to you if I find one, OK?

Anyway, John-John flew down to D.C. after his makeover with Katie, and just in time too, ’cause just when all the Republicans were about to be duped by those arugula-eating liberal Democrats and their buddy, the Republican president George W. Bush, into signin’ off on the deal, John-John parachuted in on it and then everything went up in holy smoke. I think what happened was, just as they were about to reach an agreement, John-John parachuted in wearing his “Mission Accomplished” blazer and landed on Secretary Paulson’s shiny head and killed him. And the deal. Just in the nick of time. Whew! I mean, this is all just happenin’ too fast for my tastes.

Heck, just a couple a days ago, John McCain was sayin’ the fundamentals of our economy are strong. Then he says he wants to fire the head of the SEC or the FAA or the PTA  or Miss USA or whatever, and then, just a couple days later he’s runnin’ around with his thinning hair on fire, suspendin’ his campaign (wink, wink) and sayin’ everyone needs to drop what they’re doin’ and zip on down to D.C. or we’ll have another Big Depression and we’ll all end up standin’ in line for soup. Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t even like soup! If ya got a good moose stew, heck yeah, sign me up for that, but standin’ in line for soup does sound kinda depressing. Maybe that’s why they call it a depression.

So, as John-John said, he’s an old Navy pilot and when there’s a crisis it’s all hands on deck. So he suspended his campaign (wink-wink), then he went over to NBC and did a campaign interview with Katie Couric and then he zipped back to his hotel and spent the night and then got up the next day, ate some prunes, took a good ‘ol fasioned presidential crap and went to the Clinton Global Initiative and campaigned about how he was suspendin’ his campaign, then he took off for Washington, parachuted in on top of the deal, then hit the deck of that aircraft carrier or senate meeting room or whatever and dealt with that crisis. Now he’s not so sure any more whether he’s in favor of that deal or not, and no one really knows what he wants to do.

So things are kinda fluid. They’re  changin’, and we need a leader who can change with the times, every five minutes or so, and that’s John McCain.

Just when the Democrats and Barack Hussein Obama were about to spend $700 billion of the taxpayers’ money to fix the mess that the anti-regulation Republicans and John-John’s economic advisers like Phil Gramm and his campaign manager, Rick Davis–who was gettin’ paid $15,000 a month by Freddie Mac right up until last month–made, John-John strapped on his parachute, jumped into a plane and flew down to D.C. and–Geronimo!–jumped right on top of ‘em. ‘Cause just because yesterday it was a crisis that needed to be dealt with or we were all goin’ to turn into hoboes doesn’t mean it’s still a crisis today. ‘Cause after the crisis was dealt with, suddenly John-John thinks we need to slow down here. I think. Nobody really knows what John-John wants to do from one minute to the next, cause he’s a Maverick and he keeps changin’, adaptin’ to the times of the moment. ‘Cause that’s what a Maverick does. Maybe he’s gonna sell off five or six of his houses or auction off one of his 13 cars, or maybe his wife’s jet, or one of her $300,000 outfits, and give that to you main street Americans, who knows? That’d be just like a Maverick, wouldn’t it? Maybe we won’t all be standin’ around slurpin’ soup and puttin’ on our hobo pants after all. How does a Maverick look in hobo pants, anyway? Not too good, I’d guess. I think they wear those cowboy chaps, don’t they, the Mavericks? I’m not so sure. I’ll have to get back to you on that one, too.Right now, I’ve gotta learn everything there is to know about how to lead the free world by the debate on October 2. John-John’s team did vett me with a pop quiz on fern policy. Thank the good Lord that John McCain and the house Republicans are puttin’ a stop to this agreement. I mean, it’s just irresponsible to put that kinda debt on our kids and our grandkids, especially after we Republicans already gave the country a trillion dollar deficit. I mean, who was in charge of Congress for 6 of the last 7 years when George Bush was runnin’ up the deficit anyway, signin’ all his blank checks with no oversight? Who? The Republicans? OK. But the Democrats have been in charge for the past year and a half, sort of. Except the Senate is really pretty much a tie, when you figure Joe Liebermann is really a Republican, and the Democrats don’t have anywhere near a filibuster-proof majority, not to mention a veto-proof majority there.

Like I was sayin’, those Democrats love to spend money, don’t they? Gettin’ a liberal to spend money is about as hard as gettin’ an alcoholic to have a beer. Sure, we Republicans have been in charge for the last eight years, and with George Bush we took all that excess money that Clinton had piled up, where it was just sittin’ around takin’ up space, and we turned it into a trillion-dollar deficit, and we’re spendin’ $10,000 a second in Iraq, so we know about deficits. But to put this $700 billion on top of the trillion dollars in debt we’ve already piled on, well, it’d be fiscally irresponsible. Yup, yup, we’re the party of fiscal sensibility. Yup, yup. And with a leader like John McCain, we’ll lead America out of this financial mess.

Oh, did I mention we have to buckle down and tighten our belts? I’m not sure if we Republicans are gonna have enough money for our returning vets and their healthcare. I mean, we gott tell these guys and gals: Country First, right?

And John-John can drop everything and focus in on the financial collapse because he knows that I’m up in Alaska, watchin’ the Russians in case Putin rears his head and violates our Alaskan air space, because I’m there, right next door to Russia waving from my hair salon. And when Putin rears his head like that, it’s the governor of Alaska who’s in charge of our federal airspace and our military, right? Heck, I can just climb in a Cessna with the First Dude and we’ll zip up there with our AK-47s and shoot those MiGs down (and maybe a couple of flying wolves while we’re at it). So John-John can drop everything and focus in on the economy, ’cause he knows when Putin rears his head, I’ve got his back.

Heck, John-John could even put a stop to that debate if he wants to. Because who needs a debate anyway? Who needs to know what John-John and Barack Hussein want to do about this financial crisis and whatnot? What this country needs is for these leaders to sit down, roll up their sleeves, and play “Deal or No Deal.” Or maybe “Who Wants to Be a Parachutin’ Superhero?” Yup, yup. Hit the silks, John-John, it’s time to bail out!

The Palin Prophecies

Yup! Yup! Nuckin’ Futs!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Brent Mooseburger, Alaskan Pentecostal sports reporter, has been selected, much to his surprise, by God Our Heavenly Father as the man to channel Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin’s messages to the American people, since neither she nor God trust the elite media. In this almost-daily blog, Mr. Mooseburger will decode Palin’s prophecies for a nu-clear age. Reader responses are not welcome, unless you show the proper respect and deference.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The Palin Prophecies are archived at www.thepalinprophecies.com. KenArnoldBooks will be publishing Brent Mooseburger’s messages as he channels them. His inspirational messages will be collected into an ebook sometime in October and published by KenArnoldBooks on Amazon Kindle. Entries are copyrighted by KenArnoldBooks, LLC.

The Palin Prophecies: When Sarah Bear Comes Marchin’ In

(Sung to the tune of When the Saints Come Marching In)

*Intro below should be sung with warm fuzzy feelings, much like a cow in heat.

We are trav’ling in the footsteps,
Of Neo-cons who’ve gone before,
Pastor Muthee now repackaged,
We are ready for God’s war….

Please rise if you are able to sing and swing in front of your computer. –Blessings, Brendt Mooseburger, anointed by God to channel Sarah Palin’s messages for the unbelievers through her hairdo

When Sarah Bear (and Pastor Muth!) come marching in (and screamin’ truth!),
When scary hair comes marching in,
Bet your butt she’s got your number,
Tick her off she’ll stone your kin.

When John McCain (and Freddie Mac!) come marching in (and Davis, too!),
When John McCain comes raging in,
His potty mouth’s well known by the press corps,
Yes, John McCain lops heads to win…woo!

Oh, when the Jews (and Lutherans, too!) come marching in (root-toot-ee-oo!),
You Anglo-Catholics listen too,
In the End Times you’ll be screw-ewed,
But “Jews for Jesus” gets renewed.

Oh, when the trumpet sounds its call (sounds for y’all!),
She’ll build new camps for sinners all (for sinners all!),
Lord, very soon she’ll make Todd VP,
If you vote for her this fall.

Everybody …!

The Palin Prophecies

Yup! Yup! Nuckin’ Futs!

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Brent Mooseburger, Alaskan Pentecostal sports reporter, has been selected, much to his surprise, by God Our Heavenly Father as the man to channel Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin’s messages to the American people, since neither she nor God trust the elite media. In this almost-daily blog, Mr. Mooseburger will decode Palin’s prophecies for a nu-clear age. Reader responses are not welcome, unless you show the proper respect and deference.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The Palin Prophecies are archived at www.thepalinprophecies.com. KenArnoldBooks will be publishing Brent Mooseburger’s messages as he channels them. His inspirational messages will be collected into an ebook sometime in October and published by KenArnoldBooks on Amazon Kindle. Entries are copyrighted by KenArnoldBooks, LLC.

The Palin Prophecies: McCain’s Weapon of Mass Distraction

Some people are so poopy. I mean it. I got dressed up in my black designer business suit, got my hair done up the way I like it and the way boys like it. You have to look the part to play the part, ya know? Yup yup. I was ready for my meeting with another one of those dudes from a something-stan, this one Afghanistan, I think. That’s a country where we have some soldiers searching for Obama—whoops!—Osama bin Ladin.

Anyway, I had this meeting all set up with Mr. President of Afghanistan Hamid Karzai. Right away, can you believe it, the vicious liberal media wanted to be there with us, right in the same room, with their cameras and reporters. What do they think this is? A free society? Like I have time to let the real hockey moms know what I’m up to? Hey, I just play a hockey mom on TV. I don’t really have to answer questions about their mortgages and healthcare and kids’ education! So the media, they wanted to ask me questions. Questions. Me! They know perfectly well, because we gave them the rules that they aren’t allowed to do that. I am too busy thinkin’ about the nation and how I’ll look in my inaugural gown to be bothered with letting the voters know who I am.

And can you imagine how Mr. Karzai would feel if suddenly some rude journalist from CNN or Fox News started buttin’ in? Yes, you heard me. Fox News. They used to be sensible—they have such nice reporters, like that cutie-pie Sean Hannity—but now they’re kickin’ up dust because I can’t sit down and just, like, chat.

Well, just when we were getting’ ready to dig into the business of fern affairs, the media all said they were goin’ to leave and not take any pictures of me and Mr. Karzai at all! Now, you’ve seen pictures of my legs. Come on. Next to almost everyone else runnin’ for office or doin’ much of anything in the government, I’m political eye candy. I’m yummy to look at. Toddy tells me that all the time. John-John says the same thing. Even that old fart, excuse my French, Joe Biden says so. Why wouldn’t they want me on their newscasts or on their front pages? Huh?

It’s the party of Satan, that’s what’s goin’ on. Those Satanizers—and I don’t need to name names here—are gettin’ in the way of the Lord’s business, which is also my business. We’ll take care of them, you can bet on that. Yup yup. We’re trackin’ some emails, watchin’ subversive websites. Keepin’ an eye on people like Naomi Wolf, for example. Don’t think I didn’t see what you wrote about me today on that filthy rag, The Huffington Post, Naomi. You’re gonna keep on payin’!

All right, back to fern policy. Mr. Karsai is a Muslim, I think. At least, he wears Muslim-lookin’ clothes, like maybe he just rode in on a camel. But I thought he was also kind of dashing, you know, like a movie star. Kinda like Ben Kingsley. In fact, I think I saw Karsai in a movie once? I’ll have to check into that.

Well, as soon as we sat down—and after the media got their 29 seconds of face time with me (they are so unbelievably greedy!)—Mr. Karsai and I got right to it. Here’s how it went:

ME: President Karsai! It’s such a joy to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you and I loved you in Ghandi. Welcome to America.

KARSAI: Please, Madame, call me Hamid.

ME: That’s so sweet. You can call me Sarah. My husband Toddy calls me Sarah Bear, but we probably need to get to know each other better before we go there.

KARSAI: Indeed. Now, Madame, I understand you have several children.

ME: Oh, goodness, yes. Let me show you some pictures. Here they are, all five. And you can see Bristol, that’s the one there on the right, is expecting her own little package.

KARSAI: How interesting. I have just one child.

ME: I’m so sorry to hear that. Is it something to do with your wife? You know, here in America we have some wonderful support opportunities that can help with that. Or maybe I can ask my church to pray over her private parts in Jesus name?

KARSAI: A-HEM. Perhaps you can tell me what you think about the present situation in Afghanistan. We are so grateful for all of the support your president, George, has given us, with the exception of the civilians blown to Mecca and the rise of the Opium trade. However, we do look forward to close relations under your administration to keep the Taliban and Al Qaeda at bay.

ME: Listen, Afghanistan-Man. You can count on us to fight for freedom anywhere in the world even if I have to launch Armageddon, know what I mean? You know, where I come from, Alaska, which is part of the United States, I can actually see Russia?

I mean, look her right in the kisser. You know how important that is, I’m sure. But our efforts on your behalf, which include overthrowing Barack Hussein Saddam, are beginning to bear fruit. We’ll track those terrorist towel heads right to their caves. Just like you did in your movie Weapons of Mass Distraction.

KARSAI: Towelheads?

ME: Ok, Ahmed, thanks so much for your time and for this instructive talk. I want to apologize for our rude media. They ruin everything, Those liberal media. Like George Will. Did you see the trash he’s talkin’ about John-John? How do you handle the media in your democratic nation?

Well, we both stood up then because I could see that my fern policy advisor, John-John, was ready to move on to the next big leader interview he set up for me here at the United Nations. I didn’t get a chance to hear what Ahmed had to say about his country and the media, but I’m thinkin’ they’ve got their media under control. When I’m in office, we’ll whip CNN and NBC and FOX and especially PBS into shape. Yup yup. They’re gonna think 29 seconds is a lifetime.

The Palin Prophecies

Yup! Yup! Nuckin’ Futs!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Brent Mooseburger, Alaskan Pentecostal sports reporter, has been selected, much to his surprise, by God Our Heavenly Father as the man to channel Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin’s messages to the American people, since neither she nor God trust the elite media. In this almost-daily blog, Mr. Mooseburger will decode Palin’s prophecies for a nu-clear age. Reader responses are not welcome, unless you show the proper respect and deference.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Palin Prophecies are archived at www.thepalinprophecies.com. KenArnoldBooks will be publishing Brent Mooseburger’s messages as he channels them. His inspirational messages will be collected into an ebook sometime in October and published by KenArnoldBooks on Amazon Kindle. Entries are copyrighted by KenArnoldBooks, LLC.

The Palin Prophecies: Obama Is the Anti-Christ but the World is Greek To Me

You probably saw some news stories that say I am losing popularity and that Hussein Obama is leading in the polls now. I haven’t wanted to say this before now because I don’t believe that fear is the best way to win hearts to Jesus: BUT, one of the signs of the anti-Christ is popularity. We’ve seen throngs thronging to Barack, like in Portland, Oregon, for example, the way they did to other leaders who were ungodly, like that Desmond Tutu who tried to overthrow the white government in South Africa.

But there are more signs and we as Americans have to begin to pay attention. A Barack Obama presidency would be a plague on the American people, a plague of biblical proportions. Do you know that his birth name was Barry and that he took the name Barack by his own choice and that Buraq was the name of Muhammad’s horse?! Yup yup. I read about it on a website.

The website also shows how his policies are anti-Christian. It’s all there, like how Obama’s a gay tree-hugging terrorist liberal arugula-eating Communist, and when he gets into the White House he’ll be having gay sex with Osama bin Laden in the Oval Office while Michelle is up on the roof taking pot shots at Christians. It won’t be long before he’ll start feeding us to the lions again.

Let’s look at some scripture here to help us out. In Luke 10:18, Jesus says that he beheld Satan fall as lightning from heaven. Well, ok, do you know that Baraq in Hebrew means lightning!!? Now, do you see where I’m goin’ here? Trust me. I attended five colleges in six years. I know enough knowledge to choke a Trojan horse.

Now I had heard about these rumors but until I saw the proof on www.o.bamapost.com. I just didn’t want to go there, unlike some of my liberal critics, like the National Inquirer, who will stoop to any nasty trick or rumor to smear me and my family. But when I’m confronted with facts, then I have to share them because that’s the kind of upfront and honest gal I am. Take my word. You have to, ‘cause I don’t believe in freedom of the press, especially not their freedom to talk to me.

Anyway, I decided I’d better check in with the Lord about this anti-Christ stuff, because I want to be sure that I’m exposin’ the true anti-Christ when I tell the world about Obama. So I called him on my ‘do phone. He picked up right away, as he does when I call him. I don’t know about if he answers anyone else.

“Lord,” I said, “I read here in the internet that Barack Hussein Obama might be the anti-Christ. What do you think?”

“What are you talking about, Sarah?” The Lord sounded annoyed.

“You know, the anti-Christ who will come just before the End Times, like in the ‘Left Behind’ series of books that tell the true story of how the faithful will be raptured and saved?” I think he could tell how excited I was. “And there’s also a ‘Left Behind’ video game. It’s so cool.”

“Those books are fiction, Sarah. The authors wrote them to make a lot of money. And they did. And that video game looks like fascism dressed up as Christianity.”

“But isn’t the Bible true when it says that the End Times are coming and Jesus will come back to judge the evil doers? And that it’s going to happen like next year?” I began to think again that the Democrats had tapped my ‘do. This just didn’t sound like the Lord God of Hosts who smites the wicked and slays the innocent alike.

“The Bible is a book of stories, Sarah, very good stories. But they are not about the future. And not every Christian believes in the End Times the way you do. Eastern Orthodox Christians, for example.”

SARAH: Oh, what do they know? Aren’t they all just Greeks?

GOD: And American, Russian, Ethiopian, Romanian, Serbian, Armenian, almost 300 million world-wide. I’d be careful taking on Greek Americans, in particular. They know their history. They argue and ask questions, unlike the U.S. media that let you say whatever you want. Greeks study the fine print. They’re survivors.

SARAH: So am I, Lord! Look at how the elite media crucifies me! I’ve had to hide in one five-star hotel after another. What have the Greeks endured?

GOD: Uh, the death march in Smyrna, the Nazi occupation, the Communist conflict, the military junta in the Sixties….

SARAH: Yeah, well, what do they know about democracy?

GOD: Uh, their ancestors invented it, Sarah.

SARAH: Whatever. But, look here what this website says: Luke 10:18 really means ‘Satan Barack Obama’ when you translate the Hebrew.

GOD: Oy vey.

SARAH: And that means that the Lord is about to come again, right after Barack Hussein Obama. Now I think that means, Lord, that when I am elected I will be the ones to usher in the End Times. I want to thank you, Lord, for choosing me to fight the anti-Christ. Thy will be done.”

I felt truly blessed at that moment and fell on my knees in prayer.

But then the Lord came buzzin’ back through my ‘do again. Stood my hair right up like a shock of electricity.

GOD: I’ve been thinking about the world you live in, Sarah.

SARAH: Yes, Lord?

GOD: It’s Greek to you.

The Palin Prophecies

Yup! Yup! Nuckin’ Futs!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Brent Mooseburger, Alaskan Pentecostal sports reporter, has been selected, much to his surprise, by God Our Heavenly Father as the man to channel Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin’s messages to the American people, since neither she nor God trust the elite media. In this almost-daily blog, Mr. Mooseburger will decode Palin’s prophecies for a nu-clear age. Reader responses are not welcome, unless you show the proper respect and deference.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The Palin Prophecies are archived at www.thepalinprophecies.com. KenArnoldBooks will be publishing Brent Mooseburger’s messages as he channels them. His inspirational messages will be collected into an ebook sometime in October and published by KenArnoldBooks on Amazon Kindle. Entries are copyrighted by KenArnoldBooks, LLC.

---

The Palin Prophecies: Fern Relations at the United Nations

Since I got my passport a year ago and studied some world geography over a few games of “Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?”, I’m ready to travel to see the leaders of other countries and impress on them my qualifications to take my place in what they call the Council of Nations. You gotta do that when you’re a leader of the free world. I thought I’d start by visitin’ the United Nations, where I know I can find a lot of fern leaders this week because the General Assembly is getting’ together. I’m not sure why. But I do know that the United Nations is not our friend because the nations there are always criticizin’ us—like we’re connected to the world markets or something. ‘Course, that will stop once John-John and I soar to the top.

But first I want to listen, ya know, hear what these fern leaders have to say before John-John and me point out how they’re wrong about us and how unChristian they are and how they should just do what we tell ‘em. That’s the Bush Doctrine with a twist. I call it the Sarah Doctrine: Listen first, shoot next. That’s how I was so successful in Alaska. Course, now I’m doing so well up there because I’m not even there and the McCain campaign leaders have taken over the state. Talk about savin’ money for Alaskans! Just hand off the government to someone else—it’s just good business to outsource. Like if you call to ask a question, someone in Virginia is likely to answer the phone. Hey, why not just hand over Alaska to the telemarketers in New Delhi? And maybe the US government too. That could be a way to solve this pesky bank problem on Wall Street! Yup yup.

Anyway, back to fern policy, my first appointment in New York (gosh, it’s bigger than my hair, I had no idea) is with the King of Fargonistan (I think that’s how you pronounce it but I’m not sure because it’s a fern language, which means it’s not English—something else John-John and I need to fix—and why are so many of ‘em named something-stan?). I’m not sure where it is. But I understand they have natural resources there, like minerals we could use, maybe gold. That’s a good reason to have fern relations. ‘Course we’ll do it clean-like, not drinkin’ and snortin’ cocaine and dolin’ out sexual favors to the oil industry like that government agency, the Denver Minerals Services or somethin’ like that?

I know how to deal with minerals like gold because, ya know, there was a gold rush in Alaska before we discovered oil. Yup yup. This was in the Kondike, ya know, after the ice cream bar? I love those things, especially eatin’ ‘em in the snow in front of the fire? I get all shivery and then kinda sweaty all at once inside my moose-hide parka. And Toddy and me get kinda sleepy-eyed. Well, those days are just memories now, ‘cause I got to focus on Christianizing the nation.

So, the King of Fargonistan and I are havin’ a sit down at a Starbucks up on the East Side of New York (they got two sides there, like with most things in life, usually one is right and one is wrong and I want to make sure I’m on the right side, but lookin’ north, my favorite direction, I think the East Side is it. Fifth Avenue is like a swing state.)

“Hi, King,” I say to him, ploppin’ down with my cup of mochachino, which is not as good by the way as the mocha we got up in Alaska—you liberal pinheads probably don’t even know we have it in my home town—and he smiles like he likes me, which is natural, because most people love my gorgeous guts, excuse my French. Then I realize he isn’t talkin’ but the guy next to him is talkin’ in a fern language to him and then talkin’ in English to me.

“I’m his interpreter,” this guy says, which is puzzlin’ to me. Why can’t he just say what he means? So I’m wonderin’ if he’s a Democrat, which I didn’t think they had in fern countries.

“The King wants to thank you for buyin’ him a cup of this delicious coffee,” says the interpreter.

Now, I didn’t just fall off the salmon truck. I know that fern leaders can be tricky, so I brought with me my fern policy advisor, John-John, to help me out here.

“John-John,” I whisper so the interpreter can’t hear, “what do you think it means when he says I’m buyin’ him a cup of coffee? I never said that.”

John-John gets one of his angry faces on like he did when those Hell-bent relatives of the missing POWs in Vietnam questioned him about some classified documents (like, Hello, they’re classified?)—yup, he can do angry better than almost any man except maybe Hillary Clinton, angry is one of her two faces, ha ha—and demands to know what the King thinks he’s tryin’ to pull. Well, the next thing you know, this super belligerent King is on his feet and shoutin’ in a fern language no one can understand and John-John is bumpin’ chests with him, like I’ve seen Toddy do so many times when one of the Alaska legislators or member of the police force won’t do what we ask. And then they’re on the floor, the King and John-John, rollin’ around and punchin’ each other in the nose and there’s blood and fair trade coffee (what’s so fair about it?) all over the floor and the people in line don’t even blink. Which is not the same as when I don’t blink. They’re ignorin’ me and my and John-John’s predicament, just goin’ on and placin’ their orders for their latte. It’s ‘cause the liberals are still mad at me for paradin’ my baby around the RNC floor way past his bedtime with thousands of screamin’ fans—like it’s not my private business? Leave my family out of it, okay?

I give the interpreter a quick kick in the shins to keep him from interferin’. That’s how I deal with wild animals in Alaska. Give ‘em an inch, they’ll take your leg.

Well, the next thing you know, the New York liberal police show up and do they arrest the King that assaulted us? No. They perp-walk me and John-John outside to a police car and make us crawl inside.

“What is this?” I shake my curls at ‘em. “I want you to arrest those men for attacking us.”

“No can do, ma’am,” the cop says. “They have diplomatic immunity. Our laws don’t apply to them.”

Outrageous. The liberals in New York allow fer-uners to get away with murder. I’d heard that but I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. John-John was in shock, I think, because he didn’t say much and had these staring eyeballs like you see on the face of a caribou just before I shoot him, and I suddenly thought as I stared at John-John with blood on his face how I really could be the president. It could happen on a fern policy trip just like this one, where a fern leader lets him have it in a fern coffee shop. I wipe the blood off his face and tell him it’s gonna be ok. Sarah Bear is here.

This is why I need my fern policy experience. Yup yup. Got to get pumped.

The Palin Prophecies

Yup! Yup! Nuckin’ Futs!

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Brent Mooseburger, Alaskan Pentecostal sports reporter, has been selected, much to his surprise, by God Our Heavenly Father as the man to channel Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin’s messages to the American people, since neither she nor God trust the elite media. In this almost-daily blog, Mr. Mooseburger will decode Palin’s prophecies for a nu-clear age. Reader responses are not welcome, unless you show the proper respect and deference.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Palin Prophecies are archived at www.thepalinprophecies.com. KenArnoldBooks will be publishing Brent Mooseburger’s messages as he channels them. His inspirational messages will be collected into an ebook sometime in October and published by KenArnoldBooks on Amazon Kindle. Entries are copyrighted by KenArnoldBooks, LLC.

The Palin Prophecies: Give Me That Old Grand Old Party

It’s the Lord’s Day again and because it’s been such a hard week for everyone’s investment portfolios—I know Cindy and John-John have suffered terribly—even though the economy’s strong, I thought we should just have a good old-fashioned hymn sing. Yup yup. Here’s one of my favorites. Join in and clap your hands!

GIVE ME THAT OLD GRAND OLD PARTY
Sung to the tune of “Give Me That Old Time Religion”

Give me that old time McPalin,
Fundamentals they ain’t failin’,
Phil Gramm says the Dems are wailin’,
And it’s good for John and me.

Give me that old Grand Old Party,
Mean and rich and white and farty,
Damn the truth ’cause we’re so smarty,
And it’s good for John and me.

It is good to “Starve the Beast,”
Cindy’s houses have increased,
All our taxes have decreased,
And it’s good for John and me.

Give me that old Grand Old Party,
Mean and rich and white and farty,
Damn the truth ’cause we’re so smarty,
And it’s good for John and me.

Give me that old John McCain,
Equal pay is such a pain,
Focus voters on “Hussein,”
It’s good for John and me.

Give me that old Grand Old Party,
Mean and rich and white and farty,
Damn the truth ’cause we’re so smarty,
And it’s good for John and me.

Give me those old fed’ral earmarks,
Drill for oil and damn the deer parks,
Trash the press and all their queer narks,
It’s good for God and me.

Give me that old Grand Old Party,
Mean and rich and white and farty,
Damn the truth ’cause we’re so smarty,
And it’s good for John and me.

We’ll save all the millionaires,
We’ll praise all the billionaires,
Kiss the butts of trillionaires,
It’s good for oil and me.

Give me that old Grand Old Party,
Mean and rich and white and farty,
Damn the truth ’cause we’re so smarty,
And it’s good for John and me.

Don’t blame me when you’re all broke,
No one knows I’m blowin’ smoke,
No one vetted me–no joke!
And it’s good for Todd and me.

Everybody…!

God bless me and God bless America.

The Palin Prophecies

Yup! Yup! Nuckin’ Futs!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Brent Mooseburger, Alaskan Pentecostal sports reporter, has been selected, much to his surprise, by God Our Heavenly Father as the man to channel Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin’s messages to the American people, since neither she nor God trust the elite media. In this almost-daily blog, Mr. Mooseburger will decode Palin’s prophecies for a nu-clear age. Reader responses are not welcome, unless you show the proper respect and deference.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The Palin Prophecies are archived at www.thepalinprophecies.com. KenArnoldBooks will be publishing Brent Mooseburger’s messages as he channels them. His inspirational messages will be collected into an ebook sometime in October and published by KenArnoldBooks on Amazon Kindle. Entries are copyrighted by KenArnoldBooks, LLC.

The Palin Prophecies: All the Earmarks of an Eyesore

Boy, bein’ a maverick sure is complicated. There’s a lot of Arugula nibblers out there on the Obama side who laugh when me and John McCain say we’re going to cut all those government earmarks when we get to Washington and start shakin’ things up. They’re saying I don’t have the experience necessary to be a heartbeat away from the nucular arsenal. But I stand by my record as governor of the great state of Alaska, a state with almost as many people as they have in that lefty Portland, Oregon. Damn I’m good!

What I’d like to say to those folks is that I have more experience in the earmark business than just about anybody. Under me and Todd’s leadership as governor of the great state of Alaska, we’re Number One–woo-hoo!–in earmarks. While Obama’s state of Illinois took home a measly $30.67 per person in earmarks this year, I brought home $506 per person for Alaskans. Yup, yup. That’s federal tax dollars, folks, the real deal. More than $450 million in pork over my year-and-a-half in office, for a state of 670,000 people. It’s a wonder everyone in Alaska hasn’t collapsed with hardened arteries with all the bacon I bring home. Too bad you poor saps in Ohio (a measly $26.58 per person) and Colorado ($18.89 per person) didn’t have a bring-home-the-bacon type governor like me running things. Then maybe you could have a Bridge to Nowhere too. Or at least a Road to a Bridge to Nowhere that doesn’t exist like the one we’re buildin’.

Yup, after I said “Yes!” to the $442  million in federal tax dollars for the Bridge to Nowhere, it became a national embarrassment and Congress put the kibosh on it. That meant the great state of Alaska would have to pay for it ourselves out of our billions in oil revenues. So then I said, “Thanks but no thanks.” Except—get this!—I kept the money anyway, and now we’re building a $24 million access road to an empty beach where the bridge would have gone. Yup yup.

The other $418 million? We kept it. Thanks, guys! Stay as cute and sweet as you are!

Hey, I’m like a pitbull with lipstick when it comes to earmarks. Once I get my teeth on your federal dollars, I’m not lettin’ go! Oh sure, I coulda sent that money back to Congress and demanded that they spend it on stuff that’s only important in the lower 48—like proper armor for the troops. But I said “thanks but no thanks,” we’ll keep it. Yup, yup. That’s puttin’ your country first.

When I was Mayor of Wasilla, a town of about 6,000 people, I hired a big-time Washington lobbyist with ties to Jack Abramoff and brought home a whopping $1,384 per person in earmarks. Yup, we built a sports arena so my kids could skate there—puttin’ my country first like a good hockey mom, ya know—and a $15 million railroad to Uncle Ted Stevens’ ski resort hometown. Talk about the little engine that could! Later, Uncle Ted gave me a job runnin’ his 527 (that’s a group created to influence the election or defeat of candidates for public office). Thanks, Uncle Ted!

So, with all that experience in takin’ earmarks, I’m the perfect person to team with John McCain to shake up Washington. And we can do it. We have that confidence. We have that readiness. We’re a team of mavericks, John McCain and me. John-John’s a maverick because, well, because he says he is and because he’s repented from the savings and loan scandal thank God nobody talks about any more. Hallelujah! Praise the Lord.

And as for me, I’m a maverick because I’m a woman with more college experience than all the guys runnin’. I attended five colleges in six years and most of them went to only one or two. I guess you could say I’m a maveriquette, just like Hillary Clinton, except she didn’t change colleges as often as I change my underwear and glasses and opinions. That’s some change we can count on, Barack.! We appreciate all those Hillary Clinton voters who are jumpin’ on our bandwagon, cause they realize I’m the only woman on either of the two tickets, so obviously I’m the only one who can bring equality for women ‘cause we will all be equally oppressed when I’m elected president.

All that stuff you’ve been hearin’ from the Republicans for years about feminazi this and feminazi that, that’s just those sexist media elites bringin’ that stuff up now to upset our apple cart. It’s about the good ol’ boys of the media elite saying, ‘We’re not going to sit here and be run by a damn woman. She didn’t bend over and let us have our way so we’re going to show her who’s boss.” That’s what they do, those sexist liberals. They attack noted feminists like Rush Limbaugh, who said “feminism was established so as to allow unattractive women easier access to the mainstream of society.” Whoops. Looks like my teleprompter’s actin’ up again. Here’s what he said: “Women should not be allowed on juries where the accused is a stud.” Uhhh, never mind. I’ll just wing it here. So anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, feminism. John McCain’s a big feminist too. Remember when John-John joked that Chelsea Clinton is “so ugly” because “her father is Janet Reno?” Or when he told that joke about a woman who was raped by a gorilla and liked it? Or how about when he called Cindy the “c” word in public no less? Boy, that John McCain, he’s a real maverick feminist.

Did I tell ya, I’m a product of Title 9 in our schools? Did I mention I was a point guard on a state championship basketball team? Sports were very, very important to me growing up, you know just learning about self discipline and healthy competition and about what ittakes to win and even how to graciously lose sometimes. NOT. But mostly how to win by any means necessary, whether it’s by elbowin’ your opponent while you’re goin’ after a loose ball, or lyin’ about their tax proposals. Yup, yup. Lie, cheat, whatever. That’s what it teaches ya. And teamwork. Can’t wait to do a little one-on-one with Insane Obama!

So us Republicans, we’re big feminists. Even if in April, JohnMcCain opposed a major Senate bill seeking equal pay for women, and in 2000, he opposed an amendment that aimed to provide more effective remedies to victims of sex-discrimination, and in 1985 he voted against a study to investigate pay differences among federal employees, and determine whether they were the result of discrimination, I’m tellin’ ya he’s a feminist. And I should know, cause I’m a woman. And he picked me to be the next president. Yup, yup. So equality for women, for all, that’s going to be part of the agenda.

Another part of the agenda? Fiscal responsibility. When I was mayor of Wasilla, we charged women who’d been raped to pay for their own rape kits. Yup, yup. That’s between $300 and $1,200 apiece those women had to pay, which adds up to a big savings. I bet Barack Obama never saved his community that kinda money when he was a community organizer. Of course, bein’ Mayor was kiiiiiind of like being a community organizer, except you have actual responsibility. And if, God willing, you elect me and John McCain, we’ll make sure Roe v. Wade is overturned and those women have to have their rapists’ babies after they finish payin’ for their rape kits. Say AMEN somebody!

So women, thanks for your support, and with your help me and the Republicans can finally build that Bridge to the 11th Century we’ve started. Now that’s one bridge I won’t say “thanks but no thanks” to. Yup, yup.

The Palin Prophecies

Yup! Yup! Nuckin Futs!

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Brent Mooseburger, Alaskan Pentecostal sports reporter, has been selected, much to his surprise, by God Our Heavenly Father as the man to channel Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin’s messages to the American people, since neither she nor God trust the elite media. In this almost-daily blog, Mr. Mooseburger will decode Palin’s prophecies for a nu-clear age. Reader responses are not welcome, unless you show the proper respect and deference.

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The Palin Prophecies are archived at www.thepalinprophecies.com. KenArnoldBooks will be publishing Brent Mooseburger’s messages as he channels them. His inspirational messages will be collected into an ebook sometime in October and published by KenArnoldBooks on Amazon Kindle. Entries are copyrighted by KenArnoldBooks, LLC.