A Letter From Sarah Palin
By Kit-Bacon Gressitt
My husband received a letter from Republican vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin Wednesday. I was interested because we hadn’t previously received anything from Palin, and, after her rather vitriolic campaign speeches to the converted, I was particularly curious about what she would have to say to a bipartisan household such as ours.
Imagine my disappointment when I learned from Palin that I — along with all Democrats — possess a “fearful and pessimistic mentality.” She also suggested I don’t share the “spirit, courage and strength” of my Republican husband.
Wowy, I guess I suck! How could I have not known this? How has Steve put up with me all these years?!
I’ve skated through adulthood thinking the occasional lows were just that; assuming when I strode into a new challenge it was my confidence and courage boldly leading me; believing no matter how many hurdles crossed my path, my spirit and strength would see me over them.
Apparently, it’s all a fantasy and I’ve actually been face down in the mud, my trepid tokhes in the air and my gloomy legs ensnared in the hurdle’s bar. How could I have so misread my disposition? Have all Democrats been engaged in a vast conspiracy to deny this ugly secret to each other, to ourselves, or am I’m the only Democrat unaware of just how lousy we are?
Ye gods, just kill me now! I had no idea the depths of my masked malevolence. I thought the evil twin sister line was just a stale joke. Perhaps Democrats all suffer an exotic personality disorder only Republicans have the wisdom to discern.
I grabbed the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) to name my psychosis and determine its severity, but I could find not a single condition that affects only Democrats.
Desperate for recovery, I returned to the letter and read on in search of helpful guidance from Palin to regain my sense of self, my sound mind and good character. And her letter lifted a corner of the dark and dismal fog enshrouding me: I could heal myself by helping “battle back against Democrats and their same old tired-and-failed policies of the past ... by joining the Republican National Committee with a 2008 campaign contribution of $2,000, $1,000, $500, $100, $50 or $35.”
This advice gave me hope: My will to survive had not yet succumbed to the debilitating mental disorder of being a Democrat. I struggled to swim through the miasma of my wretched disease, franticly doggy-paddling toward lucidity, my lungs aching for mental health. I had a vision — an addled vision of eight years of Republican tired-and-failed policies bringing the nation to its knees before a dismayed populace and a disdainful international community. The thought of a lifetime of anti-hallucinogens and their disfiguring side effects flitted through my dwindling consciousness — and then I saw the light!
I burst to the surface with a gasp of clarity: My vision was not an hallucination; it was reality. Palin wasn’t writing about Democrats; it was the Bush tenure she was describing. It must have been a typo.
I breathed a sigh of sweet relief and tried to finish the letter, but when I got to “Working together we will work tirelessly,” I gave up and turned back to the DSM. It’s much better reading, and I noticed a few diagnoses that rang true.
©2008 Kit-Bacon Gressitt