Sara(h) Smiles, Part 16: Pre-Traumatic Stress Disorder

Having embraced common-sense conservatism hasn’t been without its pitfalls. Whereas I now enjoy 110 percent confidence that I’m doing that which God wants me to do for His favorite country ever, I’m also stung on pretty much a daily basis by the cruel, spiteful things nonbelievers are forever saying about Sarah. When they ridicule her for slips of the tongue that we who love her find nothing but endearing, or mock her undiagrammable sentences, it hurts me too.

At the mere mention of post-traumatic stress disorder, the so-called progressives get all gelatinous with empathy, imagining its victims to be the victims of George W. Bush’s allegedly inglorious war. (We common sense conservatives, of course, regard our liberation of the Iraqi people — as we would regard the liberation of any oppressed people — as wholly noble.) And yet the so-called progressives’ empathy seems to vanish without a trace in the face of the recent revelation that Sarah is suffering from a severe case of pre-traumatic stress disorder.

The literature to this point reports occurrences of this malady only in celebrities and politicians, whose emotional scarring by something that hasn’t actually happened yet — being surrounded by braying paparazzi while out shopping, say, or being assassinated — is no less immobilizing than the anxiety suffered by war veterans.
John Hinckley shot at Ronald Reagan to impress Jodie Foster, decades before she became Mel Gibson’s most energetic apologist, and Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme wanted to kill Gerald Ford on behalf of the redwoods. An Iraqi journalist threw his shoe at George W. Bush, killing him. More recently, Tony Blair, Nicolas Sarkozy, Silvio Berlusconi, and Fiji’s Minister of Weights and Measures have all been assassinated.

So maybe it isn’t so nutty at all that one in Sarah Palin’s position would feel wary while out addressing a political rally or signing copies of her new book, Notes I Wrote to Myself On My Hand. And maybe too it isn’t really that hard to understand that after a while, her having to wonder constantly if some crazed Obamarxist with a handgun of the sort promised him by the Second Amendment is about to shoot her dead, causes her tongue occasionally to slip — to say North Korea when she means South, for instance. Maybe instead of so gleefully ridiculing her gaffes, the press, just for a change, could concentrate on the fact that she’s offering better suggestions for getting America back on track than all others combined!

In other news, attempts to get that Burmese woman with the weird four-part name to sign on as Sarah’s presumptive running mate in 2012 have apparently stalled; the woman’s apparently too busy letting the Burmese press fawn all over her to think about what’s best for America. Mitt Romney, who no one doubts would look adorable, with his chiseled features and gray temples, standing behind Sarah on podiums — the two of them would undoubtedly make the most telegenic twosome in American political history — is apparently intent on running for president in his own right. Spoiled brat.

My guess is that Sarah might very well have the same problem of egotism with Donald Trump, who would also make a terrific running mate. He’s obviously gorgeous, with a pout that has endeared him to tens of millions of viewers of his reality show The Asshole Boss, has the most interesting coiffure since A Flock of Seagulls, and is obviously both good and very smart, as evidenced by his great wealth. If only someone could persuade him to put the country’s interests ahead of his own, or at least to convince him that the two are in fact one and the same!

Assuming that this will prove impossible, Ted Nugent seems a perfect choice. He’s on record as believing the Second Amendment to be the only gun license or carry permit any American should need. He is disgusted, as are all right-thinking Americans, by forms of sexual expression other than his own. He’s an avid hunter who once proclaimed, “I’m stymied to come up with anything funnier than people who think animals have rights. Just stick an arrow through their lung.” We haven’t seen that sort of decisiveness since the late George W. Bush!

Countless tens of millions of baby boomer rock fans are guaranteed to bellow, “Whoo-hoo!” when his having joined the ticket is announced, spilling Bud Lite all over themselves in the process, but so what?

Drill, babies, drill!

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