Written by isabar
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Tuesday, 30 September 2008

Having softened the deep wrinkle between his brows with Restylane and Botox, Charlie Gibson hops on the three-day, non-stop, direct flight from New York to Anchorage to interview Governor Sarah Palin. From Anchorage he takes a puddle jumper to Juneau, the Alaskan seat of government. Population: 30k (but most of those are cruiseship passengers on the way to Mendenhall glacier).

"Good Morning Charlie, you must be exhausted from your trip," Governor Palin greets Charlie with her winning smile. She gestures to a barcalounger across her desk. Animal heads litter the walls. A moose, a bear, Bambi's mother.

"I'm fine Governor Palin. Can we get started? I'd like to make the most of the half hour you've graciously granted me. I trust the list of questions is to your liking?" Charlie perches his broad hips on the recliner's arm. He feels uneasy.

"Oh, I don't know Charlie," Palin hesitates a moment to apply lipstick, "I don't want you asking me about my family and my faith. Those are personal matters, you know that."

"You're right Governor, I don't know what got into me. What about the other questions." Charlie's eyes dart nervously around the room. He notices a shotgun leaning against the wall, next to the Governor.

"Ok. Lets see," she checks flash cards one last time. "Iraq: we'll be there one hundred years or until we win, whichever comes first. Iran, Russia and the Muslim terrorist world: we'll fight you until you show us some respect, no matter the cost. Climate change: I will admit there might be some man made element, so what? Economy: I'm not ready on that one. Energy: drill baby drill. Earmarks: I admit I was for them, but I'm not for them now. Selling the jet on ebay? Just a little fib, all part of the game of politics, so get over it. "

"So, Governor, you admit you lied." Regaining his confidence, Charlie speaks in a condescending, patronizing way.

"We're politicians, Charlie, not community organizers. We do what we must to win. Winning is everthing. They don't call me 'Sarah Barracuda' for nothing. Maybe this is a good time to warn our opponent. The gloves are off. Welcome to the world of dirty politics baby!" The governor vigorously punches the air, then reaches for the shotgun and fires. A moose drops dead outside her window.

Charlie ensures his Kevlar vest is in place.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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