What should Sarah Palin do in 2010?
Our governor has not committed to running for reelection in 2010. Therefore, what is she intending?
Minds with nothing better to ponder want to know!
Ok, I will try to divine her intentions. First, by reading the auguries. The packet of giblets in the turkey will have to do. I am a bit short on goat entrails at the moment.
Well, giblets are giblets. Unless Sarah develops an aversion to Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, nothing new there.
Ahhh, the bones. That should show us something. Matilda, let me have your bone. Matilda! Come on dog, it's just a bone! Nuts. Ok, let me see, last night’s chicken dinner ought to do.
Those of you with a squeamish stomach do not look, as I am digging in the garbage. Oh. Gee, Sarah’s tiff with Letterman, the Troopergate mess, Frank Bailey’s tape of his conversation with Lt. Rod Dial, AST, hauling the kids around. . . no, wait, here’s the chicken bones. Yuk.
Wellll, nothing there, either. Except an aversion to hatchets and anything with Tyson on it.
Let’s see, how about Runes? The Vikings cannot have all been wrong. Hmmmm. I am not certain what sacking Dublin again has to do with Sarah Palin, but it keeps coming up. Must be a Viking thing.
I don’t have any peyote, so that is out.
Ahh, starving until a vision appears. I guess I will go out into the wilderness for awhile and see what I hallucinate. Let’s see, lunch is not for another 3 hours, that should do. I will just sit out here on the back porch humming to myself and see what crops up.
Lunch time. Not a minute too soon! Lightheaded, saw an eagle, and a bear, and Sarah with an AR15 muttering something about shooting . . . never mind, but nothing about Sarah’s political intentions.
Cloud interpretation. Rarely tried, but, maybe something will crop up.
Hey, bring me another iced tea, will you? Hot out here!
Finally! Something! Let’s see, hmmm, could it be?
Hey, that one looks like . . . it’s Elvis!
Not what I was hoping for.
I could Google Sarah’s political intentions. Ok, here goes. Nothing, but conjecture and speculation. Give me a good goat entrail to divine any day over Google.
I need the knowledge of the universe! There is God, but it may take awhile and I need the answer today.
Ahh, wait, little Gracie.
My youngest granddaughter has graduated to squealing and making raspberries. It is speculated, by me, anyway, that babies have the knowledge of the universe, but lose it with the first coherent word. That their squeals and raspberries are an attempt to communicate the secrets of cold fusion, faster than light drive, the recipe to Kentucky Fried Chicken, and how to drive faster than the posted speed limit and not get caught. Gracie has achieved such burst mode communication. I shall consult her.
Do not let cute and cuddly fool you. Gracie is a shrewd operator. She is catered to without having to lift a finger. Her smile melts the heart. Wrapped around that pudgy little finger is an understatement.
Ok, here goes. Gracie. Listen carefully, child, this is important . . . Gracie quit chewing on your feet! Concentrate! Ok. (Squeal, laugh, raspberry!). Ok, that’s better. What are Governor Sarah Palin’s (Gracie is very proper, she insists on formality with public officials), political intentions for 2010? Will Governor Palin run for reelection as governor, or will she seek other office?
Squeal, smile—heart melts—squeal, laugh, tugging on blankey, raspberry, raspberry, waving of arms, serious look, grunting, pronounced squeal, frowning. At this point, my daughter, Gracie’s mother, comes and takes the baby. Dad, Gracie needs her diaper changed! Can’t you tell?
Ah, but I know, that contained in that demonstration of the control the little one exercises over the adults, Gracie has imparted what I have been seeking. The knowledge of the intentions of one Sarah Palin for 2010!
Now, if I could just figure out which squeal, or which raspberry?
On a more serious note, who cares?
What happens in 2010 will happen, and it matters not whether or not the current governor wishes to just be governor of Alaska or be something else. That is Sarah Palin’s choice.