Chapter One

The black Winnebago eased to a stop in the parking lot at the rear of the Wal-Mart Supercenter. It was 3:05 am in Alexandria, VA, so the store was closed and the parking lot was empty, save for a few employee vehicles by the loading dock.

Three black Suburbans established a perimeter between the motor home and the expanse of the empty lot.

It was an odd sight. First of all, you don’t see many all black Winnebago Vectras on the highways. And to see one stopped in the most distant part of a Wal-Mart parking lot at 3 am, flanked by three black SUVs painted a really surreal picture. It warrants a “WTF?”

A muffled “chop-chop-chop-chop” barely gave away the two black RAH-66 Comanche helicopters flying covering circles over the vicinity – keeping a stealthy watch over things.

Inside, the hoods over their heads came off, one-by-one, and the duct tape stripped from their mouths – quickly, wordlessly, painfully.

Bawney Fwank was the first to react, “What the cwap is going on here?” “Why were we kidnapped?” “Where the [bleep] are we?” “Do you know who I am?”

“I know, Mr. Frank.”

The voice was obviously scrambled; it sounded oddly metallic and couldn’t even be identified as male or female. It simply came from a dark area at the back of the Winnebago.

With no lights on inside, the only illumination filtering in was from the parking lot and that didn’t help his vision much.

As Fwank’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was surprised to see Speaker Pelosi to his left, rubbing her eyes. To his right, Senator Harry Reid was rising to his feet looking somewhat frightened by the night’s activities so far. “Who are you and why are we here,” he asked; his voice cracking.

“You are all my guests for the next hour, so sit down and listen to what I’m saying and you’ll soon be returned to your homes.”

“You can’t do this – I demand that you return us to our homes and turn yourself in to the police.” Madame Speaker was obviously outraged. She was showing more cajones than Senator Reid who, by this time, was sporting a widening wet spot in his crotchal area.

“If you are uncooperative, I’ll have you restrained” the voice said calmly, matter-of-factly.

Two very large, sumo-wrestler-sized men stepped from the shadows and grunted their agreement with the voice. They were dressed in black with KKK-style hoods and were indeed a fearsome sight – dark giants eagerly anticipating an opportunity to mash the congress-hoes into a$$-butter.

“Wight, we-we-we’ll co-co-cowopawate,” said Bawney Fwank, whose sphincter had puckered enough by now to suck part of his pajamas up into never-land. “There’s no need for viowence.”

The voice said: ”I want you to pass a bill. I’ve written the bill for you. You’ll be given a copy when you leave … do you understand?”

“You can’t do that, we’re members of Congress and we take direction from no one.” Speaker Pelosi was not smart enough to know when to be intimidated.

“Madame Speaker, you already take direction from the auto unions, the teacher’s unions, the trial lawyers, ACORN, moveon.org, and others, I’m just adding our organization to that very long list.”

“And what gwoup is that?” Bawney Fwank finally lispthed.

“We are ANUS”

In spite of their grim situation, Reid and Frank both managed stifled laugher. Senator Reid regained his voice enough to ask “Anus? Like butthole?”

The giant on the left, moving silently and swiftly, grabbed the Senator, turned him around, and lifted him up three feet by his pajama bottoms, giving him a testicular wedgie. “Ahhhhhh ohhhhhh noooooo.” The lift left the Senator with all of his weight painfully supported on his two little beans. To say the least – IT HURT. He squealed like a pre-teen girl. The giant jerked him up a few more times to be sure that the Senator understood that he was helpless and then dropped him to the floor.

The Senator immediately assumed a fetal position (thumb in mouth) and began sobbing.

“Did you say something Senator Reid?”

Reid managed to stammer, between sobs, “I’m s-s-s-sorry, I didn’t m-m-mean anyth-th-thing by it.”

“See here – I don’t know who you are but you cannot kidnap members of Congress and treat us like that,” fumed Speaker Pelosi.” “I’ll have your head for this. I’ll have you water-boarded.”

There was a flash from the darkness on the right. Wires glistened as they uncoiled in the split-second the barbs took to reach the Speaker. The Taser’s barbs entered her midsection and transferred 50,000 volts into her body. She barely took a breath before she fell to the floor, writhing, moaning, and jerking uncontrollably.

“You should learn to keep your mouth shut, Madame Speaker.” “Representative Frank, have you anything to add?”

“No, I’m good.”

“The bill will support a new union; American Nationals United for Socialism (ANUS). But we must remain in the background.”

“But we’re aweady on your side – we’re moving wapidly to enact thubstanthal impwovemenths for unions – unions own us.” Frank was the only one in any shape to converse (if that’s what his butchering of the language could be called).

Senator Reid was on the floor, still shaking and sucking his thumb. He was now surrounded by a glistening wet spot. 

“You will now listen … Senator Reid, are you listening?”

“Yyyyessss, sir.”

“Madame Speaker, do you hear me – do you understand?”

Between occasional involuntary tremors, Pelosi replied, “Uhhh yyyy uhhh yyyyesss.”

“Good. I represent a faction that is not satisfied with the pace of your activities. There is growing dissatisfaction with your casual approach. We therefore will force a more rapid conversion to Socialism. We have already visited several of your peers and have received assurances that they will support our cause.”

“You mean other wepresentives and senators?”

“Yes, and tomorrow we’ll visit several more.” “We’ll have the most powerful and influential members behind our legislation.”

“You should know that in addition to other methods of convincing you, we do possess certain information about each of you – photos, video, audio, or other documented evidence that you wouldn’t want exposed.”

“Impothible,” Fwank was bluffing.

“Do you remember those sex tapes that you participated in, Mr. Frank? I believe one was called ‘Fat Dorky Queens Gone Wild’ and another was ‘Foot Tapping Your Way to Airport Romance.’ Remember those? You were even listed in the credits for ‘Foot Tapping’ under your street name ‘Pinkie Winkie.’ Remember?”

“How did you,” …….. he stopped, whiter than a bleached KKK sheet, unsure what to do … or say.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“And Speaker Pelosi, lest you feel left out, we have video of you riding in the 2008 ‘Dykes on Bikes’ parade. You were disguised, but we can identify you by your tattoos, piercings, moles, and wrinkles. We also have a video evidence of a motel tryst between you and a well known millionaire and a deposit to your Bahamian bank on the following day. There’s a term for women who provide sex for money and another for a public official who sells influence, are you familiar with those terms, Madame Speaker?”

Silence.

“And we haven’t forgotten you, Senator Reid.” “We have records of your payments to a Ms. Juggs O’Plenty to care for a love-child born to that Las Vegas stripper in 2004. You thought that the court documents were sealed, but we have copies. We also know about the $250,000 payment to fund the education of little Dick O’Plenty.”

“This information can be quietly leaked to the press in a way that assures that the stories won’t be buried. We’ll release bits and pieces over several weeks so the story just won’t die, it will build – and it will ruin you, is that what you want?”

A reluctant but unanimous “NO” was the response.

“I’m glad we understand one another. As long as you follow my instructions, none of the evidence will be released. But make no mistake, if you falter, we’ll replace you with another member and you’ll suffer the consequences, do you understand?”

A reluctant but unanimous “YES” this time.

“Good. My associates will give you copies of the bill. You will allow no amendments and you’ll pass it with a voice vote. I expect that it will be unanimous among democrats.”

“What is the bill about – what will it do?” Bawney Fwank, not having been wedgied or Tasered, he was most in command of his facilities.

“The bill is called ‘The Honesty, Truth, and Fairness Act of 2009’. It will provide political cover for you while funding our programs. That’s all you need to know for now.”

Bawney Fwank felt a large arm grab him from behind and at the same time, a puff of vapor engulfed his face. Harry Reid’s thumb was forcibly pulled from his mouth, followed by a puff of gas and a similar fate befell Speaker Pelosi. In less than a minute, all three were unconscious and hooded.

Chapter Two

H.R.666 just appeared. There was no buzz preceding its introduction, no talk about it, as was commonly the case. No representatives were enlisting support, there was no preamble, no warning – as if by magic, all of a sudden, it was just there.

H.R.666, “The Honesty, Truth, and Fairness Act of 2009” was sponsored by Bwarney Fwank and had twenty-two co-sponsors. There was some question about why the bill was reported out of Rep. Fwank’s Financial Services Committee, but any sort of questioning was quickly silenced.

The only detail available to House members was a Committee Report summary. The Committee cited logistical problems for not having the full bill text available for study. President Obama’s new Portuguese Waterboard dog reportedly ate the bill. Consequently, a Secret Service agent was tasked with examining the dog’s “droppings” to be sure that the bill has been returned to its original state (dog poop).

The Report summarized (without any defining detail) the purpose and scope of the bill. Its purported goal was to give the American public a way to assess the accuracy of any political statement, whether issued by an individual or by a governmental body. A Department of Truth select committee would issue an accuracy report certifying a statement as being “True or False.” The certified statements would be available to the public via a toll-free telephone line or on the Internet at a website maintained by the department.

Once a statement was certified, it became a legally “true” or legally “false” statement, thus citizens could make an informed decision about whether to support an issue or vote for a candidate.

It would later come as no surprise that the first “CS” (Certifying Statement) issued by the committee would be one certifying that the select committee was infallible. Measures were in place (no details forthcoming on those measures) that precluded the Department of Truth from making an error. In other words, whatever the determination made by the select committee, it was gospel truth and would stand up in court.

There were no public hearings; only one closed-door hearing before it was reported out of committee. There were no amendments. The arm-twisting began immediately. There was to be minimal debate scheduled and Speaker Pelosi expected a quick voice vote no later than Thursday.

Wednesday night the bill was passed in closed session and immediately hand-carried to Senator Reid. The bill was introduced, referred to committee, and issued a number (S.70) in record time.

Two days later, the Senate passed the bill (via voice vote) and it was hand-carried to the White House. The President signed it the following afternoon and it was law.

The DNC did post the bill’s summary on the official party website, but only after it was signed by the president and it was (accidentally) reproduced only in Esperanto. They promised an English translation at some later date. So much for legislative “transparency.”

Bawney Fwank was named Gwand Exalted Chairman of the Select Committee and immediately embarked on a quest to find the Holy Gwail of politics - an honest, twuth-telling democwat.

Rep. Fwank explained, “A questionnaire went out to all democwats in Congress (Senators Snowe, Specter, and Collins were incwuded) in pweparation for naming the wemaining committee members. Those chosen would need exempwary character and honesty beyond weproach … like me.”

Pesky Truth has learned that a candidate’s character and honesty will be measured against a benchmark. That benchmark will be Speaker Nancy Pelosi, known as the “Mother Superior” of the House for her nun-like passion for the truth. Chaiman Fwank noted that naming The Speaker as the benchmark may set the bar too high as she is known as “possessing a spotless moral character,” similar to Mother Theresa.”

The next day, Chairman Fwank announced that Senator John Kerry (who served in Viet Nam) would be named Vice Chairman. “This is an honor befitting a person with impeccable qwedentials for twuth-telling. Senator Kerry was distinguished as a Viet Nam hewo with four Purple Heart commendations to his cwedit.”

Ed. Note: Conservative bloggers maintained that the most recent Purple Heart was bogus. It was issued retroactively for a large splinter in the Senator’s right buttock, resulting from a bizarre Denny’s restroom incident. Chairman Fwank vouched personally for the injury, having attended to Sen. Kerry’s buttocks himself.

A joint statement issued by Speaker Pelosi and Senate Leader Reid extolled the honesty and fairness shown by the two chairmen throughout their respective careers. “The truth could not be in better hands,” was the closing compliment in the glowing statement.

Some House members expressed concern that the Speaker’s health may be failing. She was seen to occasionally experience brief episodes of convulsions and expletive-laced mumbling. The peculiar behavior seemed to occur most often when she was in the vicinity of garage door openers or remote controls.

Over 300 questionnaires were returned. It was apparent that the remaining committee memberships were viewed as choice appointments.

Congressional Republicans pushed hard for a battery of tests to confirm the veracity of the committee members. Democrats quickly put down the measure, saying that the suggestion was politically-motivated and was too demeaning to be considered. “They’re as much as saying that democwats are untwuthful,” complained Chairman Fwank, “it’s widiculous.”

“Democrats don’t know the meaning of the word “prefabricate,” was the response from Vice Chairman Kerry (who served in Viet Nam). A Fox News reporter queried, “Don’t you mean prevaricate?” The Senator got huffy and was clearly angry at the suggestion that he made a mistake. “I was using the term in its siloquistic fluperfect form – something that you Fox News rabble simply wouldn’t understand.” “That’s not even a word,” could be heard from the reporter as he was promptly ushered out of the conference room. “What a moron,” were the reporter’s final words.

“Yo mama smells like Ghen-ghis (sic) Khan” yelled the Senator after the reporter.

CNN reported that Senator Kerry (who served in Viet Nam) sliced and diced the ignorant Fox reporter into pieces with his linguistic dexterity. “He really baited the kid - the Senator being a master baiter of words,” the CNN journalist added with obvious glee.

Over the next several days, various names began to leak out. There was a suspicion that many of the leaks were akin to throwing piles of warm manure against the wall to see if any stuck. Ed. Note: A more appropriate description of the Congressional democrats could hardly be found.

In the end, the remaining five members were announced at a press conference held in the Capitol Rotunda. President Obama pulled rank and wanted to appear Presidential by announcing the names himself.

To avoid embarrassment, his speechwriters had begun including Obama’s trademark “uhs” in his speeches, imbedding them wherever they seemed appropriate. This was easier for the president to follow since he became confused when forced to ad-lib without the aid of his teleprompter.

“Seekers of the uh truth rejoice, for today we begin our uh, transition from a policy of uh, lies and deceit practiced by the previous uh, administration and into the honest, forthright era of twuth, er, truth.”

“I said that my administration would be transparent and uh, you all now know that everyone can see right through my uh, policies.”

“I am very pleased to uh, announce the remaining five members of the uh, Truth Committee.” “Standing behind me are uh, Rep. Charlie Rangel, Senator Ted uh, Kennedy, Rep. John Murtha, Rep. uh, Barbara Lee and Rep. Henry uh, Waxman. We can all take comfort in the knowledge that they will serve the American people well as supreme judges of truth and honesty.”

In a moment of levity, the president asked the assembled group, “Did I speak the truth?” They gathered together in a mock huddle, paused for a moment, and then breaking the huddle, shouted “He spoke the truth!”

His handlers didn’t like the “Joe the Plumber” moment of candor by Obama. It made him look like he was going to redistribute the wealth of hard-working small business owners like Joe to others who hadn’t worked as hard, taken risks, and paid their dues. Obama’s unfortunate slip of the tongue resulted in that video being played over and over and it wasn’t helping his campaign.

His campaign advisors were brainstorming when one of them had a suggestion, “How about we counter with our own working-class guy – like a mechanic – a small town hard-working blue collar guy who understands how he will benefit”?

The group warmed to the idea. Who better to illustrate how Obama’s plan would result in a fairer economic climate for all – not just the “highly paid”?

And thus, the group begat “Mac the Mechanic.”

Mac wasn’t a real person, but an amalgam of auto mechanics everywhere. They’d create a Mac for Obama to meet and chat with, and use him to correct the public’s unfortunate misunderstanding of his new tax policies.

Joe the Plumber had left a mark. He had his fifteen minutes of fame when he challenged Obama on his tax policies and got the admission that "I think that when you spread the wealth around, it's good for everybody” statement by Obama.

Obama had let a momentary intrusion of truth throw a pipe wrench into the carefully constructed façade that only rich folks would pay taxes and anyone earning over $250,000 was rich.

No matter that Joe was right – right had nothing to do with it. The entire campaign was assembled to look and sound good to voters. The campaign was a gourmet dish made from a recipe of poll results, marketing studies and focus group choices. They used carefully chosen words to create a perception in the minds of the voter. In the case of Obama’s campaign promises, one must always parse the words carefully – it will always depend on what the definition of “is” is. It was delicately crafted, and it was working.

One of the staff had an uncle who owned a garage in Bugbutt, Ohio. After a little negotiating, he was willing to host the “accidental” meeting and allow signage to be changed for the “shoot.” Bugbutt was a small town, typical in every way to hundreds of other small towns in the country.

The garage was a two-deep, two-bay building with a wash/detail stall and a small office. There were typically four or five cars under repair at any one time. The owner would be a man called “Mac Entosh,” he would be the person to “accidentally” meet and converse with Obama at some upcoming photo opportunity.

The photo-op would happen in the week just prior to November fourth so any investigation into the veracity of Mr. Entosh couldn’t refute his statements until after the election. The mainstream print and television media wouldn’t check out anything that was pro-Obama anyway. After the election, even if it was learned that Mac Entosh was a fabricated plant, it would be too late to do anything about it. And of course, the campaign would vehemently deny playing any part in it.

The person to play Entosh was an actor named Allen Rench who had a couple of bit parts in two off-Broadway plays, “An Inconvenient Itch,” and “Smell me, I Stink.” Far from a mechanic, Allen didn’t even drive. He wan an environmental nutcase from the Big Apple and his preferred mode of transportation was a recumbent bicycle.

Mr. Rench was briefed on what he should ask Obama and how to answer any questions that Obama might ask him. He’d lament how awful the past eight years have been and how Obama’s policies would be good for the country. He’d also volunteer that McCain was too old and Palin was too inexperienced to run the country. They’d have him mention that he’d always been an Independent and had only recently decided on Obama – after he’d done a lot of research on the candidate’s policies.

The campaign’s covert-ops (they “fixed” things) managed to get a mechanic’s license, membership in a local union, and a clean slate of state and federal taxes for Mr. Entosh. He was squeaky clean. No matter that there wasn’t any such person, that un-person was a real upright citizen.

They decided that they’d make the stop in Bugbutt while en route from Toledo to Cleveland in the campaign bus. Bugbutt was about 60 miles southwest of Sandusky and only required a short detour. It was an opportunity for Obama to listen to small town Ohio – middle America, and show everyone how interested he was in the plight of ordinary citizens. It would be a brief rest stop highlighting Obama’s interest in the “working guy,” and (surprise!) it would be televised live.

~~~

Obama’s media staff had contacted the TV stations in Toledo, Cleveland, and Sandusky to let them know about a live coverage opportunity coming up in Bugbutt. Forewarned, the satellite trucks were already set up and waiting as the bus pulled up in front of Mac the Mechanic’s garage.

The talking heads rushed to position themselves so that the bus was a backdrop. Awaiting the descent of the Messiah, they droned on with the same blather about how it was such an honor for a small-town garage to host the great man. All three TV cameras were “rolling” as the bus door opened and Obama stepped down. He smiled at the cameras and waved as all three reporters rushed towards him. The Secret Service stepped in and kept them at a distance.

The shouted questions belied the goal of being the first to be acknowledged rather than getting any real response. They might as well be shouting “me first,” all at once. Finally, Obama stopped and pointed to the black female reporter from WWHO in Sandusky.

Geneva Convention introduced herself and asked, “What’s the purpose of your stop here in Bugbutt”? Obama smiled, she was pretty and if he had the time … but no, reason and fear of Michelle prevailed and he answered her question.

“Geneva, we heard about this small business owner, doin’ pretty well here in Bugbutt, and we wanted to make sure that other small business owners understand how my tax policies would help them.” “You know, the country got some bad information from Joe the Plumber, and we just wanted to set it right.”

The reporters were still all vying for another question as Allen Rench walked out of the shop office. Obama turned his attention to the man. He was fifty-ish, wearing a somewhat soiled blue uniform with “Mac” over one pocket. “Are you the owner”? asked Obama. “I am, for over twenty years, welcome Senator.” Mac Entosh extended his hand (a hand much too clean and manicured to be a real mechanic).

Following his script, Mac asked Obama “what made you stop here, Senator?” Obama replied, “I wanted to pick out a working guy, a small businessman at random, to see if my tax message is getting across to middle America.” Before they could continue, a secret service guy whispers something to Obama.

“Mac, maybe you could check out that SUV in front of the bus, they tell me that it appears to be leaking something.” “We can talk while you look at it.”

‘Oh crap,” thought Mac the Mechanic. This wasn’t in the script – he’d have to wing it. “Looks like frangelator fluid, Senator, I’ll have one of the guys take a look at it – it could be serious.”

Although the (real) mechanics who worked at the garage had come out to see Obama’s fancy tour bus, they quickly disappeared when they heard the actor begin to diagnose the leak. Let the actor figure it out – an actor playing a mechanic – this oughta be good.

Mac walked over to the black Surburban and peaked beneath it to see the puddle forming. “It could be a hoofnagle joint problem.” Mac was trying – where the hell are the real mechanic dudes? He didn’t even know their names, so he just called out, “Hey Jack, how ‘bout coming out here for a minute.” There was no one named Jack - and there was no response. “One of you guys wanna give me a hand here”? The actor was getting desperate. A voice came from somewhere in the garage, “you want a creeper, boss”?

“Yeah, let me have a metric one.” A creeper came rolling out of the left bay door. No one followed it.

For those auto-repair-challenged individuals out there, a creeper is a very low platform, only an inch or two off the ground, maybe 18” wide by 30-36” long, on casters so a mechanic can lay on it and roll himself under a vehicle to work on the underside. Mac had only seen a creeper once before and had little idea how to “work” it. He lay down and rolled under, smudging grease on his nose and banging his elbow in the process.

A voice came from the garage, “better tighten the floosy knob and check the warpnagle filter boss, you know how they tend to leak,” some stifled laughter escaped the confines of the shop.

Under the big Suburban, Mac looked around at the most unfamiliar expanse of mechanical stuff he’d ever seen – he had no idea what anything was. He turned his head just in time for a drip to land in his right ear. His reaction was to jerk his head up – it banged into something hard and greasy – that’s gonna leave a mark – then his head rebounded back down, missing the creeper and banging into the gravel and asphalt of the street. “Sonufabitch,” was his automatic reaction (a bleep at the television stations).

Obama had enough, this wasn’t working. “Mac, come on out, we’ll worry about the leak later, I want to ask you about your business.”

Mac was glad to hear that. He started to roll himself out and found that his pants leg was caught on something (must be that damn homfromer joint). “Coming out, Senator.” Mac jerked his leg left and right, trying to tug it free – only to imbed whatever it was more deeply. Mac was beginning to lose his temper.

The string of expletives started slowly, and intensified as Mac jerked his leg about, still trying to extricate his body from under the SUV. Now jerking the other leg, he banged it on a pooky strut and got it wedged between a tire and the finklesteen flange. Pretty much stuck now, the torrent of bleep-words erupted again and at full volume.

The sight of this overweight, 50-ish guy flailing about under the Suburban was being captured on three television stations – live, and in high definition. Laughter could now be heard coming from the garage – no longer suppressed, there were full-boat guffaws.

Obama called one of his agents over and said something to him. He was ready to cut his losses and get away from Bugbutt now. “Hey Mac, we need to get on down the road, can you get yourself out or do you need help”?

Mac gave one final superhuman contortion and broke free at the same time as an audible “RRRIIIPPP” could be heard loudly mixed in among the curse words. His uniform’s front zipper had given way, and there for all the world to see, were his overalls split wide open in the crotch area, exposing his private parts; he’d picked the wrong day to go commando. His toupee was now unattached and falling over his left ear, his body was spread-eagled and his “goodies” exposed to the television viewing audience. It was not Allen Rench’s proudest moment.

The next day, a few selected pieces were run on the television stations – mostly just showing Obama arriving at the garage (not much else could be shown to a family audience) but somehow, an unedited copy starring Allen Rench (playing Mac the Mechanic) in all his glory did find its way to YouTube. It was titled, “Mac the Mechanic – Exposed” and was viewed 455,812 times in the first three days.

Obama beat a hasty retreat, leaking Suburban and all. Although Mac the Mechanic wasn’t on record as having said the things that he’d been scripted to say, the campaign used the statements anyway. They maintained that Mac and Obama had a brief conversation away from the cameras before Obama left and that Mac had enthusiastically endorsed Obama’s tax policies.

Chapter One, Caminuee, the spirit of the forest.

Sarah was born at an early age. As soon as she was old enough to heft a rifle, she hunted. She and her father would sometimes wake up at 3 a.m. to hunt moose before school. She fished and hiked and was more at home in the outdoors than in a warm, cozy cabin. Sarah was one with nature.

One morning, when she was a teenager, she was tracking some moose sign when she was startled by an unusual sound coming from a dense stand of trees to her left.

“Sarah.” It was a deep voice – it sounded like James Earl Jones calling her name. Who could it be?

“Sarah.” There it was again. She carefully eased towards the voice, her .30-06 ready.

Then she saw it through the dense cover.

A pure white moose. A giant one at that. He must be eight feet at the shoulders and his antlers – wow – must be six feet, at least. She was transfixed – the white moose was glowing, shimmering, like a flickering candle flame.

“Cama-I, Sarah.” Sarah recognized that as a greeting in Yup’ik. She was dumbfounded, was this ghostly, giant moose actually talking to her?

“Yes, Sarah, I am Caminuee, the Spirit of the Forest.” Sarah’s mouth, now wide open, was paralyzed – she couldn’t speak. An insect flew right into her open mouth, buzzed around, and then flew back out.

“You have been chosen.” The moose said.

Sarah finally came to her senses, “chosen for what?” She couldn’t believe that she was having a conversation with a moose?

“To save the world.”

Sarah shook her head. She didn’t drink or smoke, she didn’t do drugs – was she going crazy? Hearing a moose (a white one, at that) telling her that she had been chosen to save the world – must’ve been that elk and anchovy pizza fighting back or something. She wanted to turn and get away but found that she couldn’t move. This was becoming scary.

“Do not fear, Sarah. You are the chosen one who will save the earth.” “Because you are pure of heart and spirit, you will be given powers.” “You will fight evil and do good things for all the world’s creatures.”

A shiver started at Sarah’s toes and traveled up to her hair – like a cold chill – then, all at once, it was gone, replaced by a feeling of confidence and strength. Somehow, she knew that she could do it. She could save the world.

The moose spoke again, “your powers will remain dormant until the ninth month of the year of the dark son. A great evil will be at its strongest then, and only then can it be defeated. The spirits of the earth will come together and fill you with the power of truth. At that time, you will be prepared to do battle with the forces of darkness.”

Sarah understood. Somehow, everything was clear to her now, and she knew when the time came, she would be ready.

“Owahkänaa, chosen one” the moose shimmered, blurred, and ‘pop’ he was gone.

It was late August, 2008 when John McCain asked Sarah to become his running mate as candidate for the office of Vice President. The invitation was a complete surprise to everyone. After all, she had yet to complete a full term as governor.

It came as a surprise to McCain too. Governor Palin wasn’t even on his short list until he had a dream Sunday night. In the dream, Teddy Roosevelt came to him and told him to choose Governor Palin as his VP candidate. The next morning, he had aides bring him all of the information they’d gathered on Gov. Palin. It was a long shot, but he needed something to shake up the campaign. Drawing upon all of his courage, he called Governor Sarah Palin, offered her the job, and she accepted. What McCain did took solid titanium cajones.

That night, Sarah had a dream in which the white moose appeared again. “It is time, Sarah.” Instantly, it all came back to her. She was going to save the world – at least that’s what the moose said.

The James Earl Jones voice spoke again, only this time it wasn’t in a dream, it was real. “Pick up your glasses, Sarah.” She picked up her glasses from the night table, but they weren’t her glasses, now they were different – the frames were now darker, heavier, and dorky-looking. “Those are spirit glasses, Sarah.” “You will only have your powers while you’re wearing those glasses, when you take them off, you will be an ordinary woman.”

Sarah put on the glasses and instantly she could feel a difference. She had been sitting on the side of the bed – now she was floating about two feet above it – floating? Whoosh, now she was in the family room, still floating about four feet in air. Whoosh, now she was back in her bedroom. She just thought it and she was there! “Faster than a speeding bullet,” she thought, smiling to herself.

The moose spoke again, “you will know the truth in a man’s heart, and you will see things in a person’s mind, and you will have the strength of righteousness.” “These powers are given you by the earth spirits, use them wisely.” The moose shimmered, blurred, and ‘pop’ he was gone again.

Sarah thought she’d give it a try. She peaked into Todd’s mind – he was dreaming. What! A woman! Who’s that? It’s Pamela Anderson! That bitsh! Sarah shoved Todd hard and Pamela disappeared and Todd was now riding his motorcycle instead – that’s better. “Snorff uhhhhh,” Todd mumbled, and returned to deep sleep.

She took off the spirit glasses and tried to go back to sleep. It’s hard to sleep when your mind is racing, as hers was now. She didn’t sleep much that night. After all, how often is someone selected to possibly be the Vice President of the United States and given superhero powers on the same day?

Meeting in the lobby, her secret service guy welcomed her, “good morning, Governor.” Sarah could see that his heart was pure. “Good morning, Chuck.” At least she could count on both of her secret service guys. The other one (Pat), was a good guy too. That was reassuring.

They drove to the Buckeye Corner shopping center. They were meeting John McCain there to formally introduce her to America. He was waiting as they arrived at the east entrance. He extended his hand. She (thankfully) found his heart and mind sincere and truthful.

The speech went well. John was pleased, she was pleased, and the crowd loved it.

Back at the hotel and thinking about her “powers,” she decided that she needed a costume and a name for her evil-fighting alter-ego. If she was going to be flying around doing good, she should look the part. After a little thought, she settled on “Mighty Mom.”

The elevator door opened amid sounds of noise and confusion coming from the lobby of the hotel. She could hear it clearer as they stepped out and approached the lobby. When they saw Sarah, the raucous shouting turned into a verbal assault – on her! Her secret service guys moved in front of her as two Code Pink “water buffalos” approached – yelling vile insults.

Sarah decided the time had come. She told her detail she would return to her room and order room service. The trio returned to an elevator and in minutes Sarah was back in her room. She quickly put on her costume and dork glasses and opening the window, Mighty Mom flew out.

The Code Pinkers were gathered with a few other sympathizers at the corner, elated that they scared the Governor back to her room. Mighty Mom dropped right down in their midst. “What the hell”? MM grasped the garments of the two Code Pinkers, one in each hand, and yanked upwards, de-clothing both at the same time. Both were now clad only in bras and granny panties. MM gave the panties a quick upwards pull, lifting both women off the ground and giving both “ladies” nuclear wedgies. She held the wedgies long enough for two nearby paparazzi to snap pictures of the two overweight females flailing about, writhing in wedgie agony. “Get plenty of pictures, guys – these are Obama supporters. This one is Sally Forth and this one (yanking the left one a little higher) is Anita Lobottome.” Mighty Mom dropped one atop the other in a 400 lb. pile of blubber (it quivered for a moment) and said, “Lay off a real American mom, or Ah’ll be baaack.” With that, she flew off.

The gathered crowd couldn’t believe what they’d witnessed. A flying masked woman with superhuman strength (and wearing a snappy red, white, and blue frock) manhandling two “plus-sized” Pinks.

Back in her room, Sarah was again pleased that she’d probably caused two women to resign from Code Pink; she wondered where the pictures would appear? The Inquirer? After a quick lunch and a short nap, Sarah was awaken by the phone. It was a producer from MSNBC who wanted an interview. Interviews were scheduled through the campaign not by talking directly to someone (and how did they get her cell number?). But she thought, what better way to joust with Chris Matthews or Keith Olbermann. She agreed to an interview with Olbermann. She’d iron it out with Dan Druff, the interview coordinator later.

It was time for an interview with the New York Times. She and her entourage went to a small conference room on the second floor. They found Mr. Head waiting outside. After pleasantries, they took some comfortable chairs and M.T.’s producer plugged in a power supply for a video camera. Sarah slipped on the dork glasses and looked into M.T. She was shocked at what she saw. It seems that M.T. likes to dress up in woman’s clothing, lacy underwear, makeup and all - actually, he made a nice looking woman. That information could be useful if he tried to play games with Sarah or trap her into something stupid.

Sarah and the secret service guys decided to stop at the bar and have a beer – of course the SS guys drank soft drinks. Sarah had a frosty Corona. It was nice to relax for a moment and sip a cold beer – but now a siren intruded. It grew louder and then stopped, it seemed to stop at the hotel. After a few minutes, Pat asked the bartender what was going on. Apparently, a child was out on a ledge on the eighth floor. A fire truck was raising a ladder, but it was not going to reach the petrified child, it could only reach the sixth floor.

Using the excuse of wanting to distance herself from a growing crowd, Sarah quickly went back to her room. She changed into Mighty Mom and flew up from her third-floor room. The toddler was crying and flat against the side of the building, afraid to take a step. The little girl was about three or four and was screaming for her mother. MM scooped up the child and floated down to the ground. A wide-eyed paramedic took the little girl to the emergency vehicle to calm her.

Before anyone could respond, MM flew back up to the eighth floor to see how the child got out of the window. Windows at that height were supposed to be fixed and shouldn’t open. There, she found the window broken out and a woman slumped on a bed. Shaking her didn’t work; she was unresponsive. Mighty Mom picked her up and flew back down to the EMT vehicle. They took over and immediately started checking vital signs.

Mighty Mom was inundated by the crowd, they thanked her profusely and touched her – they couldn’t believe what they’d witnessed - a flying masked woman with superhuman strength (and wearing a snappy red, white, and blue frock), they were flabbergasted.

The Caped Mom freed herself from the throng and flew back into the open window of the eighth floor. From there, she could sneak back to her window when fewer people were paying attention. Again, she felt happy and proud that she’d save a child’s life and perhaps a mom’s life as well.

Just as she had changed back to Sarah clothes, a knock on her door startled her. Looking through the peephole, she saw it was Chuck. She opened the door and he said, “You didn’t answer your phone and Sen. McCain has been trying to reach you.” “Oh, I unplugged it so I could take a nap without being disturbed. I’ll call him right now.”

Sarah packed her Mighty Mom costume into her shoulder bag, just in case she needed it. They had an early flight Tuesday morning - a short flight to Spleen, Ohio. They arrived without incident and went straight to the hotel. The rally was scheduled for 10 AM at the VFW hall. The advance team had everything in place when the candidates arrived and found the place packed with supporters.

Sarah went first and had the crowd chanting “Sa-ruh, Sa-ruh” so loud she could barely be heard – she wowed them. She introduced the Senator and stood behind him as he sliced and diced Obama’s promises and told the crowd how the “cow ate the cabbage.” They loved it. As John was finishing up, a commotion broke out at the rear of the room.

Two fatigue-clad men were holding up signs and screaming “war monger, stop the war,” over and over. The signs identified them as “VAIW” (Vets Against the Iraq War). Sarah excused herself to the ladies room and quickly changed. She slipped out the bathroom window and flew to the front of the building. Just then, the two agitators were physically thrown out of the building by several VFW members – they were older men, but more than a match for the two skinny protestors. The “vets” got up, dusted themselves off, and yelled profanities at the real veterans. Then they noticed the caped, masked woman wearing a snappy red, white, and blue frock.

One laughed and pointed at MM (BIG mistake), the other approached her aggressively (equally BIG mistake). Like a flash, MM kicked the near one solidly in the groin and he collapsed. The second one ran towards her only to find himself lifted and flying through air and into a contractor’s dumpster. MM picked up the one with testicular trauma and threw him into the same dumpster – both high-arcing rainbows at three-point range.

The VFW guys and part of the crowd who witnessed the events stood there with mouths open, they couldn’t believe what they’d witnessed - a flying masked woman with superhuman strength (and wearing a snappy red, white, and blue frock) kicking protestor butt.

An Olberman producer called Sarah about 1:30 to confirm the time of the interview and coordinate the location. Olbermann had agreed to be in Spleen, OH to conduct the interview live. He was not a happy man, he hated small towns populated with dumb hicks and this one appeared to be sub-par on the “ignerrunt” scale. Still smarting from his recent demotion, he was a major star and he didn’t like having terms of an interview dictated to him. She’d pay for that.

MSNBC secured a conference room at the Two Seasons Spleen hotel. Olbermann and his producer set up in a back corner, positioning lighting and camera in a most unflattering position for Governor Palin. The governor showed up with her secret service detail and her own camera crew. They were filming as she approached Olbermann and his producer. “What’s this?” Olbermann was angry. “You can’t record this, it’s a copyrighted product of MSNBC.”

Sarah was delighted at Olbermann’s anger; that was her intent. She intended to keep him off balance throughout the interview. She responded in a mock, sweet voice, Mr. Olbermann, if we don’t record, there won’t be any product.” Olbermann was livid, but had no choice but to accept the terms. He had called in favors and used all of his political leverage at the network to get this interview and he couldn’t just walk away from it. She had him by the jewels – round one, Palin.

Sarah immediately took the chair that was supposed to be Olbermanns. When he objected, she said that the secret service had specified that she sit there – so, Olbermann got the unflattering lighting – round two, Palin.

Olbermann went over the general format for the interview: a brief friendly exchange, a lead-in to questioning, ten or twelve topics and a closing statement. “May I see the topics,” asked Sarah. “Well, er, no – I want your answers to be spontaneous, off-the-cuff.” Again, Olbermann was getting angry – visibly angry. How dare she challenge his motives.

“Okay Keith, I can be spontaneous too, only you may not like my off-the-cuff replies.” Keith thought, what can she say that I can’t turn into a negative – she’s no match for me, no worries. “Okay Governor, let’s begin.”

“Rolling in three … two … one,” Keith introduced himself and Sarah, gave a brief background of Sarah’s path to the Vice Presidential nod, and started in. “Tell me Governor, why have your approval ratings fallen steadily over the last few months, are the citizens of Alaska dissatisfied?”

“Well Keith, I guess you could say that they’re like a woman scorned – like Di Arria, for instance. Di gave you very low scores in the romance department. Apparently she was like my constituency, unsatisfied.” Keith turned beet red and yelled “Stop tape!” “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sarah’s crew continued shooting.

“Ad libbing, being spontaneous, isn’t that what you wanted?” Sarah said sweetly. “I’ve got a lot more “spontaneous” material, Keith.” Sarah had looked into Olbermann and found him like a cesspool inside. The man lied, cheated, and stole everything and anything to get to the top and would do no less to stay there. He had practically no redeeming value, but he was fertile ground for Sarah to harvest a number of tidbits of information that Keith wouldn’t want known.

“Okay, you can see the questions.” Sarah looked them over. Every one was either a “gotcha,” or worded such that whatever her response, he could give it a negative spin. Sarah said, “these are unacceptable in their present form.” “You can ask a general question on these same topics and I’ll answer them truthfully, but … don’t try that “gotcha” thing on me again, do you understand?” “Yes, okay, let’s go on.”

They went on for another twenty minutes, with Keith asking general topic questions and Sarah providing clear, concise answers. Running out of opportunities to embarrass or humiliate the Governor, Keith took one last shot. “I’ve heard rumors Governor that you had an affair a couple of years ago, did Todd ever find out?” There it was, one of those “when did you stop beating your wife” questions. Neither a yes or no answer would refute the premise that she’d had an affair. But Sarah was not fooled, “There was no affair, I’ve never been unfaithful to my husband, Keith.” “Can you say the same?” “Does Bruce know about George or William?”

It took a moment for her statement to sink in, then Olbermann exploded, “You supercilious twit,” Olbermann looked ready to attack. Sarah’s secret service guys moved between Sarah and Keith, at the ready. Keith bit his tongue and backed off. “Okay Governor, you’ve had your fun. I’ll be sure to mention what a pleasure this has been on my next show.” Round three, Palin.

Sarah returned to her room and became Mighty Mom. She caught up with Olbermann as he was leaving the hotel. He never saw her coming, she dropped down behind him and with her right hand, grabbed his neck in a viselike grip – not hurting him, but holding him firmly. She removed all of his clothes and duct-taped him to a lamppost outside of the theater a half-block from the hotel. She intentionally left his “package” uncovered for the whole world to see (quite pitiful, by the way). The matinee crowd would be exiting shortly and they’d get quite an eyeful. She then duct-taped his mouth and painted bright red lips on the tape, and the word “pig” on his chest, fleshing out the “lipstick on a pig” image. She flew up and hung his boxers on the top of the lamppost. That should raise his stress level a few notches.

After a late flight to Cleveland on Tuesday, the group met for breakfast late Wednesday morning. John and Cary Okie had seen the video of the Olbermann interview and were elated with the way Sarah handled the blowhard (little did they know how much she really exposed him). She had earned her stripes from John and Cary with that interview.

They were due to go to the West Side Market for pierogies, a Polish stuffed dumpling that Cleveland is famous for. Then, John and Sarah would meet and greet folks – press the flesh, and mingle. It had been publicized that the candidates would be at the market at lunchtime and a large enthusiastic crowd was expected. A dozen secret service agents (and dogs) went in early and checked out the indoor market area.

Then, the unexpected happened. The McCain/Palin agents happened upon agents tasked with the protection of Joe Biden – apparently, they were both at the marketplace at the same time – how could this be? What the [bleep] happened? It wasn’t the end of the world, but it sure made for an uncomfortable situation. The McCain/Palin contingent outnumbered the Biden security team and had higher ranking subjects and therefore had command authority. The two AICs consulted and decided to query the subjects about what they wanted to do.

John McCain said that it wasn’t a big deal, even if they ran into each other, they could simply greet, exchange a few pleasantries, and move on. Biden said pretty much the same thing (only he used a few hundred selected words) – boiled down to: it shouldn’t be a problem.

So, the stage was set for the shootout at the West Side Market. [que the western harmonica music] And coincidently, it was almost HIGH NOON.

The McCain/Palin group arrived at the Pierogi Palace stand and ordered pierogis. With precious little place to sit down, they ate standing while the crowd watched. For some reason, people like to watch celebrities eat. Maybe they’re on the lookout for a little something stuck in teeth, or some sauce that dripped on a shirt or dress, or maybe juice running down a chin, etc. Maybe it just makes a celeb more human, who knows?

They ate quickly and started a walking tour of the market. They split with John and his group heading towards the left aisle and Sarah going to the right – they’d be separated by the booths in the middle.

Walking just a short distance, Sarah saw him before he saw her. It was Joe Biden. He was turned, talking to someone and when he turned back, he almost walked right into her. “Oh, Governor, good to see you.” He smiled and extended his hand. Sarah took it while looking into Joe’s innards. He wasn’t as bad as some – he was mostly just plain ordinary. He wasn’t smart enough to understand what was going on around him – why he didn’t win the Presidential nomination – why he was selected as a Vice Presidential candidate, why he was at the West Side Market. He was just plain clueless, like a toy train running without a track to guide it. She really didn’t want to engage in a conversation with him; he was known to be the filibuster talking champion of the Senate, it was said that he could talk for hours without actually saying anything.

Sarah was polite, “Hi, Senator – we heard that you were here.” “This place is big – lots of walking, how’re you holding up?” It was like Sarah flipped a switch. Without any warning, Joe started in:

“up and up and up and the future keeps hopping further and further away as you reach for your little froggy blah blah they jump away so you know ladies and gentlemen I believe in my shorts we cannot live as a chili dog stand for more of this flim flam yada yada we cannot win giving jelly to big oil and then french kiss a dung beatle while the hicks are scratching their behinds and hamsters are mating with their feet blah blah we can't afford four more innings of a butter knife that does nothing while they watch the scrabble and hominy markets collapse ... ”

Sarah thought she had better disengage, “Ah, Senator, I’m glad we had this opportunity …“ She didn’t even finish before the verbal diarrhea continued. Sarah wished she knew where the “off” switch was.

“You cant change paula abdul without talcum powder blah blah and these be his own words dog cat emu monkey in the pot roast as you swap underwear and make pink things fluffy yada yada yada and you closed your banjo but don’t cry when you can't give your auntie a hicky-foot blah blah so you chuckle and slap brie and smell polished dirt and we can't fart square checkers … “

Fortunately, the ads were being produced here in Cleveland and Mighty Mom knew where. She’d pay them a visit while Sarah was “resting” in her room.

It was the Cleveland facility of a Washington, DC company, Lying Eyes Ltd. Mighty Mom thought it and whoosh, she was there. Peeking through windows at the people working, she picked out a couple of guys who were looked to be in charge. She would “detain” them long enough to look inside and see what was planned. She’d be able to “see” the ad spots as they had seen them and then she’d know how to combat them.

Frank N. Sense left the building to pick up some supplies and MM caught him as he walked to his car. He never saw the flying masked woman (wearing a snappy red, white, and blue frock) slip up behind him and apply a Vulcan neck pinch to render him temporarily unconscious. She looked in and saw three ads, two in full detail and one that seemed to be unfinished – she hoped the other guy would have the missing parts of that third puzzle. She released the pinch and almost immediately, Frank began to recover. MM flew up into a nearby tree and waited.

The other guy came out shortly after Frank had come to his senses and driven off. This one was Terry Ahkey, the production manager for the Cleveland operation.

In a flash, Mighty Mom flew down and applied another neck pinch to Mr. Ahkey – down he went. “Yes, there it was, the completed third ad.” “Jeepers,” she thought (shades of Beaver Cleaver). “These are damming ads – they could cost us the election – even if they are lies.” She really needed to figure out how to stop them, if possible, or negate them if stopping them wasn’t possible. She let go of Mr. Ahkey and returned to the tree to think.

Lying Eyes planned to distribute the spots as attachments to e-mails. They’d send them to the ninety-eight stations in markets where they’d bought time. All three ads were scheduled to run tomorrow morning and would be sent out at 6 am in the morning. She would have to get access to the files on their computer.

The first one, called “Bad Man,” showed footage of John really raising hell with someone. He was obviously extremely irate and appeared to chase someone towards the camera. The voiceover was that of a small girl, in tears, asking her mom why the bad man had run the children away from the playground. The “mommy” said, “I don’t know, honey, he’s always mean to kids, he doesn’t like kids, he’s just a bad, bad man.” That fifteen-second spot sure showed John in an extremely bad light, it sure wouldn’t help his image especially since they’d tried to paint him as bad-tempered earlier in the campaign.

The second one was a 30-second spot titled “I don’t know” and looped a close-up of John saying “I don’t know” over and over to questions asked by an off camera voice – again, the voice of a child. The child asked “How are my mommy and daddy going to keep our house,” followed by John saying “I don’t know.” Then, “Why is my daddy going to lose his job.” “I don’t know.” That went on for a full thirty seconds with question after question being answered by “I don’t know.” It was made to suggest that John didn’t have any answers at all – about anything – “he knew notting.” Not good.

The third spot was called “I can see Russia,” and “starred” SARAH. Now they did it. Using a similar theme as the “I don’t know” ad, its subject was foreign policy and Sarah was shown to respond “I can see Russia” to every question. The voiceover was audio from Saturday Night Live using Tina Fey’s voice. “Grrrrr, The DNC would pay for that.”

Mighty Mom had to fly back to the hotel so Sarah could make an appearance. Sarah would “go to bed early” and Mighty Mom would return to Lying Eyes.

She hovered around the windows and found lights on in an office with one guy working at a computer. She waited … and waited … and waited.

Finally at 3 AM, the guy started to leave. He went out and turned to lock the door and promptly got a Vulcan neck pinch. She looked inside Phil and found that the ads were finished and ready for delivery. She gathered the information she needed to modify the ad files. His name was Phil Herupp and she got his login, passwords, file names, and generally how she could change the voiceovers and let Phil’s existing linkage handle the synchronization with the video.

She checked the door lock and found that she could get out without a key. She “collected” the security codes so she could set the alarm when she left. MM released the pinch and Phil started to come around. She quickly went inside and hid. Phil regained consciousness, tried to figure out what happened and gave up and checked the door – he hadn’t locked it. He set the alarm, locked the door and left.

Mighty Mom found the right pc and pulled up the first ad. She overwrote the voices with her own narrative. She told how John had chased a child molester away from a playground (that’s what really happened) after the pervert tried to abduct a little girl. MM was pretty pleased with her voiceover, it sounded sincere and professional. John had been a hero once again. She put that one to bed.

Next, she attacked the “I don’t know” spot. This one was more difficult because she needed more time than what was assigned for “I don’t know” to say what she needed to say. Then, a EUREKA moment: she searched the files for some Obama speech or ad. The spirits must be helping her ‘cause she found an Obama speech with a good close-up of his heavenly face and audio that included a statement by Obama saying “and ya know, all John McCain could say was “I don’t know.”

A search and replace took care of both the Obama close-up replacing the McCain one and a clip of Obama’s voice saying “I don’t know.” So, the original child’s voice remained but the visual was now Obama saying “I don’t know.” “The caped one” was satisfied that she’d successfully morphed a McCain-negative ad into an Obama-negative ad in one swell foop. Cha-ching!

The last one was personal. Sarah had been undergoing intensive education on foreign policy – daily classes with experts. She really knew the answers to the questions that were asked in the spot. The audio was easy to replace by inserting new copy and cutting the excess time from the end. But, the visual would have to be changed too.

She found some stock footage of Sarah, Todd and the kids at home in an informal setting and ran that behind the modified audio. The result showed Sarah with the family at ease, and at home. The original questions were answered in Sarah’s own voice with strong, knowledgeable responses.

To finish things up, she overwrote the original file names with the revised ads. The people working on the spots knew the file names and would attach those names to the e-mail distribution. So, when the ninety-eight e-mails were sent in the morning, they’d be distributing ninety-eight copies of the “new and improved” ad spots.

Mighty Mom felt good about what she’d accomplished that night. Now it was time for a flying masked woman with superhuman strength (and wearing a snappy red, white, and blue frock) to get a couple of hours of rest.

The spots were distributed, as expected. They ran, as expected. And the response was, as expected. The ads had run twice in all ninety-eight outlets, and a third time in twenty more before the DNC received the first call. The ad ran a third time in the remaining seventy-eight outlets before the DNC finally got to Terry at Lying Eyes.

Propriety prevents me from relating the joke that spawned the “fit hitting the shan” description, but suffice to say that several adjectives were accurate when describing the DNC’s reaction, to wit: angry, enraged, ferocious, furious, hostile, infuriated, irate, rabid, and my all-time favorite, pi$$ed.

Yet, all of that hostility seemed as insignificant as a fart in a hurricane when compared to Barack Hussein Obama’s reaction when he heard the news.

He flew into a biracial rage, cussing in tongues others couldn’t understand. He put his fist through the family room wall. He kicked his daughter’s tiny, fluffy bunny into a laundry hamper and threw her hamster into the fireplace. He banged his head against the fireplace stone until he bled. He beat his fists against a patio door until the glass broke. Then he kicked a hole in a pantry door. He screamed so loud (and in a pitch that only dogs could hear) the glass fronts on kitchen cabinets shattered. He was deconstructing his house until Michelle slapped him upside his head. And he collapsed, sobbing.

And the extent of the disaster was just beginning to register.

What happened was: a fifteen-second spot and two thirty-second spots ran a total of 294 times in the space of two hours. So, instead of 294 spots negative to McCain, Mighty Mom had caused 294 spots positive for McCain to run – a net change of 588 opportunities to change a voter’s mind – towards a McCain/Palin vote.

A quick investigation found the modified ads under the proper file names on Lying Eyes’ computer. So it was easy to explain what happened from there on – but the puzzlement was: how the hell did someone change the finished spots?

There was no evidence of break-in, the doors were locked and the security system was on when Terry Ahkey arrived at 5:30. No fingerprints were found (Mighty Mom wears snappy red gloves) and no witnesses saw anything – at least, no credible witnesses.

Er, … except for that old wino dude who said, “I seen er, I seen a masked woman wearing a snappy red, white, and blue frock … flying.”

Although she enjoyed a brief honeymoon after her selection, the MSM (Main Stream Media) started bashing Sarah in earnest by mid September. Obama’s opposition research joined forces with the leftist 527s and the Obama-loving media to dig up dirt on the Governor. And dig they did. They left no moose-dropping unturned to find anything of a negative nature about Sarah. And when they were unable to find any turdlings of substance, they made some up.

Accusation: Sarah talks to “moosees”.

Accusation: A mother of five has no business in any public office, much less Vice President of the United States. She has no experience in the disciplines necessary for the job.

Accusation: On their second date, Todd told Sarah “gas, a$$, or grass,” while some twelve miles north of Wasilla on his snow machine.

Accusation: At Wasilla city council meetings (held on the stage of Wasilla High School), a mini-skirted Sarah was seen to cross and uncross her legs, giving the audience members views similar to Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct. City council meetings always drew standing room-only crowds and it was rumored that scalpers sold reserved front-row seats for $125.00 and up.

Accusation: Governor Palin has been accused of shooting cuddly little cotton-tailed snow bunnies from a C-130 gunship armed with 40mm and 105mm cannons.

Accusation: The governor was a member of a far right-wing survivalist group (the Ku Clucks Fan) who, when they practiced shooting, used targets made to look like African-Americans or Jews.

Accusation: As Mayor, Sarah Palin wanted to ban certain books from the shelves of the Wasilla library.

Accusation: As governor, Mrs. Palin requested hundreds of earmarks.

Accusation: Governor Palin was reported to have demeaned community organizers by saying that they had no responsibility for anything, contributed nothing to their communities, and usually left their neighborhoods worse than when they found them.

Accusation: Governor Palin originally backed the infamous “Bridge to Nowhere,” but later opposed it.

Accusation: Sarah Palin has no foreign relations experience.

Accusation: She smoked marijuana.

Accusation: One of Governor Palin’s spiritual advisors is said to have been Rev. Thomas Muthee, a strange cultist “witch doctor” from Kenya who helped her win the governorship through witchery.

Accusation: Governor Palin is accused of cross-dressing a moose.

There was more, but Sarah thought that those two conversations packed enough dynamite for now and could be put to good use. In the meantime, the staff would continue to examine every session’s taped records for any more Obama slip-ups.