Monday, October 20, 2008

A Poem for Palin

Ladies love many things in this world – chocolate, babies, puppies, and diamonds come to mind immediately.

But perhaps more than anything else, ladies love poetry. And recognizing this indisputable fact, I decided to write a poem for Alaska Governor Sarah Palin - as the McCain-Palin team hurtles towards irrelevance. I figured she may need something to cheer her up in the weeks and months ahead, especially during those long Alaskan winters.

Sarah's Smile:

Oh Sarah, your smile shines so bright like the snow.
Track, Trig, Bristol, Piper, and Willow.
Those are your kids’ names, a sense of humor you have.
During research for this poem, I learned a baby moose is a calf.

Evolution is bad, but abortions are worse.
I think you once said that Russia’s a curse.
You’re referring to Putin, and not Russia itself.
Please tell John McCain, “Leave those nukes on the shelf.”

This point though is moot, you two likely will lose.
Recent polls show 80% of Americans love your shoes.
That’s a really great thing, you should be very proud.
Nice shoes, pretty hair, and folksy words draw a crowd.

But it’s time to look forward to twenty-sixteen.
In the meantime stay friendly, not crotchety and mean.
Like McCain that old hero, gunning for President for years.
I can see why he’s mad, he should drink many beers.

And whiskey as well, to drown out the sorrow.
For your votes he will steal, lie, beg or borrow.
So will that other guy, Barack something or other.
John McCain still has to report to his mother.

She’s a hundred and ten, or something crazy like that.
The oldest known lady to wear a Budweiser hat.
Given to her by Cindy, who’s the calmest of calm.
I’ve never seen her blink, and I’ve never seen her Mom.

But who cares about that, Sarah? ‘Cause this poem’s all for you.
And sweet Todd’s in the kitchen, preparing moose stew.
So even if you lose, you’ll still be fed and full.
Doggone it, shucks, Joe Six-pack, wolf hunting and home school.

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