Wow I had the worst dream last night! I dreamed that the day after her son Track was arrested for drunkenly assaulting his girlfriend and waving a rifle around, revenant trashbeast Sarah Palin showed up at a rally in Iowa to endorse Donald Trump with a speech that sounded like her 2008 stump speech duct-taped to Trump’s 2016 stump speech and then run through the wood chipper at the end of “Fargo.” What a weird thing to…
An icy breeze begins to ruffle trash on the deserted street. Suddenly a gust picks up one sheet of newsprint and plasters it over my face. I claw it off and glance down at what proves to be a page of yesterday’s Slate: “Hot Mess Endorses Dumpster Fire!” blares the hed. CAMERA TAKE:
It can’t be! That was only a d–
The rising wind flings more loose sheets at me: The New York Times, “Sarah Palin Endorses Donald Trump, Which Could Bolster Him in Iowa;” The Daily Beast, “Sarah Palin Backs Donald Trump, Murders Irony;” Buzzfeed, “So, Uh, Here’s The Full Text Of Sarah Palin’s Bizarre Trump Speech;” Quartz, “’Right wingin’/ bitter clingin’ / proud clingers’—Sarah Palin’s amazing Trump endorsement poetry;” The NYT again, “The Most Mystifying Lines of Sarah Palin’s Endorsement Speech.” I’m staggering now, nearly enshrouded.
Takes come flying in from the left: “Sarah Palin cost John McCain 2 million votes in 2008,” “The saddest part of Palin’s bonkers speech,” “The 2016 GOP is the Party of Palin,” “How Drunk Was Sarah Palin?,” “The Inevitability of Palin’s Endorsement of Trump…”
I’m flat on the ground, completely buried, I can barely breathe. But I still try to open my mouth to make a wry, yet knowing, referential joke, to let you know that we will both survive this. Something like “Calgon, take me away!” perhaps, or “Where’s the beef?”
But as my lips part, the heaps of newsprint melt and flow together, forming dozens of pale, waxy homunculi. They slip tiny, greasy fingers between my lips, clawing my mouth open wider and pulling themselves in. I try to bite down, but my teeth crumble. The figures are clawing their way over my tongue and down my throat, making indistinct noises that are further muffled by my gagging and retching but sound vaguely like “MYAVRICK… MYAVRICK…” I try to pull them out but my hands only slip and smear the thick, viscous black fluid that is now pouring from my eyes and nose, forming an oily pool that already has me almost submerged, and then just before it closes over my face, an enormous Sarah Palin looms over me, grinning maniacally and winking with what appear to be dozens of eyes. In three of her hands are giant power drills, and she lowers them toward me, screaming DRILL BABY DRILL BABY DRILL BABY DRILL BABY and–
I wake up, heart pounding, gasping for air, my hands flailing at the monstrous Palin I can still half-see above me.
Ohjesusohjesusohjesus was it… was it all a dream? It was! I’m alive! It wasn’t real, it was all a–