First let me say, I am so sorry about the last 8 years. I know what I did was wrong, but it really wasn’t me. I was drunk. On power. I swear Baby, it wasn’t my fault, I was really stressed at work. The War in Iraq is still going on. The investigations by those nosy bastards in Congress. The money problems have put me deep in debt. I didn’t mean to make things so bad. It was an accident.
But I swear it won’t happen again. I’ve changed Baby, really I have. You know I love you, America. It’s because I love you too much that things like the last 8 years happen. Sometimes I care…too…damn…much.
Look, Baby! I got you a little something. It’s a brand new Palin. See, I’ve changed. I’ve got new stuff for you. Everything will be different now. I’ve quit all the bad stuff, and I won’t let work get to me so much. I know we’ve run up the debt, spent all of our money, started an unnecessary war in Iraq, rolled back environmental protections. But I’m different now. Plus, it’s partly your fault to. You’re the one who let me get away with it for so long. Don’t be angry now.
Baby, don’t walk away from all the good times we had. Remember Reagan? Those were some great times weren’t they. Yeah, Baby, I loved those times too. We can get back to them soon. I promise.
Baby, don’t leave me. Here’s your brand, spankin’ new Palin. Everything’s going to be different now, I swear. Please America, take me back.
I like your policies, charisma, eloquence and determination to put our country back on the right course and recapture the sense of trust and admiration other decent nations instilled in us in the past.
But all that pales against the promise of make-up sex with Sarah Palin.
I’m sorry but my therapist calls this “Battered Wife Syndrome”. SO I am unable to trust you, but I still love you - as a person. But I cannot be with you anymore. Gifts like a ‘Brand New Palin’ only work in the short run. Sorry,I need better judgement than that…Plus, my mother always said you’d hurt me, and that I should leave you. I’m going to live with her now until I get back on my feet, at very least, I’ll have a new Obama to keep me company.
Aww, Baby. Don’t be like that. Who are you going to trust, some elitist East Coast therapist or me? You love me, baby. And I love you. So much.
Sure I made some minor mistakes, but it’s all different now. I got a new war hero for you. You LOVE war heros. And he’s going to change things in Washington NOW. Sure he’s been there and, in his words, let it change him, but c’mon baby, everyone makes mistakes. It’ll be different now. No more divisiveness, we’re all one now baby. I was just really stressed there. It wasn’t my fault.
C’mon baby. I know you’re angry at me. And, well, I’m a bit angry too. If your friends would just keep their mouths shut and let me do my job, I never would have had to get so stressed about everything. Sure there were some mistakes, and I accept that. But it’s a new day, baby. I’m going to change things now. It’ll be like the good old days, I promise. Just don’t be too angry at me. I’m different now.
The first fuckable VP nominee has to be worth something. She ought to wear a cheerleaders outfit to her speeches. I would watch. They are covering her up to the neck at the convention. Too bad.
Look, it can never work between us. We’re just too different - you’re a right-wing American political party, and I’m not in your electorate. Besides, even if I was, I just don’t swing vote that way.
Are you gonna stop spying on me and following me around? Mama says you’re you’re crazy. She says you’re gonna kill me. I say “no, mama, he loves me,” but she don’t believe it. I don’t know what to think.
This is hard for me, too. A little part of me died the first time I sent money to the Obama campaign.
I stuck up for you for a long time, longer than I should have. I still think the Clinton impeachment was about perjury, not fellatio. I supported you in 2000. I’m old enough to remember your speech at the Brandenburg Gate, and it still sends chills down my spine.
But I can’t keep apologizing for you. I just can’t. Everything I used to love about you, you’ve abandoned. Fiscal responsibility, personal freedom, sound foreign policy – what happened? I knew about your drama with Big Religion, but it never used to be this bad. If I don’t leave you, I’ll never respect myself.
Part of me will always love you. I shouldn’t say this, but maybe – maybe, if you get your shit together – one day we can …
But don’t get your hopes up. It has to be sincere. This Palin thing – it’s like you’re not even trying anymore. You need to feel some pain too, before I’ll believe it. Pick a pro-choice running mate. Nominate a moderate who stays moderate even during the primaries. Lose a few states in the Bible Belt. I don’t think you’re willing to do that. I know I can’t take your word for it anymore.
Don’t talk to me about the Reagan years! I remember what you were like then, too. I never knew what foolishness you’d be up to back then either.
For a brief moment in time, I thought we’d be able to get together. You promised fiscal responsibility; and I loves me some fiscal responsibility. States’ rights? Yeah, baby, that’s the kind of talk that turns me on.
But then, with all your talk not being the ‘nanny’ state, you go and get all up in my social business! You fuck around on me, lie to me about it, start dating around, and are basically a big slut who can’t make up your mind about who you want to be with. Then get all upset if I want to go Bob and Fred’s wedding! Double standards kill the mood, babe.
I guess I’ll just have to stay independent and go with whoever gives me the wettest panties at the time. And don’t think offering me a Palin is going to do it for me…I don’t swing that far that way.
How can I go with a guy who thinks the Rapture is a bit crazy? Land o’ Goshen, honey, it’s coming and probably sooner than later. Will go you to church with me? Will you listen to the pastor about Israel and will you take Jesus truly into your heart, you old fornicator, you? I need a clean, shriven guy who’ll fly right and straight and good. You wanna give my all these things, but honey, I have some fear in my heart for you. You’re not saved, sweetie. How can you rule, oops, I mean govern, without being saved? Come on to church with me and then we’ll see.
Hey, that reminds me. Remember when it was the Straight Talk Express? Remember when you encouraged journalists to ask any question? That was a wild ride, sweetie, but I liked it. <blushes>