VOTE FOR ME!

     I’m getting whiplash from keeping up with McCain’s changing messages.  I can’t tell if I’m watching the evening news, an unreality show or Saturday Night Live. Will the real Sarah Palin please stand up?

 

     With the Dow sliding into oblivion, Congress—on both sides of the aisle—scurrying to cover their collective asses, and my so-called retirement swirling down the toilet, I can’t stand idly by.  I know it’s a little late in the game. Call me a late bloomer. But I’ve decided to throw my baseball cap into the ring. I looked into my own soul and know this is the right thing to do.

 

     Stop laughing. And don’t call the men in the white coats. Not yet.

 

     With your support, on November 4 I will run as a write-in—for President and Vice President. Before writing me off, please take a moment to assess my bona fides.

 

Here are my qualifications:

 

            I was the youngest in my kindergarten class and had the longest hair.

 

            In 5^th grade I washed my teacher’s buttermilk glass daily.

 

            In junior high I got an A on a typing test.

 

            In high school my cigarette breaks went undetected.

 

            Freshman year at Syracuse University I took part in a panty raid.

 

            Without a single gaffe, I spoke my wedding vows (in Hebrew yet).

 

            I cared for one husband, two children and assorted pets while having a real job.

 

            I edited my kids’ high school newsletter.

 

            I served on the board of a local ballet school that went under.

 

            My brownies are the best.

 

            My grandchildren laugh at my jokes.

 

            Ah, but what about my experience in foreign affairs?

 

        I’m glad you asked! From my roof, I can glimpse the Chesapeake Bay which connects with the Atlantic Ocean, across which lies Europe, Mesopotamia, and, a few kilometers (or is it kilos?) further, the Orient and South Pacific (great show!). Within this six-block area resides every axis of evil you can possibly conjure. I will blot out anyone and anything that impedes my march to Washington or threatens the best interests of this wonderful country even though I was born in Newark, New Jersey, wore my cousin’s hand-me-downs, did not go to Cannes as a graduation gift and don’t know a drachma from a shekel.

 

     My platform is simple: I will grant you every wish your heart desires. And you don’t need to click your heels three times. Just tell me what you want and I’ll get back to ya’.

 

      Isn’t it time for some experienced Loose Change? Vote for me. Nana Beth.