(Via Ed Driscoll) Yes. This is precisely how it comes across.
Oh hi there! I was out shooting caribou on the Arctic Cat and saw your synapse lights on, and so I said to myself, “now, gosh darn it, Sarah, you’ve been living inside this nice person’s cerebral cortex for, what is it, almost two years now? By golly, it’s about time you dropped in at their frontal lobe with a plate of your famous homemade Alaska welcome wagon cookies and introduced yourself.” So anyhoo, I sure hope you like ’em. Don’t want to give out a family recipe, but the secret ingredient is baby seal. I clubbed ’em fresh this morning!
Oh my goodness… you look kind of confused. I get that a lot! You were probably thinking, “hey, I only wanted to move next door to Sarah Palin — now what in the goshdarned heck is she doing inside my brain?” Well ya see, the deal is I’m not Sarah, but boy I gotta tell ya, we sure do get mistaken all the time! No, I’m just a plain ol’ homunculus Sarah Palin that your own id created to sublimate your deep-seated psychosexual neuroses. Or so those egghead books say, anyway. But if you ask me that sure sounds like a lot of elite Anti-America liberal professor gobbledegook! By the way, your id says hi.
As usual, the problem with excerpting Iowahawk is figuring out where to cut, so read the whole thing. I got nothing that can top it, anyway. Continue reading ‘Sarah, John! Sarah… from the *ID*!’*
