Dear Sarah, Nobody Cares.

Shhhhhh.

Dear Mrs. Palin,

The only reason anyone originally gave a shit about you is because you are a MILF from Alaska. We hadn’t seen that porn scenario yet. Then you started talking. Now, nobody cares. But you’re still talking. Please stop.

The end.

Ok, that was my letter but seriously, WTF is this:

“By the way, Hollywood needs to know: We eat, therefore we hunt.”

This was in response to an Ashley Judd commercial that had a wee problem with hunting wolves with assault rifles from helicopters. I knew Alaska was bum fuck but I didn’t know they ate wolves. I don’t think Cro-Magnon men ate wolves. It was too uncivilized for them.

“Some still are choosing not to hear why I’m charting a new course to advance this state,” she said, adding that “it should be so obvious to you. It is because I love Alaska this much, sir, that I feel that it is my duty to avoid the unproductive, typical, politics-as-usual, lame-duck session in one’s last year in office.”

So, you’re quitting. I should use the Palin Theory in bed. “Listen, the reason why I feel the need to run out of here 3 seconds after cumming is because I love you so much, sweety, that I feel that it is my duty to avoid the unproductive, typical, boredom-as-usual, lame-ass Talk & Cuddle session in one’s last minutes awake.”

Before addressing the crowd in a park with an ersatz frontier main street and encircled by a choo-choo train that was once called “Alaskaland,” Palin spent hours under a tent serving hot dogs and greeting admirers.

This sounds like a Tim Burton movie. What the hell exactly goes on in Alaska?

Two Texans holding up pro-Palin signs said they drove on Harley-Davidsons some 4,000 miles north from the Ft. Worth area to check out Alaska and see the woman they want to be the next president.

[(2Fort Worth + Harleys)4000] x Sarah Palin 4 President = Hilarity.

(FYI, Sarah if you’re reading this, don’t let my teasing let you think that I wouldn’t love banging you. That is so not the case. Just wanted to be sure I’m clear. We could always do it when your husband was out snowmobiling for caribou carcasses that he mowed down with a gatling gun. K, thanks.)