It wasn’t her fault. Or my fault. Well, okay...it was her fault. But it really was circumstances, y’know?
We had different friends and different opinions about, well, everything. Hell, we had different vocabularies.
Still, it was a relationship. For a brief time the candle burned hot. She could say anything, y’know? Just say anything and wink, or tack a ‘You Betcha’ onto the end of it... And I always did the same thing: Slap my forehead and, in the way Jackie Gleason would growl, "Right to the MOON," I would exclaim, "How can one person be so infuriatingly STUPID?"
She’s gone, now. The election result was the last straw - the straw that broke the caribou’s back.
She packed up her 150 thousand dollar wardrobe, hopped a plane with the first dude that came along and went back to Alaska. I heard some RNC lawyers have gone to take the clothes away from her and the dude. Good. Fuck you, you stupid, vacant, vicious, ridiculous, semi-literate bitch! That’s what you get for walking out on me.
Don’t misunderstand. I see other people. Wolf Blitzer and the gang down at CNN Asia, Ann Coulter (although no one has seen her lately), a couple of commenters on me wee blog, drivers around the roads of Taiwan...had a lovely encounter with the folks at the Pizza Hut...point is, I have lots of other ways to mutter, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
But Sarah...oh, Sarah was special. I’ve seen vicious liars. I’ve hung out with people who might well stab you, push came to shove. But from the best to the worst, I’d never seen prevarication, viciousness, incompetence, stupidity, ignorance and delusion so twisted up with a freakish, Machiavellian sense of entitlement. Not like that. It was some kind of perfect bitter candy. Political seaweed. "That tastes awful! Gimme some more."
And now she’s gone. Just...gone.
I click and click, rubbing my little mouse over links galore. Mostly anonymous losers talking about my Sarah. OF SARAH, only fleeting sound bites. I treasure those. Those are the sweetest bites.
Please come back, Sarah.
My schadenfreude. It aches for you.