"The America I know and love is not one in which my parents or my baby with Down Syndrome will have to stand in front of Obama's "death panel" so his bureaucrats can decide, based on a subjective judgment of their "level of productivity in society," whether they are worthy of health care. Such a system is downright evil."
"Sarah" continued.
"In the real America you and I know and love, liberals, Muslins, atheists, and Satanists will be put in concentration camps until they swear off their false religions and declare allegiance to my God and my Church."
She paused for effect.
"That's our God and our Church."
She spit the words out of her mouth. The crowd cheered and waved their pitchforks over their head. Someone in the crowd, accidentally wounded by the pitchfork of his neighbor, dropped to the pavement, bleeding. No one noticed.
"Real Americans will have the right to decide who is not a real American and deal with those who are not. Real Americans should not have to put up with a Muslin in the White House. It is elitist for people who know how to read and write and have gotten a "liberal" education to think that they know more than real Americans!"
Spittle ran down her chin. She yanked the blanket from the baby and dabbed her face, careful not to smear her MAC purple Style Warrior lipstick. "In the Real America, we will follow the lead of that brave patriot, Michele Bachmann, and investigate Congress to find out once and for all who is American and who is un-American."
"In the Real America, criticizing me will be a capital offense. We will find out who you are and we will disappear you."
Her followers waved their pitchforks and made grunting noises.
"In the Real America, only real Americans and real Christians will be permitted to hold office. Follow me!"
She hoisted the crying baby over her head and balanced it there with one hand. Grabbing a flaming torch she pointed it in front of her, singing the words to her anthem, Tomorrow belongs to me.
The crowd followed.