John Crace reduces the trigger-happy former Alaskan governor's Christmas musings to a rootin'-tootin' 600 words
I've never had to imagine a White Christmas. Living in Alaska, just 300 miles from the north pole where Santa Claus lives, I experience the True Meaning of Christmas every year. But too many of my fellow Americans have had their heads turned away from the Path by the Forces of Satanic Political Correctness.
Let me tell you about my Perfect Christmas. Christmas is a time for giving and being with the Family. So every Christmas Eve, Todd and I fly our helicopter low over the forests outside our home in Wasilla and mow down five grizzlies with a machine gun. As my Papa always said: "A family that sprays together, stays together." We then skin the critters to make stockings for the kids. There's nothing like seeing the joy in Track, Bristol and Trig's faces as they open their collection of knives and semi-automatic weapons.
For many Americans, Christmas is a time of Darkness when they are prevented from remembering that Jesus was an American. Since when has it been a crime to watch Mary and Joseph's favourite movie, Miracle on 34th Street? Since the Commy sonsofbitches took over Christmas and made us all say happy holidays, that's when. Well, yippee ki-yay, motherfuckers. Here's one broad with a great rack – as Todd always says – that's started the fight back.
Imagine state trooper Joe McScrooge patrolling the neighbourhood looking to stamp out any nativity scenes that might give offence to our Muslim and Afro-Caribbean brethren. What are we going to do to Joe McScrooge? We're going to crucify him. It's time to remind everyone that Charles Darwin was wrong, and it was God who made America 6,000 years ago. If we want the civilised society that God and his only son, George W Bush, have promised us, we've got to be prepared to gun down anyone in our way.
Sometimes we don't get everything we want. My brother wasn't best pleased when I gave him $70 of cleaning products to sterilise his frat house when we were younger, and I was disappointed when my parents gave me a dictionary. But God has a way of always giving us what we need. I use it as a club to finish off roadkill. And the rest of America needs to stop kowtowing to the Jews and the Mozzers. How come they are allowed to celebrate Hanukkah and Eid while we Christians aren't allowed to ride on Santa's sleigh? Everywhere we look, faith is being stigmatised. Just think how the Angel Gabriel would feel if he had to sing I'm Dreaming of a White Holiday.
God tests us all at times. One Christmas Eve, Bristol told me she was pregnant. "When are you getting married then?" I screamed. This was wrong of me. As Bristol pointed out to me, her boyfriend had come to her one night in a dream as God had come to Mary. That's why I've always been pro-life. If Joseph had forced Mary to have an abortion, then Jesus would never have been born and God would never have made America.
I try to live my life by the 10 commandments. These are the basic rules for every American. After all, if God had been French, then the 10 commandments would have been written in French, and Jesus would have been born in Paris, Texas. It's not been easy for any of us to do the right thing since founding father John Adams partook of the apple in the Garden of Eden, but I do know in my heart of hearts that God wants us all to have a good Christmas.
Three years ago, my father was taken ill on Christmas Day. We all thought he might not survive the night. But then, dang it, the doctor said he only had a small bit of food poisoning and why were we wasting his time. Truly God loves those who love him best. Merry Christmas, my fellow Americans.
Digested read, digested: Sarah's Christmas turkey
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