I was enjoying my usual decaf extra-foam double latte this morning when a quote in the New York Times caught my eye. It was deep down in a story about you and motherhood.
After months of reflection and prayer, friends say, the Palins, who are Christians, had come to believe God had sent them Trig.
Later that day, Ms. Palin sent an e-mail message to her relatives and close friends about her new son, Ms. Bruce said. She signed it, "Trig's Creator, Your Heavenly Father."
Listen, Sarah, honey. Did I complain when you claimed the war in Iraq was "God's plan," even though I knew all along -- thanks to my omniscient all-knowingness! -- that there were no weapons of mass destruction there?
Did I send down thunderbolts on your head when you announced in church that I supported building a gas pipe right through Alaska, my most beautiful state? You may think it was easy to create that gorgeous wilderness, sweetie, but it's a lot harder than it looks. Don't be fooled by that seven-days creation thing. I am all-powerful, after all! If it had been easy, I'd have done it in an afternoon, then gone out for sushi and chardonnay, like I normally do on Monday nights.
But this time, Sarah, you've gone too far. Writing an email and signing my name to it? Do you really think I'm looking for a ghostwriter? Look at what happened the last time around, when I thought I was dictating a simple, clear-cut plan for spiritual living, and instead those darn scribes screwed it all up, writing that self-contradicting mess called the Bible. I'm still trying to straighten all that out.
Speaking of which, quit trying to straighten out the gays! Like we need more heterosexual guys wandering around the planet, knocking up 17-year-old girls. Oh, whoops. No offense!
Anyway, no more sending out emails in my name, okay? Didn't you stop to think that, if I had actually sent out that birth announcement, I would have gone to the trouble of using nice stationery? I'm God, after all! Not to be obnoxious, but I can afford it, okay?
Oh, and by the way. Yes, I did send Trig to you. Not on purpose, but because that was the number the celestial lottery turned up. So, yeah, you can claim that special bond between us if you'd like. Just like that special bond you have with the clerk at the 7-11 when your scratch card turns up a win.
And listen, I've got one more bone to pick with you: "Trig"? Really? This is the name you choose for a gift from God? Suppose the New Testament had begun with Matthew, Mark, Luke and... Trig? Let us now turn to the book of Trig! Maybe we'll read something big! Like a parable about a pig! Come on, Sarah. Show some judgment here.
All right, that's it for now. But I'm sure this won't be the last time we're in touch before the election. I fully expect you'll be praying like crazy for help just before your debate with Joltin' Joe Biden on October 2. Just remember: God helps those who help themselves! Ha! That line cracks me up every time. If you're helping yourself, what do you need with me, anyway? And then I can play a couple more rounds of golf or go windsurfing, as I like to do on Thursdays.
Good luck, Sarah. Oh, and lay off the polar bears, okay?
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