Monthly Archives: June 2011

Still life with bumpit

I’ve been quite busy, as I usually am this time of year, so I haven’t been able to keep up on my plastic mockery. I’m currently working on a prop-heavy set, which slows me down. I’m also leaving town for a few days tomorrow. I apologize for my slowness. I promise to have a couple of stories soon. In the meantime, here is my version of PlasticLand art, a flying monkey checking out the bumpit I made Sarah out of styrofoam and electrical tape.


BristleTour: Barefoot and preggers in America’s heartland

Bristle kicks off her two-stop book tour at the Mall of America, AKA tomato central, in the great heartland of rill America. There she meets her most ardent fans, who traveled many minutes and stood in short lines so that they could get a signed copy of their role model’s memoirs.

To avoid the kind of attempted tomatoing that Bristle’s mom got at this mall, the book signing is being held in the back of the bookstore (too bad!) and patrons are being searched for squishy objects (I heard that the tomatoes that guy threw at Sarah were  hard. He apparently didn’t quite get the concept of tomato-throwing, and he was a lousy aim).

They aren’t exactly expecting a giant crowd for Bristle’s book signing. Luckily, some of the nuttier fans who came to mom’s signings (like that lady wearing the godawful t-shirt with Sarah’s giant face plastered on it) have apparently decided that they own enough Palin books.

Bristle arrives at the mall.

This is where rill Americans do their book shopping.

Hi everybody! It’s me, Bristle!

I’m famous!

I can dance!

Queen of the Mall!

Bristle’s fans eagerly await their signed copy of her book.

Bristle, Bristle! We want to be like you!

Girls, um, it’s not easy being me. I’ve had it rill hard.

Bristle, if it’s a girl I’m naming her after you!

Bristle, my baby-daddy won’t pose for pictures. What should I do?

Um, girls, those baby-daddies are such ass…um…gnats. Get your mom to threaten them.

Bristle, Bristle! Is it better to get married or stay a single teen mom?

(yikes! Who is that in line?)

Um…well…both is better, as long as somebody pays you. Just cancel stuff after you cash the check. My mom does it all the time.

Yup…um…girls, abstinence pays, um…as long as you do it after the baby. Um…at least while people are looking.

I’d better get to signing these books. Security must have the rest of my fans waiting somewhere else in the store.

Plastic Mayhem: Revenge of the emails

I haven’t done a plastic mayhem episode in quite some time. I believe we are much overdue for one. This one comes to you in the spirit of Brazil.  I always thought that Robert DeNiro didn’t deserve his fate, but I can think of somebody else who more than deserves a similar fate.

It was early evening in Scottsdale. The sun was finally low in the sky. Sarah, alone in the Arizona house since she sent Piper packing, had just settled in with her favorite bathrobe, her crunchwrap supreme, and a couple of diet Dr. Peppers.

Sarah needed to console herself, because it was email dump day.

More Dr. Pepper.

Sarah knew that there was nothing much left in those emails after her minions spent two and a half years removing anything that might seriously taint her image.

But she also knew that people were still laughing at her about Paul Revere, and they were picking apart the emails and calling her a petty bitch.

Crunch crunch. slurp slurp.

I’ll show this whole flippin’ lamestream country that I’m better than they are.

What’s that noise?

Flutter flutter, crackle, knock knock.

Hmmm….I can’t imagine that my security guards would let anybody through the gate without letting me know.

I pay those flippin’ guards more than they are worth.

Flutter flutter, crackle, knock knock.

Sarah put down her crunchwrap and decided to go check the door.

I need a butler.

It better not be those Mormons or I’m firing those flippin’ guards.

I swear this stupid state has more flippin’ Mormans than Idaho did, there, when I was there.

Sarah reached the door and peered through the spyhole, but nothing was there. She opened the door.

Bloody flippin’ hell! What is it?

Sarah backed up in panic as a strange sight greeted her eyes.

Security! Security! Where are those flippin’ guards??!!

Aaaackkk!  Go away go away!!

In whirled a cyclone of paper, a veritable vortex of spinning sheets.

They swirled around Sarah, fluttering and flapping, slapping at her face.

Help me, help me!

The papers spun furiously, knocking Sarah to the floor. As she was pummeled, she could see that they were emails, her emails, covered with sharpie marks.

Faster and faster they flung themselves at Sarah, slapping her face harder and harder, trying to get up her nose.

Sarah could feel tiny paper cuts on her legs as she flailed to keep the papers out of her mouth.

Flippin’ help me!

The emails swoooped and dove, battering Sarah from all sides.


Down she went amid the flappings of thousands of sheets of emails.

The emails plastered themselves onto Sarah. A crunchwrap supreme landed on her face.

More and more, faster and faster, they piled on.

Sarah couldn’t breath. She had paper in her nose and mouth.

She struggled to free herself from the ever-building mountain of paper.

Flutter, swoop, crackle!


No help for Sarah as the emails swirled in for the kill.

The sun continued to set.

With a last flip flap, the mountain of emails settled on Sarah.

Quiet descended upon the house.

The emails let out a gentle sigh.

And the cosmos rejoiced. Much rejoicing.

On the Record with Greta

Once again, Sarah goes to her semi-favorite Fox News pundit to spew about how mean everybody has been to her. Greta was slightly mean to her last time too, but Sarah will let that slide (for the moment, warming up the bus), because Sean The Adoring is busy, and Sarah needs to spew.

Governor! Great to see you. How was the One Nation Tour?

Well, Greta, also, good to see you too, because, after all, those bus tours that we do, makin’ America great, by showin’ our good Americans what they don’t know about our great history, bless their hearts. We had a great time, thanks for askin’ bless your heart, and Piper, bless her little bratty heart, she was out there, learnin’ and blockin’.

Governor Palin, I know there was some controversy about your Paul Revere history…

Well, Greta, being as those lamestream media folks are out there, with their gotcha questions and chasin’ our bus, well, we tried to tell ’em, those lamestream media people, about how Paul Revere was the first Tea Party guy, ringin’ those bells and lettin’ folks know that, out there in our great country, before it was a country, we were hangin’ onto our guns, like good, no great, Americans, before we were Americans, that, well, we were hangin’ onto those guns. And Paul Revere….I know my American history…well, Paul Revere, he went from town to town, ringin’ and blammin’, tellin’ those British that we Americans weren’t gonna give up those guns, there…Well, that lamestream media, they are just lookin’ for those soundbites, those gotchas…and, well, we know our history.

Yes, um, well, Governor, the big news this week is that your state of Alaska is finally releasing some emails that were requested back when you were running for vice president.

Greta, those emails were all written by a disloyal former employee who had a tire tread tattoo…We all know about those tattoo types. Disgruntled and disloyal, just tattooing all over the place. But my administration was all about transparency. Those emails, bless their little lyin’ hearts, they just show how I was workin’ to progress the great state of Arizona…um, I mean Alaska, uh, and those, there, also, they are lies, which, there, when I wrote them…I mean, when that disloyal employee wrote them, they are all about the opposition operatives who took over the great state of Alaska, there.

Well, Governor, there appear to be quite a few emails that you supposedly sent, some of which show that, among other things, you had other people write glowing letters to the local newspapers, about you.

Well, Greta, that disloyal employee, who we all know needs more tire treads, well he was probably the one who wrote all those letters, there, also, because he thought I was hot, but also because, also, I was the energy expert who needed, out there, in the rest of America, to be shown to be, there, the expert, me, and he tried to say that, but those lamestream media people, who he talked to, said he said that he said that. well. also.

Governor, it looks like several websites will be going through those emails this week. What is your take on that?

Greta, I’m just wonderin’ and fumin’ about why Obama having lunch with Margaret Thatcher isn’t in the news. He’s just elbowin’ his way in, knowin’ that I’ve been needin’ to talk to that lady, but he’s just elbowin’ all around, there, and also, Michelle, with her carrot sticks, feedin’ em to the Iron Lady.

Well, Governor, I’m rooting for you to get an audience with Prime Minister Thatcher.

Greta, I’m thinkin’ that me headin’ for the starvin’ babies, there in DerFur, that’s a good thing, with cookies and toys, and that ought to say, hey, Iron Lady! I am important! And then, there, on that Sudan trip, with the skinny people who need cookies, that she won’t be readin’ those emails, those out of context emails.

I’m sure that Prime Minister Thatcher won’t be reading your emails, Governor.

And that’s a good thing, there, Greta, because we all know that rill Americans don’t care about emails. They would rather be readin’ my Facebook page and my gutteral twits.

Well, Governor, let’s step past the emails for now and talk about your upcoming plans. You’ve hinted that you might join the presidential race if your family is behind you and that door opens.  How are you feeling about that race?

Well, Greta, people keep askin’  me about that, about that race, that race against Obama, and well, Greta, I keep tellin’ em that we need somebody good to speak up against Obama, and Greta, it’s not lookin’ good right now for our folks. They don’t have that voice there, that voice in Washington, standin’ up for rill Americans, with their needin’ jobs and oil, and gmo corn. We rilly need to be plantin’ that corn, there, where liberal corn used to grow, makin’ it a better corn world, and supporting small business like Monsanto, there, and sendin’ email.

Governor, I heard that you won’t be attending any debates in the near future. Is that true?

Greta, those debates, those lamestream debates, those are for people with titles. I’m titleless and don’t need debates. There.

Governor, if you decide to join the race, will not attending the early debates hurt your chances?

Well, Greta, those debates are just limp old men who don’t stand a chance against me. Michelle, a friend of mine, well, she doesn’t have enough shoes.

Shoes are important.

Yes they are. You see, Greta, you understand. About shoes, about buses. And about how Bristle’s book tour is publicity for me and my next book: President by the Skin of My Teeth.

Governor, I’m paid to know about these things.

Greta, if more of that lamestream media, those operatives with liberal agendas, working for opposition operatives, well, if they knew about buses, and the First Amendment that our military put into law, well they, there, would stop fussin’ and makin’ up emails about me.

Governor, I don’t think the media wrote those emails.

Well, Greta, you may think so, there, not. But opposition researchers were writin’ emails all over the place, sayin’ stuff about my family.

Well Governor, we are out of time and will have to continue this conversation another time. Thank you as always.

Good to see you too, Greta, bless your Foxy heart.

Well, you heard it first here, on the record with Greta. Governor Palin may be many things, but we will never accuse her of being articulate.

Donut break: World’s Largest Donut

Since I’m getting a run on my old donut posts, I thought I would up the donut ante and go for the big one.



Paul Revere’s Midnight Ride: Updated again

On a cold, starry April night in 1775, Paul Revere was assigned the task of riding to Lexington to warn the British that the colonists were armed and were planning to stay that way. After first running through the streets of Boston shooting off his musket, blam blam (two if by sea) so that the citizens could unlock their musket safes and arm themselves to the teeth, Paul Revere swam across the Charleston River and borrowed a horse. He then galloped off into the night, ringin’ his bell and shootin’ his gun, loudly proclaiming, “The British are coming! Annie get your gun! Hey British dudes! We’re armed and you can’t have our guns!”

“Hey British! Hey British! We are armed!”

Blam Blam!! Ring Ring!!

Hey British, you can’t have our guns!!

Dream on, suckuhs!

Blam Blam!! Ring Ring!

During his ride, Paul happens upon a fair maiden who has run out to see what the ruckus is.

Fair Maiden:  Sire! What is happening?

Paul: Greetings fair maiden! I am warning the British that we colonists are armed.

Do you have your weapons loaded and ready?

Yes, sire, I have my trusty Smith and Wesson right here.

Excellent! Be sure to shoot it a bunch so those pesky British know you are armed. They’ll not get our guns!

Yes, sire, I shall fire with abandon!

Those British shall not have my weapon unless they pry it from my frigid lifeless digits!

That’s the spirit, lassie! I am off to warn the British that we mean business!

Ride hard my strong stallion! We must get to the British soon to warn them that we are armed!

Blam Blam!! Ring Ring!!

No man nor lass shall sleep tonight! Ring Ring!! Blam Blam!!

Update:   Someone named Elizabeth Ash wrote a poem and posted it on another blog:

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
To warn the Brits, or what? Oh, dear
I cannot think, it’s not quite clear…

I have it now! And I will tell:
He rode, he shot, he rang the bell,
He told the Brits to go to hell
Defiant, proud and shooting swell.

Through the country dark he road
Through fair New Hampshire, so we’re told,
Through field and street, he was right bold
His rifle clutched, a vise-like hold.

“We armed, we’re armed!” he shouted wide,
He rang that bell as he did ride,
He shot the dark from side to side,
Uh, wait, I think that, uh, I lied.

Another poetry update. Sarah’s stupidity always brings out the creativity in people.

Saracudda Rewrites History
by Anne Sweeney

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of political crises so severe
Our nation is threatened as never before
By the specter of Ignorance at our door
It isn’t al Qaeda that poses a threat
Not Korea or Iran nor China and Nyet,
There’s little from Russia that we have to fear
Our liberty’s foes are located here.
The danger is coming – a terrible blight
It’s the Princess of Darkness, the Queen of the Right
Sarah Palin is loose and it’s more than her views
Or her spreading her lies all over Faux News
We thought her stupidity couldn’t be more
The election debacle, the media whore
The PACS and the clothes, the untalented daughter
And Levi, the First Dude and wildlife to slaughter
There’s drilling and shilling her book and her state
Sarah Palin’s Alaska – Oh give me a break!
The endorsements of candidates ready to run
They were all to the right of Attila the Hun
She doesn’t let anything stand in her way
Mamma Grizzly will vanquish that (b)witch Tina Fey
And Katy, and Rachel and Sawyer who dare
To suggest she’s got nothing ‘neath that pile of hair
She’s immune to ridicule, truth or good sense
She’s got her supporters all equally dense
The Tea Party loves her, what else does she need
They will back her whatever her word or her deed
How far she has gone to me is a mystery
How can you explain this reversal of history?
So Revere warned the British, my goodness who knew?
We will rewrite the textbooks, the word will get through!
Paul Revere was a traitor, Tea Baggers will claim
They will join stupid Sarah in trashing his name
And if liberals in Boston should start to protest,
We have ways of dealing – Saracudda knows best
And what of the Minutemen swooping like eagles?
They were from Arizona and hunting illegals
And Samuel Adams, we must make it clear
He did go to Harvard, so don’t drink his beer
Bunker Hill was a victory, The Redcoats were routed
The truth of that statement can never be doubted
And the Boston Tea Party – oh here’s to our cause!
It was all about taxes, and Obama’s laws
Founding Fathers were Christians so put on your blinkers
And ignore all the guys who were really freethinkers
For thinking’s not part of Sarah’s new quest
Rousing rabble and lying is what she does best
And as the Know Nothings do flock to her flag
Abandon all hope, for this ignorant hag
Will be quick to throw us right under the bus
We have met the enemy – you betcha. She’s us.

That Bristle: Too boring for reality TV?

Having finished the filming of Bristle’s move to the LA “house,” the camera people have the cast members do some filler shots and filler dialogue while waiting for the director to arrive on the set.

Bristle practices looking hip and savvy.

Cameraman #1: Bristle, say something to the guys.

Kyle: Yo Bristle, I’m glad to see you got moved in.

Chris: Now we can get to working on the charity.

Bristle: Um…yeah, all moved in, me and Zippy Trippy.

Bristle: Uh…you, um, guys ready to get to work?

Bristle: I’m, um, looking forward, here, to doing the charity stuff.

Cameraman #2: Keep talking everybody.

Chris: We’re tryin’ man.

Chris: My girlfriend Tanya will be here soon. We are going to go pick up the keys to the new charity office.

Kyle: Great. I think the office furniture delivery is set up for tomorrow. Gotta check on that.

Kyle: I’m jazzed about this.

Cameraman #1: Bristle, join in and tell us how you feel.

Bristle: Um…I’m excited too.

Cameraman #1: Bristle, do you think you could expand on that a bit?

Bristle: Uh, okay…um, I’m gonna work hard at the charity thing, and, um… do lots of stuff for the community and, um…me and they guys are gonna laugh.

Kyle: Good times, roomies, good times.

Cameraman #2: Velcro kid.

Bristle: Tripper Nipper, go see Uncle Chris.

Bristle: awww, Troupin’ Trippy wuvs his uncle.

Bristle: Hey there little Spiffy Trippy, go see Uncle Kyle now.

Kyle: The little guy likes my bro the best. I’ll bet Chris is giving him candy.

Chris: Hey now…I only did that once. I hear the director in the entryway.

Director: Okay people, I need you to continue interacting so I can see how you work together.

Director: Bristle, you really need to step out of yourself and at least try to shine.  I’m afraid the moving footage is as dull as it comes. We’ve got to pump some life into this concept.

Bristle: Um… I’m doing the best I can. You don’t have to be so mean.

Bristle: I, uh, am really thrilled and excited about the project.

Director: *sigh*

Chris: Hey everybody! This is my girlfriend Tanya.

Tanya: Hi everybody! Nice to meet you!

Bristle: Hi Tanya.

Tanya: Chris and I are heading out to get the keys to the new office. Is that exciting or what?

Bristle: Um…very exciting. And thrilling.

Chris and Tanya: Bye everybody! Later!

Bristle and Kyle: Bye! Later!

Director: *sigh*

Director: Okay, you guys, we have a real problem with the show. I’ve been talking to my producers about the lack of energy in the filming so far. You guys really need to step it up and put yourselves out there.  The charity office itself isn’t the biggest goldmine for filming opportunities, so we’ve really got to work with this living situation. I don’t suppose you two are starting a relationship? That would be useful.

Kyle: No, we’re just friends. I guess we don’t have much in common. I was kind of hoping the charity would be the spark. I’m pretty worked up about doing it.

Bristle: Um…me too. I mean, um, it’ll be a blast. Me and Kyle. And Chris. And Hip Tripp. Yeah, um, it’ll be exciting.

Director: *sigh*