Rubbernecking at the trainwreck has gone on long enough. It’s time to let it recede into the distance and move on. I am so incredibly tired of that woman that I am unable to even look at my Sarah dolls, much less set up the couple of photo shoots I had planned. It’s time to call it quits. When I took a vote around the plastic dinner table, there were a hundred you betchas and twenty Hell Yeahs. We are done with the Wicked Witch of Wasilla.
I’m going back to my quiet life of camping and gardening and working at the food pantry. My plastic buddies and I have adventures ahead, and we are all going to enjoy not having that nutball tagging along in her ugly shoes. Her negative energy is a drag on the universe, even in plastic form, and with Her Screechiness fading into squawking irrelevance, like a plucked parrot that speaks only Albanian, I no longer need or want to keep my eye on her.
Buh Bye, Sarah.