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Archive for the ‘Barbie Theatre’ Category

Update: The perils blog has been running for a while and is now winding down as Sarah hopefully fades into the sunset. Since I will be posting less over there, and with fewer Palin posts, I’ve decided to revive this blog.  The Perils blog is fully functional, with lots of archival posts and a trickle of new posts, so feel free to wander over there if the subject matter interests you.

http://theperilsofpalins.wordpress.com

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I have made the decision to spin off the Palin barbie portion of my blog. It will take me a few weeks at least to move my PlasticLand show to the new blog, but I will let my barbie/Palin satire fans know when and where the new blog will debut. If you are one of my bug post fans, I will be doing many more of those. This blog will concentrate on road trips, bugs, scenery, rants about people who cut down shoe trees, and all of the other eccentric odds and ends you have come to expect.  The only thing missing will be the barbie Palin dog and pony show, which needed its own venue. Stay tuned…

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Our favorite couple shows their true colors. I just got them done, but soon I will put them in a scary setting. Maybe I’ll have them eat Joe Miller’s brains.

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After hearing the news that “famous” teen mom Bristol Palin has joined this season’s cast of Dancing with the Stars, I began imagining the conversation with her dance partner during the competition, after the two of them have had to spend time together practicing. Showing all the signs of following in her mother’s footsteps, mean girl Bristol “Revirginated” Palin is reportedly working hard on her diva credentials. Here is my imaginary conversation between Bristol and her dance partner, Jethro “Short-Straw” Twinkletoes.

Our next contestants, Bristle Palin and Jethro Twinkletoes, will wow the judges with their modern version of ballroom dancing.

“If you drop me in front of the judges my mother will ruin you.”

“After all, I am the famous teenage daughter of the most popular woman in America.”

“You’ve threatened me since we got stuck dancing together.”

“You are mean as a snake. Does that make your mother a Mama Cobra?”

“My mother will crush you.”

“She’s already got those crazy fans of hers sending me death threats. My lawyer thinks I might have a good harassment case.”

“Nobody sues my mother and lives.”

“Where does your family bury the bodies?”

“You’ll find out the hard way if you mess with us. I am the Revirginated. My mother is a grizzly with sharp claws.”

“Yeah, whatever. I am the overloaded. Get ready for the floor move.”

“You’re just some over-educated dancer. I am the Revirginated.”

“Well cha-cha-whoop-de-do, missy. You keep that delusion going. Wouldn’t want to disrupt your reality.”

“I don’t like your tone, mister.”

“And I don’t like your big feet, miss pre-owned virgin.”

“You are disgusting. You must be a librul.”

“Better than being a repackaged slut.”

“My mother will wipe you and your kin off the face of the earth.”

“Yeah, just my luck I drew the short straw when nobody wanted to dance with the Bristle.”

“That’s not true! I am loved, just like my mother.”

“I’d love to throw you a good ten feet.”

“You disrespectful cad.”

“Oops! If only your head wasn’t so swollen, I wouldn’t have been thrown off balance.”

“You will die when I tell my mother what you did.”

“Oh shut your pie hole and get up on those big feet of yours.”

“You weigh a ton. Must be all the shit you are full of.”

“I’m sending my lawyer after you for slander and dropping.”

“After I kick your ass.”

“You have no cojones.”

“I am the great Bristle, famous popular teen mom.”

“You are a delusional mean girl, riding the coattails of your delusional mean girl mom.”

“Shut up you asshole!”

“I am the Great Bristle.”

“You are nobody except the guy dancing with the Great Bristle!”

“Then let’s just dance and get this over with so I never have to see you again.”

“Fine with me. I just want to be done with this disgusting experience.”

“Lady, I couldn’t agree with you more. I’m scarred for life.”

“Not as scarred as you will be after my mother rips your face off.”

“Oops, your big mouth tripped me.”

“You oaf! You are such dead meat!”

“Wouldn’t want the judges mistaking you for a graceful woman.”

“You should talk, you asshole!”

“Oops, what did you say?”

“You are crushing my bumpit, you ignorant moron!!”

“Here, let me pull you up by your big fat foot.”

“Did you get that grace from your mom?”

“Shut up and pull, you pig, or I will drive my heel through your brain.”

“Temper, temper, wouldn’t want the judges to see that twisted rage face of yours.”

“I am the Great Bristle.”

“You aren’t wearing any underwear.”

“Where’s the Seal of Revirgination?”

“Nope, no seal.”

“You just made that up, didn’t you?”

“I am the Great Virgin Bristle, most popular teen mom of all.”

“From down here you just look like another leg spreadin’ bimbo.”

“Oops, your fat head again.”

“My mother says that doing the splits is almost as good as playing the flute.”

“We’ll wow the judges with our double splits.”

“I am the Great Bristle, and I can dance.”

“I should have been allowed to dance alone, since I am better than the rest of you.”

“Your mama never taught you any manners, did she?”

“Manners are for servants.”

“I’ll bet I could make money writing a book about this. Maybe I’ll call it ‘Teen Bitch.'”

“My mother will crush you if you do.”

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This blogger managed to sneak onto the set of Discovery Channel’s newest show, Sarah Palin’s Alaska. Discovery/TLC thought they had enough problems with the show, what with petitions, boycotts, and lost advertisers. But when the set was crashed by some determined visitors, Discovery finally had to concede defeat. Here is hidden camera footage of the incident. Poor film quality is the result of using a hidden phone camera. No stuffed animals were harmed in the making of this photo essay. I can’t say the same for Sarah barbie. With nothing left to do on a long summer day in Alaska, the film crew accepted Joe McGinniss’s invitation for a big bbq and kegger at the rental. Prizes were awarded for the best fence decoration, best pervert imitation, and the kid-in-backpack-lawn-mowing relay race.

Sarah started her word salad in front of another fake Alaskan backdrop. She told the film crew she doesn’t do live outdoor shots because the squawking birds always have it in for her. She chose for her backdrop, of all things, a picture of the Malaspina Ferry in Southeast Alaska. Given that she only showed up in Southeast when she was for the bridge to nowhere before she was against it, and a couple of quick trips to Juneau as Governor, the crew thought it was an odd choice.

Manic Sarah blathered as the film crew rolled its eyes.

Not only did Discovery turn down her demands for bendy straws, but they also told her there would be no legions of private security. Big Bear borrowed a press pass from a local blogger and crashed the set. Sarah was NOT happy.

“Get away from me, you socialist!”

“No way, you twat! You are going to be a rug on the back of the couch in my den.”

“You are to blame for my relatives being murdered in western Alaska.”

“It’s payback time, bitch!”

“Oh no! stop! help meeeeee!”

The film crew stepped out for a coffee break, so nobody was around to help poor ol’ Sarah.

If only she had her bus.

Big Bear’s friends showed up. Walrus said, “give me a piece of the twat.”

White Seal and Other Bear wanted a bite too.

Raven, the iconic image of Alaska, wanted a bite.

“You sully the great state of Alaska”, croaked Raven.

The animals cheered.

The animals moved in for the kill.

“Croak!”

“Munch munch!”

White Seal pounced. “Polar Bear and I were part of the great dance of life and death before YOU showed up, you fucking maniac shithead!”

“Today, YOU are prey!”

Mini Moose, Wolf Puppy, Salmon, and Little Bear joined in the kill.

“The Natives need me to survive,” yelled Salmon. “But you say let them eat cookies!”

The animals cheered.

Wolf Puppy took a bite. “I am the last in my family because of you,” snarled Wolf Puppy.

Big Squirrel and Fuzzy Flamingo were on a cruise ship when they heard about the filming. They sacrificed their vacations to join in.

“We’re next if you aren’t stopped now!” yelled the out-of-towners.

And the animals rejoiced.

Much rejoicing.

Accompanied by more munching.

“This is the rill dill!” yelled Salmon.

Dinnertime!

Enough for everybody.

“Let’s fillet her!” yelled Salmon.

Need herbs to cover the bitterness.

“I’ll bet she’s all gristle,” said Mini Moose. “She would be more tender in chili.”

“Let’s throw her in the river and watch her go with the flow!” yelled Salmon.

“We’re going to need antacid after this,” said Little Bear.

Sarah is finally where she belongs.

Right next to the mashed potatoes.

The End.

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Sarah Palin makes another stop on her tour of “real America,” where everybody is white, Republican, and stupid.

I am Sarah the Queen. You may now line up so that I can sign copies of my glorious book that I wrote myself except for that ghost writer lady helping to put my glorious words on paper, you betcha, the way Moses helped God put words on tablets, except I fired Moses because she wanted her name on the cover of my tablets and that won’t do, dontcha know, also too.

I brought my blessed under-dressed angel who is a pain in the ass and who does not have my glorious good looks so he has to settle for being iconic with cold feet.

Don’t forget to take advantage of my special offers that are only my just due since I am a queen and I need money for my vacations. The cashier is to the right on your way out.

I only sign books bought here because they love me here and will make you pay full price and you won’t even get a subscription to a magazine that speaks in complete sentences about how wonderful I am.

Buy two so you can sell one on EBay and then send me the money for my vacations away from that stupid, er, glorious Alaska.

I will only sign 1000, er… 500, er… 25 books because I have a plane, er…bus to catch on my way to another glorious part of real America, where more idiots, er…adoring fans are waiting in the rain for me to smile upon them the way God smiled on his flock from above, while amber shades of sunset glowed around his head.

Giving your real American germs to the retard, er…blessed angel will cost you extra. Don’t forget the cashier is to the right on your way out.

Buy some unsigned copies on your way out because I will only sign two and I’m sure you have relatives who adore me. Cashier on right, yada yada.

Word salad, $50/lb.

The good villagers of PlasticLand decide to get together and protest one of Sarah’s salad signings. They thought they got rid of her, but she’s like mildew and just keeps coming back.

They make their signs.

Plan their strategy.

KO even stops by to join in.

One-armed barbie is sick of Sarah using little Trig as a prop.

Rural Native Alaskan barbie is still pissed about the EX-gov’s really lame non-response to the rural food and fuel crisis the previous winter.

KO is starting to get tired of the gift that keeps on giving.

It’s Todd’s turn to be the family prop today.

He tries not to stand too near the utterly strange “real Americans” who adore his wife.

Sarah’s fans.

Sarah turns on the charm as she signs books.

Security guy needs a beer.

Sarah is thinking she needs a Red Bull.

She thinks about her upcoming vacation when she gets done with this stupid, er…glorious tour of real America.

I’m so glad you could all come and support my bank account, er…my great values and message as I walk among you.

Signing my wonderful book over and over is like walking in a flower-filled meadow while waiting for my moose chili to be done.

Todd is thinking about that pretty little “roof” he needs to “fix.”

Have you all seen my Todd?

Is he a hunk or what? His sparkling blue eyes crinkle when he smiles, like the wrapper of my Crunchwrap Supreme on a warm fall afternoon as the birds sing above the remote peaks of the Alaskan wilderness. Dang!

Todd took time out of his busy roof fixing, which he does with his buddies and is really good at because he’s part Native, to be here with me in real America.

Those evil bloggers in pajamas think I would give up this great prop, er…husband hunk. Dang! Have you SEEN Todd?

I am perfect with a perfect life and a hunky husband and perfect children that everybody is always picking on because they are jealous of me and what an expert on everything I am.

Sarah’s bus waits outside for her quick getaway to the airport.

Well let’s get these books signed now so I can get the hell out of here and have a Red Bull and check my Blackberries, er…I have another stop soon with more lovely real Americans so let’s hustle.

The signing continues.

Trig starts fussing.

Where is Piper or Aunt Katie?

Trig, did you eat my Blackberries? You know you can’t handle solid food yet.

Did everybody see my prop, er…blessed angel?

Hey you, security man! Stop standing around doing nothing and take my retard, er…blessed angel.

Hurry up, he needs some clothes and shoes because those blasted bloggers keep talking about him not being properly dressed, er…he needs changing.

Now, where was I?

Security guy REALLY needs a beer now.

I’m almost at my limit for the day.

Todd decides he needs to get back to the “roof.”

Bye bye, hunky hubby! Dang!

The villagers have assembled outside the signing venue.

Nice ripe tomatoes.

They laugh and chant with solidarity.

Quitty Twitty Bang Bang!!

WE are real America!

The Grifter is in town, polluting our air!

And we aren’t going to take it anymore!

Expert on quitting and taking stupid people’s money!

May your aim be true and your arm strong!

THIS is free speech!

Real American Tomatoes!

Native barbie decides to go for a closer shot.

Woohoo! Touchdown!!

A new kind of pancake makeup!

And the villagers rejoice!

Much rejoicing.

Got the Palin wannabe too! Good shot!

Oh no, my hair extensions are ruined!

More rejoicing.

You ruined my outfit!

Mine too!

Security guy wishes he’d stayed on the turkey farm.

A fitting mess.

One-armed barbie grabbed Trig to keep him out of the fray.

I’m going to get fired! I need a beer!!

Tomatoes for the salad!!

Where’s that damn bus! Where’s security!? Where’s Piper?! My hairdo is ruined and my troughed-on makeup is running!

I’m going to sue everybody! You will hear from my lawyer and my faceliftbook ghostwriter!

Rejoicing continues.

Sarah makes a getaway, but not before her bus gets tomatoed.

The Bots ran away, afraid of those “socialist riff-raff” free-speechers.

And peace descended upon the land.

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Sarah is in Asia pretending Todd is there too, but he’s back in Wasilla in his new apartment he’s been fixing up. Greta took the opportunity for a visit. They shared a few beers and Greta gave Todd a foot rub.

Do you think Mattel could make their Ken dolls any stiffer? Is there some hidden motivation for making very bendable barbies with perky expressions and then making vacuous stiff-board Kens?

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