The Bastard and the Bitch
By not78highstreet
Published: March 7, 2010
Updated: March 7, 2010


Sarah Palin | Act V, Scene 1

SCENE 1. Alaska. A Room in da Palace.

[Enter Sarah Palin, Dick Cheney with the crown, and myriad party sycophants.]

Thus hath I yielded up into yer noble hand
Da circle of me glory band.

[Give SARAH PALIN the crown.]
Take again, like a slave his whip
From dis here grip, as holding of ole Georgy Bush, a pip

Yer sovereign greatness and authority,

In any court you'd be guilty of pejority


Now keep yo holy word: go fetch da Democrats;

And from his holiness use all yo power

To stop dem flower marches 'fore we are inflam'd.

Our discontented tummies do revolt;

Oh flatulence, my lunch doth bolt

Our peoples quarrel wit obedience;

Swearing allegiance and the awkward luv of rhythm and soul

To stranger blood, to alien royalty.

Build dat border fence but not too noisily

Dis inundation of mistemper'd humour

It's like yo daddy's baby, just a tumor

Den pause not; fer the president time's so sick

I must to North Caroline, lynch a misbegotten hick

That wicked healthcare reform must be ministr'd

Our poor Bernie Madoff, rich peoples their bank accounts he sinister'd

Must overthrow our changey, hopey congress new

Else poor Rush Limbaugh, his heated lungs will spew.


It was my sour breath that blew this tempest up,

Upon your stubborn usage of George Bush:

But since you are a gentle convertite,

My tongue shall wag again this storm of war

And make fair weather in yond blustering land.

On this, your Ascension day, remember well,

Upon your oath of service to the Bush,

Go I to make the Democrats lay down their arms.



Is dat my Ascension day? Didst not John McCain

Say that before Ascension day at noon

My crown I should give off? Even so I have:

I done suppose'd it should be such on constraint;

But, heaven be thank'd, it ain't but voluntary,

And yet the pistol in my pocket sez it tain't.

[Enter the BASTARD.]


All DC hath yielded; nothing there holds out

But Wall Street screweth Main Street, and hath receiv'd,

Like a kind host, the fair Obama and his powers:

Your nobles and Bernanke will not hear you, but is gone

To offer service to your enemy;

And wild amazement hurries up and down

The little number of your doubtful friends.


Would not me lords return to me again

After they heard young Donald Rumsfield was alive?


They found him dead, and cast into the streets;

An empty casket, where the jewel of life

By some damn'd hand was robb'd and ta'en away.


That villain Bill Clinton told me he did live!


So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew.

But wherefore do you droop? why look you sad?

Be great in act, as you have been in thought;

Let not the world see fear and sad distrust

Govern the motion of a queenly eye:

Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire;

Threaten the threatener, and outface the Ivy brow

Of bragging horror: so shall inferior eyes,

That borrow their behaviours from the great,

Grow great by your example, and put on

The dauntless pirates of irresolution.

Away, and glister like a dwarven gawd of warcraft

When dear Obama intendeth to become the field:

Show boldness and aspiring confidence.

What, shall they seek Pelosi in her den,

And fright her there? and make her tremble there?

O, let it not be said!--Forage, and run

To meet displeasure farther from the doors,

And grapple with Obama ere he come so nigh.


The legate of dat George Bush hath made me wet,

And I have done made me a happy peace wit him ;

And he hath promis'd to dismiss the powers

Led by the fair Obama.


O inglorious league!

Shall we, upon the looting of our land,

Send fair-play orders, and make compromise,

Insinuation, parley, and base truce,

To arms invasive? shall a beardless boy, nay bodkin

A cocker'd silken wanton, brave our fields of potato,

And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil,

on this your loins despoil

Mocking the air with colours idly spread,

like a whore your cunt smells like bread

And find no check? Let us, my liege, to arms;

I, like you, to the cows on my farms

Perchance ole Dick Cheney cannot make your peace;

as his mouth and penis never cease

Or, if he do, let it at least be said,

you're a cunt and whore and we must be wed

They saw we had a purpose of defence,

so get your sorry arse now hence.


Have yer dat dere ordering of dis present time?

Cuz you look most green, like prehistoric slime.


Away, then, with good courage! yet, I know

Our party may well meet a prouder foe.