Hopey Changey

January 21, 2016

Dear Sarah Palin,

It has been tough sledding for the Obamacare Death Panel ever since you revealed our existence several years ago. Why, senior citizens started getting in shape, taking conceal carry gun training, running in 5K races, lifting weights and the like. We weren’t able to catch enough of them to justify our program.

Therefore, we have changed our mission. As of last month, our new Obamacare panel, “Dumbass Are Us, Dawg,” was launched. We programmed a supercomputer to identify dumbass Americans and sort them into categories: Mildly Dumbass, Can’t Help It Dumbass, Truly Dumbass, and Oh So Dumbass. Only the Oh So Dumbass will be, uh, tortured by being held in Chicago Mayor Rahm Emmanuel’s black ops site and forced to watch Spanish language programs until their eyes pop out.

The Mildly Dumbass group is composed mostly of politicians and school principals of all stripes. Can’t Help It Dumbass covers your incompetents, your hustlers and hucksters, the liberal media, Reverend Al Sharpton, and such. Truly Dumbass is reserved for Ted Cruz anything, reality TV show creators, Honey Boo Boo’s mother Mrs. Boo, “Sexy Bill” Clinton, and that Kentucky court homophobe “Sexy Kim-what’s-her-face.”

Mrs. Palin, you are the only person our computer has categorized as Oh So Dumbass. Subsequently, we will be knock-knock knocking on Sarah’s door any day now. This gives you a chance to settle your affairs—if you know what I mean.

(We noticed that in your yesterday’s appearance with Donald Trump, Mr. Trump put his hand on your rump. He claimed he was reaching for your mouth.)

The computer took note of your phrase “hopey changey,” which you used in the sentence, “Hey, Obama is leavin’ town and takin’ his hopey changey with him, and here comes Donald Trump to kick some ass!” We watched Mr. Trump’s face turn red as he slowly came to Aristotelian recognition that you are dumber than a wood knot, and he moved his gaze away from your rump to the sky.

And that is the deal breaker, Mrs. Palin: Donald Trump thinks you’re an Oh So Dumbass.

While you were away from your home speechifying, we sent black helicopters to your compound in Alaska and removed your AK-47s, your bazookas, your Glocks and Colts and shotguns and .45s and derringers. We worried that your neighbors would call 911, but in fact they helped us take your weapons.

So, Mrs. P.: Make peace with your Maker. Don’t bother looking for your piece. Kiss those oversexed, naughty kids of yours goodbye. Take some Spanish lessons—don’t hire Mexicans! See you soon!

Sincerely,

Brittany Spears Mint

Former Director, Seniors: Adios Lazy Shriveled Atrophying Asses (SALSAA)

Director:  Obamacare Dumbass Are Us, Dawg (DAUG)

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