Hockey Mom Slam-Dunks Homerun Touchdown!

Nation's Media Go Goonybird for Tough-Talking Broad Who Totally Looks Like Their Friend Troy's Hot Mom!

Sarah Palin surprised all last night when she addressed the RNC, taking the unexpected tack of appealing to the delegate's fetishistic love of patriotism and religion and speaking in wee-bitty words. Like saber-toothed tigers gone mad from mainlined catnip, the delegates ooed and ahhed over their half-assed candidate in a desperate and nervous bid to look like they haven't made a terrible, terrible mistake.

"I like babies!" announced Palin. "Babies babies babies! I do not like to see them killed. And I like soldiers who defend freedom. My son is a soldier defending freedom on September 11, September 11, September 11."

All present fainted at the word mastery of the vice presidential candidate, who totally looks like Tina Fey if you squint hard and ignore her adherence to guns, oil, and ecological holocaust. Ripping out the heart of a still living polar bear with her teeth and allowing the blood to run thick and heavy over her Oscar De La Renta suit, Palin bellowed in a voice not her own.

"Arrrooooooo! I am the spirit of the Wendigo! I demand the flesh of innocents! I demand tax cuts! I demand the heart of those who dare say a state and United States senator's experience somehow exceeds that of the mayor of a podunk town! Wendigo! Wendigo! Wendigo! Arooooooooo!!!"

Conservative pundits wishing to sex the spectacles off the candidate immediately declared that not since Abraham Lincoln or William Jennings Bryan had a politician spoken so poetically. "Surely she is the son of God!" said one particularly slavish journalist.

"I am married," the Sarah continued, polar bear giblets hanging in stringy strands from her teeth. "To a man. He is a commercial fisherman, a steel worker, a world champion snow machine racer, a forklift operator, a seventh level magic user, a small pudding cup, a cashmere scarf, an Underwood portable typewriter, a working model of the solar system, a midnight viewing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, several stacks of Pop Tarts, the monkey house at Brookfield Zoo, and a professional Eskimo. We have had of the sex, and made of the children, especially the one with Downs, whom I love most of all because he possesses upslanting palpebral fissures."

Governor Palin was then joined by several children whom she did not immediately recognize as her own.

"Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Get away! Vile moppets!" screamed the governor, hitting them with a riding crops for several minutes before noticing their name tags.

Suddenly they formed a human pyramid which she climbed atop, continuing to speak while ignoring the squeals and groans of pain issued by the smaller ones as her heels dug into their backs.

"Here are my beloved children Track, Willow, Piper, Trig, Calculus, Wooly Bully, Man-Bat, Viper, Hooch, Ragnar, Queerbo, Fistula, Eczema, Coprophage, and Rollerball. Aren't they lovely? Aren't they healthy and strong? Not like the little camera-whores of certain politician's and their America-hating spouses. And may I also introduce my daughter, who will soon experience a virgin birth, and her future husband." Palin was then joined by her daughter Bristol and her fiance Levi Johnston who gamely waved to the crowd even as he frantically tugged at the high-tech collar locked about his neck, which will explode and rupture his carotid arteries should he wander past the perimeter.

Palin continued: "I am just your average hockey mom. I have children who play hockey, and I gave birth to them. So that means I'm a hockey mom. Sometimes I even go to the games, if I'm not too busy governing, you know? It's tough though. I had to think long and hard before abandoning my beautiful special needs newborn three days after birthing the little gnome. But I am a hockey mom, which sort of makes me a soccer mom, tae kwon do mom, Irish step-dancing mom, and golfing mom too, angry Hillary supporters. Um, I'm only sort of a lacrosse mom, but I can be that too. I'm certainly not a drama club mom, if you know what I mean." The governor then made limp-wristed hand gestures and began prancing about the stage like a big old pouf. Sixty-five delegates immediately died of pure joy.

"I drive myself to work, like you. Also like you, I eat food and drink liquids," said the governor, establishing her common-man roots. "At times I defecate, blink, salivate, grow hair on sundry parts of my body, and wear clothing. I AM ONE OF YOU!!!"

And it was true! SO TRUE!!!

"Economically, I can assure you that during my administration Alaskan snow production was at its highest. Moose skins and caribou meat supplies are at an all-time high. I also arranged for the sun to burn brightly night and day for months at a time. Certain politicians would have you living in the dark half the time, like in fancy-pantsy West Coast towns like Chicago."

And there was more! Oh God, more!!!

"My opponent, who might or might not be from Chicago... maybe from the arugula capital of the world, Hyde Park... Who possibly has a name that rhymes with Shamrock O'Llama... I'm not saying he is or isn't... Would have the terrorists win and raise your taxes. Do you want to pay terrorist taxes? I do not. My opponent, I'm led to understand--and remember, this might be a complete load of crap--wants to institute a new tax tax—for Osama bin Laden. Do you want to pay more taxes on your taxes for terrorists who want the terrorists to win. No no no no no!" The governor punctuated each no with a little foot stamp across the stage/

The crowd roared its approval of no more tax taxes for terrorists.

The governor went silent for a moment, and the crowd likewise fell into a respectful hush. Unbuttoning the top six buttons of her blouse she leaned forward to pick up a nearby stack of library books, revealing copious cleavage. A fleet of priapisms sprang into action, causing half of the male delegates to pass out as the blood rushed from their heads.

"John McCain make me so horny," said the governor, pressing her breasts together and making a moue of her lips. "Who wants a suave, smart, sexy, compassionate, thoughtful young guy who's got staying power when you can have cranky Grandpa Morty, who might well drop dead in the middle of the act?"

All present couldn't see a problem with that line of reasoning.

"John McCain was shot down and tortured for years at the Hanoi Hilton. What more do you expect from a Commander in Chief? My God, he's like Harrison Ford in Air Force One combined with Dennis Haysbert in 24. Jesus Christ, is it hot in here?"

The governor then whipped off her skirt and blouse to reveal a red, white, and blue hot pants and sports bra combination. Suddenly, the convention center came alive with the sound of Cheap Trick's "She's Tight." Undulating and shimmying to Rick Nielsen's guitar and the roaring delight of lobbyists and oilmen sitting in the front row, the governor introduced her new program to kickstart the economy with the fives and tens slipped into her belt.

"Thank you! Thank you all! And may God bless my hot Alaskan ass!"