The world is going to hell in a hand basket. That’s French for “Sarah Palin.” Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.
There is a dumpster outside our door that is full of asbestos. Oh dear.
But, across the street, in front of what is an SRO that is being converted into a hotel for poor saps who find it on the internet and then once they see it have no place else to go, there is one scraggly tree and in this one scraggly tree there sings a cricket. It sings loud and clear and solo. It’s beautiful. Poor cricket. I don’t have the heart to tell it that the world is going to hell in a hand basket. Still, the cricket in Times Square came into town in a basket, I believe, and things didn’t turn out so bad for him. Garth Williams is one of my favorite illustrators. My brother has a cat name Chester. Are you following this? If Sarah Palin existed only in a book as drawn by Garth Williams, even if she were the villain, she would be a nicer person than she is. Where is Garth Williams when you need him? He illustrated one of my most precious childhood books. It was called Over and Over by Charlotte Zolotow. I just looked Charlotte Zolotow up on wikipedia, and it seems she has a daughter named Crescent Dragonwagon. I’m starting to feel better. I still have a copy of Over and Over. It’s about a little girl who is so little she doesn’t know anything about the holidays and her mother wakes her up and there’s a Christmas tree, and then an easter basket, and then the seashore, and her birthday and halloween and thanksgiving, and then…it will all happen again. So, see, the end is not nigh. Right? Charlotte Zolotow and Garth Williams and the cricket across the street say so. Now to convince all those scary republicans…

AND HOW DARE SARAH PALIN COMPARE HERSELF TO THE LOYAL PIT BULL, ANYWAY? Yet another way these poor dogs have been maligned.

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