posted by Susan Stark

It’s a little too close to the election for me to be writing a post like this one, or at least it’s too late to serve as a warning. But the New York Post took it upon themselves to write a piece of speculative fiction on Obama. So I’m taking it upon myself to write a similar piece on McCain. Or more precisely, on Palin:

Date: November 4, 2012

It is dangerous to write this, so I will keep my identity a secret. But it must be written. It must.

I am in a basement right now, and I am using a hand-crank emergency light in order to see. There is no electricity to speak of. There hasn’t been any for a while here in New York. Ordinarily I would not use my hand-crank at all unless absolutely necessary, but I need to write. It’s my last stab at a legacy. I could be dead tomorrow.

Four years ago this started. Four fucking years ago. It seems like a fucking lifetime. Several lifetimes. That was the day the Palin regime started. The decrepit old fart that everyone thought they were voting for did not last long. And his death, I might add, was under suspicious circumstances. It is treason to write this. An execution-able offense.

After McCain’s death. That’s when it all started. Abortion clinics where shut down. Their locks changed in the middle of the night. People found out about this pretty quickly, because back then, we still had the Internet to find out things that quickly. Protests began. People took to the streets.

However, emboldened by their new-found messiah in the form of a prom queen, pro-Palin supporters used brutal violence against the protesters. Many were clubbed and beaten to death. None of the attackers was ever charged or held accountable for their actions. Instead, the violence was blamed on the protesters. It became too dangerous to openly protest.

But that was only a first taste of what was to come. On foreign policy, Palin surrounded herself with christian fundamentalists and rabid Israeli lobbyists as advisers. Under their direction, Palin bombed two operational nuclear power plants in Iran, claiming that the Iranians were building nuclear weapons there. Tehran was turned into a radioactive wasteland.

Most of the world rose up in horror of this action, and even what was left of our allies cringed. In protest, tourists no longer came to the United States, and many countries and their citizens boycotted our products and services, causing massive economic damage to the country. Here in New York, there was a massive exodus of people due to widespread unemployment. Sarah Palin called it God’s judgment on “liberals”.

After the economic meltdown, it wasn’t just liberals who were protesting and rioting. Anybody who didn’t know where their next meal might come from were joining the club. Sarah Palin retaliated by cutting off food stamps and welfare, calling the protesters “lazy”, who “didn’t want to work”.

In place government checks, Palin handed out government cheese. Food distribution centers existed, but that food came at a price. Loyalty to Palin and her regime was that price. These re-educational centers were run by her hired goons, goons who had earlier beaten up the pro-choice protesters.

What else can I say now? Every day is like any other day. I wonder where my next meal will come from, because I refuse to be re-educated. I wonder when the goddamn electricity will come back on. Nobody has either the money or the will to get it back on. Sometimes food is smuggled in from Canada, through the black market or through charity or through Leftist supporters overseas, so I eat.

There are, however, a few things that keep me going. I listen to my shortwave radio, to clandestine and pirate stations beaming into the country, which gives me a shred of hope. I meet with my friends and allies, and we plan and act.

And one more thing gives me hope. When I venture outside, I see them. Words of defiance sprayed on the wall. Cartoons sprayed on the walls. Some of the cartoons are terribly familiar to me, because I’ve seen their style before. They are unmistakably Ted Rall’s. Ted does not draw on paper anymore, he paints on the wall. They are images of anger and defiance, of fists pumped in the air. One image has become iconic, so much so that even the shortwave talks about it. That image is of Sarah Palin hanging from a noose. The image gives me hope, but it also makes me pray to God every day that nothing ever happens to Ted.

The light is running out of charge. I must stop writing now, but I will write again tomorrow. I’m going now to curl up with my friends for warmth, because there is no heat and it’s autumn, soon to be winter. Good night.