Sarah Palin has a rather spectacular word salad for us today at Facebook, ranting at one of the right’s perennial targets, PETA, after they criticized her for posting a photo of her son standing on the family dog to wash dishes. In a standard what-about deflection maneuver, she brings up, yes, the hackneyed right wing joke known as OBAMA ATE DOG because the story involves dogs. Never fails to make ‘em chortle and guffaw.

Sarah Palin - Dear PETA, Chill. at Least Trig Didn’t Eat the Dog….

Dear PETA,

Chill. At least Trig didn’t eat the dog.

Hey, by the way, remember your “Woman of the Year”, Ellen DeGeneres? Did you get all wee-wee’d up when she posted this sweet picture? http://conservatives4palin.com/2015/01/peta-woman-year-posts-photo-child-standing-dog.html Hypocritical, much?

Did you go as crazy when your heroic Man-of-Your-Lifetime, Barack Obama, revealed he actually enjoyed eating dead dog meat?

Aren’t you the double-standard radicals always opposing Alaska’s Iditarod - the Last Great Race honoring dogs who are born to run in wide open spaces, while some of your pets “thrive” in a concrete jungle where they’re allowed outdoors to breathe and pee maybe once a day?

[…]

Aren’t you the same anti-beef screamers blogging hate from your comfy leather office chairs, wrapped in your fashionable leather belts above your kickin’ new leather pumps you bought because your celebrity idols (who sport fur and crocodile purses) grinned in a tabloid wearing the exact same Louboutins exiting sleek cowhide covered limo seats on their way to some liberal fundraiser shindig at some sushi bar that features poor dead smelly roe (that I used to strip from our Bristol Bay-caught fish, and in a Dillingham cannery I packed those castoff fish eggs for you while laughing with co-workers about the suckers paying absurdly high prices to party with the throw away parts of our wild seafood)? I believe you call those discarded funky eggs “caviar”.

That last paragraph is a doozy. Like William Burroughs on hillbilly heroin.

Here’s that last paragraph in beat poem format. Imagine it being read poetry club style.

Anti-Beef Screamers
a thing by Sarah

Anti-beef screamers
blogging hate from comfy leather office chairs,
wrapped in fashionable leather belts
above your kickin’ new leather pumps
you bought because your celebrity idols
(who sport fur and crocodile purses)
grinned in a tabloid
wearing the exact same Louboutins
exiting sleek cowhide covered limo seats
on their way
to some liberal fundraiser shindig
at some sushi bar
that features poor dead smelly roe
(that I used to strip from our Bristol Bay-caught fish,
and in a Dillingham cannery
I packed those castoff fish eggs for you
while laughing with co-workers
about the suckers
paying absurdly high prices
to party with
the throw away parts of our wild seafood)?

I believe
you call those
discarded
funky
eggs
“caviar”