The Vetting of Sarah Palin: An Insider's Account

Community (This content is not subject to review by Daily Kos staff prior to publication.)

Friday September 05, 2008 · 11:06 AM PDT

2008/09/05 · 11:06

August 30, morning
Boss has a job for me - vetting the new VP candidate. Guess that fucking mouthbreather Joe is out of the picture, thank God.

Anyway, have to fly to Alaska (?!) and check up on this "Sarah Palin". Sounds fine to me - means I won't be here to answer phones when Lieberman starts calling every 15 minutes, drunk and crying. Jesus, I can't stand that guy.

August 30, noon
Landed in Wasilla, Palin's hometown. Christ, what a dump. Small town though - drooling goobers in the base will eat that shit up.

Would have landed at Ketchikan International Airport, but found out would have to take a ferry to the mainland. WTF? Why don't they build a goddamn bridge or something?

tripletee

Community (This content is not subject to review by Daily Kos staff prior to publication.)

Monday April 14, 2008 · 11:20 AM PDT

2008/04/14 · 11:20

The Clinton campaign has faced questions about Hillary's bona fides regarding guns and religion. These exclusive excerpts from the diary of Hillary Clinton, age 9, should put those questions to rest.

April 11, 1957

Dear God,

Had a great day today! After church, Pa took me out huntin' and I bagged a turkey, three whitetails, a coon and a badger. Pa even let me use the Winchester. He says I'm such a good shot that he'd buy me a new gun all my own if we was rich like them snobs what live in town.

Got to go say my prayers now and go to bed. Tomorrow's a big day at school. 'Night, God.

tripletee

Community (This content is not subject to review by Daily Kos staff prior to publication.)

Friday April 11, 2008 · 5:19 PM PDT

2008/04/11 · 17:19

The highway unspooled before us like a dark thread in a vast swath of khaki. The unforgiving sun ritually punished the land, raising ghostly, shimmering waves above the endless sand and thick blooms of sweat under Toby Keith's arms.

"Jesus Christ," he drawled, slumping onto his seat in the back of the Humvee and fanning himself with his cowboy hat. "It's hotter'n a goat's butt in a pepper patch."

"Ain't that the truth," rumbled Larry the Cable Guy from the other rear seat. He too had dark half-moons under the arms of his cutoff shirt, and sweat beaded on his round face like dew on a lumpy cantaloupe. "Mat'r fact, it's hotter'n two rats humpin' in a wool sock."

I ignored the banter, too distracted by the passenger side mirror and the unfamiliar visage it reflected back at me. Thick, angry runnels of ravaged flesh covered half my face, giving it an unnerving melted appearance. The disguise was perfect; the face would be instantly memorable but no one would ever suspect who I really was. No one else knew I was here; no records would ever trace me to this place. I would be a ghost, a rumor shared in the mess hall and the barracks, a deadly whisper in the dark of night. Just the way I liked it.

tripletee

Community (This content is not subject to review by Daily Kos staff prior to publication.)

Tuesday April 01, 2008 · 11:30 AM PDT

2008/04/01 · 11:30

Three a.m. in the Belfast Hills.

We crept silently along the path, two shadowy figures fading in and out of the surrounding darkness as clouds scudded across the harsh sliver of moon above. Occasionally the soft wind would deliver a brief snatch of muttered conversation, too low to be intelligible, from our quarry ahead.

We had been tracking them for half an hour, hoping they would lead us to any allies they had in the area. Intel pegged them as dead-enders, wannabes looking to make a splash by disrupting the delicate peace negotiations. We were here to make sure that didn’t happen.

Another murmur of conversation from ahead, sharper this time. I snapped a closed fist up, heard a faint rustle of grass behind me as my companion froze. I reached down, began to slide my trusty ka-bar from -

Strong hands gripped my arms from behind, pinning them in place. I knew instantly that it wasn't Bono; he had slim, girlish singer's hands, and I had felt their touch often enough to recognize the difference.

Ambush.

tripletee for Daily Kos

Community

Wednesday March 26, 2008 · 8:54 PM PDT

2008/03/26 · 20:54

(From the diaries. kos)

Note from tripletee: I wasn't expecting this to get front-paged (thanks Kos!), or I would have made it clear that yes, I'm the original author. I originally posted it in a comments thread at Balloon Juice where I go by the handle tBone - see here. I saw it being posted at a few other places over the past couple of days, so I thought I might as well finally put this account to use and post it here too. Sorry for any confusion.

As bullets clawed the air around us and screams echoed down the rubble-strewn tarmac, I felt almost peaceful.

It was a simple mission, they had told me - get in, shake a few hands and mouth a few platitudes, get out. Simple. Yeah.

Things had started going wrong while we were still in the air and only gotten worse from there. So here we were, pinned down, choking on the acrid tang of cordite and the heady scent of human blood. The mission was even simpler now: survive. Whatever the cost, survive.

RSS

The Vetting of Sarah Palin: An Insider's Account

Are You There, God? It's Me, Hillary

Hot Sand, Red Rain: The War Journals of Hillary Clinton, Vol. 3

Sunday Bloody Sunday: The War Journals of Hillary Clinton, Vol. 2

The War Journals of Hillary Clinton, Vol. 1