Snortblog

The mind is a terrible thing. I should never play Call of Duty 4 and read the Huffington Post right before bedtime.

In my dream, I was an undercover reporter. My job was to infiltrate a new prison built in secret right here in the good ole US of A as a replacement for Guantanamo Bay Detainment Camp. I was able to get inside and tour the facilities. It was cavernous, like a warehouse, but it was still under construction and yet to be populated with the prisoners it was intended for. The McCain team was crawling all over the place. What I didn’t expect was the first detainee. Sarah Palin had been taken there, tied to a pole and presumably beaten. She still looked great, all things considered. The rumored rift between McCain and Palin was worse then I thought, but in the end, cooler heads prevailed and Sarah Palin had been released. Spunky as ever, she winked at the men and women who’d fought so hard for her freedom, telling them “you’ve got to exercise your right to torture”.

I’d seen enough. It was time to go. I left through the front gate, just barely getting clearance to leave from the commanding officer. Fortunately for me, an explosion disturbed the uneasy peace. The enemies of freedom were on the offensive. As I made my way to the awaiting driver, a helicopter began circling overhead. I noticed the laser site as it danced on the ground around me. I’d seen this movie before–I was the target. I ran to the car and we made our escape. The helicopter joined us in hot pursuit. As I tried to get a shot out the car window, I saw a group of Hispanic men in work clothes packed into the helicopter. It was a crack squad of undocumented assassins. I’d been mistaken as a Republican operative. We made our way into the Hollywood hills, where we finally arrived at the lair of one of the Liberal Hollywood Elite, Peter Fonda. As I tried to explain the imminent danger we were in, the helicopter found us and began circling overhead. Despite my urgent pleas, Peter Fonda just couldn’t accept that he was being targeted by the working class. It was up to me. I fled to the basement, readied a rocket launcher, and stepped outside. I took aim at the helicopter and fired…direct hit. The world was once again a little bit safer for democracy.