As soon as the Observer Editors heard that Sarah ("Twinkie") Palin was going into a "political boot camp" to make it possible for her to actually talk to the press without the remote shock collar she has had to wear, I knew I was in for a "special assignment" again. We were at a loss to discover the "camp's" location, until someone mentioned that McCain had houses he had forgotten about; we knew "Twinkie" would be at one of these, since McCain could claim he knew nothing about it later, having forgotten all about the house in the first place. The bonanza came when we went offshore, like so much of the Congressional pay does. First we checked the obvious places like the Cayman Islands and the Bahamas. Still nothing. Then we checked Cuba. Bingo. The Cuban Craigslist ad read: "Eunuch wanted to act as houseman, personal attendant and night-guard for high-spirited but mentally negligible female. Duties to include general step-and-fetch-it, sucking up and other psychological supportive "services" as needed. Knowledge of reflexology helpful. Must be U.S. citizen or be willing to enlist in the U.S. Armed Forces and apply for citizenship in the usual method (assuming the candidate survives it's tour of duty)."
This was it. "Firecracker" Palin would have to be watched night and day and we knew from her religious profile that she would never allow a female to see her naked, being a lifelong homo-phobe. Likewise, her religious convictions would never allow for the usual male Secret Service (SS) man to perform as personal attendant. Queens have always demanded, and gotten, eunuchs. The interview was supposed to be in Miami, but we thought it would be better to just get to Havana on our own. We made an appointment with the CNN outlet there for an interview and away we went. CNN cleared us without passports; since travel is prohibited to Cuba, we were just passed through the Guantanamo front gate and that was it. We were in Cuba. Long ago, rich Americans owned homes in Cuba. For a price that only aristocrats can afford, they can own one there even today; Castro was ever the pragmatist.
The Cuban cab was quick in coming. In fact, it was idling at the curb just outside the Guantanamo main gate. It was no trouble at all to get the McCain address; the cabbies there know all the American homes. And Soviet. I wondered if Putin and Palin were both in Havana today! The funny thing about covert ops is that nobody really ever communicates much to the lower echelons....the doorman simply took my word for it that I was there to "service" Governor Palin. He knew a "special" had been called for, but he didn't expect to be privy to the selection. It was enough that I was there, at the right door, at the right time, saying the right things. He let me in and fairly danced me up the hall.
"The Governor has been expecting you for days. They certainly didn't expect to have to get a U.S. Citizen, with all the dirt-poor Cubans here we generally use. What a fiasco! Who could guess that a Governor would balk at outsourcing!" "Just get me to the lady, Sarge. It's been a rough couple of days for me too, what with all the questions, answers and background checking. They're being a lot more careful with the "vetting" since the Gov. got picked to run with the Senator. They told me to get right on it and calm her down enough so the tutors have a chance to cram her." He just kept nodding his crew-cut as I prattled on. I thought I would show a little inside-information to make my story more credible. I went on, as we walked down long halls, through the servant's wing and on out through spacious gardens towards a smaller house on the back of the estate. "Truth is, they really want me to work her over." He looked at me, involuntarily glancing at my crotch, puzzled. I smiled back.
"No, no...not like that....massage, quite servile attendance. She doesn't know it, but they are giving her this one chance. If she can't fake intelligence by this time next week, they're going after somebody else for V.P." The doorman's head snapped up at this one, eyes wide; this was rich stuff. I let it lay. His ears quivered. He whispered, "Who is it? Do you know?" "I'm not supposed to, but he was really making a fuss about it. He was in to see You Know Who just before me, and they were pretty hard on him. Seems that they really wanted somebody like Rush Limbaugh, but with Tits. So they have Rush now, right over there in Guantanamo....if Palin poops out, its tits for the fat man. He finally agreed to the sex change when they promised him seventy-seven virgins and a real dick when he finishes the term of office.
The doorman was grinning and shaking his head in wonderment. He led me finally to the door of the back house and smiled at me. "Well, they've got it there, eh? That's perfect! The voting Republican could vote for good old Rush and show a great bit of tolerance for diversity, all the while giving the Daughters of the American Revolution someone to vote for too!" His respect for his party was deep. He let me into my new workplace with a flourish. I heard the lock snick behind me and knew getting back out was going to be rough. Standing at the top of an open staircase was the Palin object. She peered at me over bi-focals, head tilted to one side like a robin eyeing its morning worm. I decided I would need a little extra personal power to pull this one off. I smiled up at her and called out across the expansive entry hall and up into the cavernous space above me, "Hey Twink! I'm the Palace Eunuch you called for. Show me to my closet quick; they want you in high gear from here on out!"
Her face slowly hardened, her jaw set in the Palin Pose. Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. I batted my eyes at her and headed up the long staircase with the air of a man that is head of the Queen's own harem and knows it. I hoped it would work. Next week: "Educating Palin".
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