Some of you have had the pleasure of meeting my goldfish, Sarah Palin. It is with regret that I share the tragic news that today, Sarah left us for the big fishpond in the sky.
Although, like the former governor’s term in office, my Sarah’s life was cut short, it was long on accomplishment. Like her namesake, Sarah was pretty, frequently pregnant, of questionable intelligence, and a leader among lower-order life forms. The other goldfish followed her blindly, frequently against their best interest, and usually into the filter.
What will I remember most about Sarah? Her maverickiness, of course. Many times I rescued her from that filter, and finally I devised a safety net to keep her out. But, unlike her human counterpart, Sarah was never one to give up. In the end, after months of training her crosshairs on the filter, that mavericky crusader drill-baby-drilled her way through, only to be retrieved this morning, belly up.
Can it really be true that no longer will she eat fish food from my hand in a joyful game of candidate and corporate donor, that I will never again hear her tell her favorite joke about the difference between a goldfish mom and a barracuda, or see her sparkling scales glistening in the sun like a pair of thousand dollar boots as she sashays through the water, casting her trademark playful wink my way? You betcha.
Sarah is survived by the young she did not eat, Trig, Track, and Bristol, and by a number of male fish who may or may not be her husband(s). Her earthly remains have been flicked into the flowerbed, where, in death as in life, she will selflessly sacrifice herself, her mortal corpus serving as an instrument of nourishment for the growth of beautiful things, unless a raccoon gets to her before she turns too rank. Please join me in the prayer that, unlike the other Sarah Palin, she will not continually return to haunt us.
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Your bereaved friend,