Hello, my dears.
Just a quick post to introduce myself because while many of you have met me before, some of you may not yet have had the honour.
My name is Sarah Howard. I’m 92 and I currently reside at the Shady Pines Home for the Violently Senile in Spokane, WA. I’m a good Catholic, Republican woman, but I hope you won’t hold that against me too much.
With the assistance of my nephew Charles and his flatmate Kevin, I have set up a little blog called Sarah, Proud and Tall, on which I share some of the more interesting and illustrative incidents from my long and busy life. If you like reading about Bill Donoghue being nobbled with a laxative-based mickey finn, or about David Brooks being cornered by a octogenarian with chronic incontinence and a rodent fetish, or about Ayn Rand being cold-cocked by Gloria Vanderbilt, then you may enjoy wandering through my archives some time.
I have been loitering around the threads in Balloon Juice for the last couple of weeks, telling the occasional little story and then looking forlorn and weeping with my face against the wall due to the lack of attention being paid to me – a little bit like Mitt Romney at the Republican Party convention.
However, my frantic blogwhoring and frequent offers of cash must have had some effect. I was sitting in the luncheon room making spitballs for Michelle Bachmann’s visit that afternoon. I should note that Shady Pines is jam-packed with wealthy, widowed Republican women. Sandra Frazer’s husband owned half of Connecticut and at least one of its Senators for most of the twentieth century, Gloria Peters was the mistress of three successive governors of Texas and poor mad Marge Albrechtson was actually on the RNC for years. As such, everyone who sets up an exploratory committee comes crawling to Spokane to try and pry our money from our liver-spotted hands.
Anyway, in the midst of my preparations, I received an email from John Cole asking me if I would be prepared to share some of my stories with you from the hallowed ground of the Balloon Juice front page. Of course, I immediately said yes. As I was flying to New York that evening in Gloria Vanderbilt’s private jet, I suggested that I visit John in West Virginia to work out the details.
Later, after Mrs Bachmann had rushed from the building, her ears red and stinging, screeching that she would set her flying monkeys on us, I grabbed my Vuitton travelcase, stuffed my tea-cup chihuahua Mr Sprinkles in the side pocket of my handbag and headed for the airport.
The flight to West Virginia was a pleasant one. Gloria had stocked up on my favorite Ossetra and her steward, Simon, was as profligate with the Laurent Perrier as he usually is. We soon landed in West Virginia, and Simon had even organized for a police escort to whisk me to John’s house.
I was thrilled to meet John who, I am pleased to say, most closely resembles a young Sean Connery, with perhaps just a hint of William Howard Taft around the edges.
Dear little Lily got up on her back legs to snuffle at my handbag, and before we knew it she and Mr Sprinkles were happily chasing each other around the yard, with Rosie staggering and panting after them like Hayley Barbour on the trail of a roast pig.
After we had tea, John even took me in to see Tunch in his special room. His huge white furry bulk was slumped in the corner, fast asleep, and his Gamorrean guards were standing on either side of him. When he purred, his whiskers shook and the wall behind us vibrated. A young dark-haired woman in a metal bikini was slumped near him. She was also asleep. A long chain was clamped around her neck and extended across to Tunch, its end clutched in one of his mighty paws.
Just then, he slowly opened one yellow and baleful eye and examined us. His purring became louder and he inclined his head in what I can only describe as a benediction. Then his eye closed and he fell back to sleep as we backed carefully out of the room.
We had another nice cup of tea and then I went on my way to New York.
I can’t upload a picture of Mr Sprinkles because I am working from my iPad, but I will share one as soon as I can because I know you lot love the dog pictures.
Tonight, Gloria and I are off to see “Atlas Shrugged” and throw Medicare-subsidized cancer medication at the screen. I’ll try to report in tomorrow to tell you what it was like.
All my love,