Entry: August 26th 2009 (from notes)
Add Comment*Mrs. Palin has deemed her schedule too hectic for today's entry, so she has charged me, Bernard Magnusson III, with compiling her notes on recent events into a coherent narrative in her distinct voice. I shall do my level best in what would surely be a Herculean task were the Hera of myth more cruel by a half. Given time constraints, I will also keep my own journal in tandem. Dear Diary, Wow-wee! Life sure has gotten interesting since I hung up my governor hat and started looking for a whole new, for my head, the thing that I'll have been wearing, a hat from this great country of ours. I haven't been this busy since Trig was just a precious little infant blessing. *I woke with the sun this morning, as I have without fail since taking my current position in the retinue of Mrs. Sarah Palin. Though I have tried to sway her opinions, Mrs. Palin continues to insist on the consumption of four robin eggs, fried medium, upon waking each day. After risking life and limb to procure these ova for six days, I considered the possibility that Mrs. Palin's gastronomic eccentricity stemmed not from a meticulous palate, but from a fascination with the color blue. I have hence begun dyeing four common chicken eggs each morning since Mrs. Palin failed to notice any difference in flavor or texture. I shall have to wait until tomorrow for confirmation of this method, as Mrs. Palin rose at noon today and cannot be expected to function at capacity on a mere 14 hours rest. I've just got so much on my plate right now. It sure is a good thing I wasn't voted Vice President because I don't know when I'd have the time to do all the things that I go do all day. Between the book and the talk shows and the tapes for the TV executive people, it's a wonder I just don't collapse! *The entire entourage has been trapped in Holmby Hills, California for three days now. The RV is simultaneously our prison and our refuge. Mrs. Palin rarely ever ventures here from her own private trailer. Where there were five of us, now there are only four. Mrs. Palin fired poor Timothy after he attempted to explain to her that Aaron Spelling, at whose former residence we have been camped since Sunday, has not been among the living since 2006. Grant, the ghostwriter, is morbidly giddy at this most recent development. He has been traveling with Mrs. Palin the longest. He made no attempt to suppress a grin as Mrs. Palin forced me to act as the camera man for the pilot of her proposed television program, tentatively titled "Main Street Americans with Sarah Palin". In fact, I don't even have time to keep my own diary today. That's alright. I'll just get Bernie to do it. He'll make it sound great with that accent of his. I'm so glad I went with the English one instead of that oriental fella. Good job, Sarah! High five! *A few minutes before midnight, Mrs. Palin's cell phone rang. It was little Piper, asking for her mother after experiencing a nightmare. Outside the window of the RV I could see Mrs. Palin rattling the gates of the quite empty Spelling estate. As far as Piper, little angel that she is, knows, her mother was busy doing very important things for the good of the country. I let Mrs. Palin continue on her Quixotic endeavor and I made sure her daughter got reassurance that dreams are just that, dreams and nothing more. Does it really matter who tells her?
