Not Cool, Arpaio

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Ya know, Joe, when we started our little thing you told me you were good at keeping things on the DL. Well, that's the last time I believe some power-mad Arizona prick like you. Oh, you start cracking down on your border with Mexico and all of a sudden you're some untouchable mayor of everything who can reveal other people's secrets without consequence? Seriously, Joe, I expected better out of you. Damn it, Joe, I gave you those pink panties so you could feel close to me while I was on the trail stumping for my Tea Party allies. And because you asked me for them. And because, all things considered, they really weren't fit to wear anymore. Not so you could wave them around like some kind of victory flag.

Really, what are you, a frat boy? Is Maricopa County just one, big college campus? When a woman takes time out of her busy schedule of being one of the most important political figures in the world to have a casual, discreet fling with a hard-nosed desert Sheriff, she expects to be treated like more than some silly conquest. It was in bad taste for you to bring those panties to a public event and I frankly find it rather off-putting that you carried those old things in your pocket all day. I know for a fact that you didn't wash them since I gave them to you. I recognized the grape jelly and sandalwood incense.

I mean, you'd have to be pretty arrogant to think having those panties made you special. I'll have you know that you're not the first, nor the last, person in this world to receive the official Sarah Palin Badge of Hot Honor. No, not by a long shot. I've seen past liaisons do some strange things with my old undies, from the Senator who cast them in bronze, to the Canadian diplomat who had them vacuum sealed in a custom museum case, to the European occultist who burned them in a ritual of the four elements in a misguided attempt to curse me in 2007. All of them shall remain nameless. Nameless, Joe. As in "not broadcast to the entire ever-loving world".

What really gets me about your silly display is that you don't exactly have much to be proud about. Maybe that dry desert weather gets you dehydrated and tired, but I recall your performance being a little less than enthusiastic. Your history is probably populated with a bunch of stupid girls who thought you were the bee's knees just because you've got a title and remind them of their daddies. Me? I'm not so easily impressed. When you step up to the plate with The Bulldog, you've gotta have some Mark McGwire power at the ready, and I'm talking the post-steroids years. Well, I've got it right here in my little book (you remember my book, the black one with a blue border), Joe Arpaio only hobbled into home once and it was on accident because his sidearm accidentally discharged and gunfire turns me on.

Oh, and Joe... the fact that you're using those pink handcuffs I bought for us on your prisoners is just sick.