MAYDAY!! Mayday!! Ammogate attack!! Anchorage adrift!! Todd takes the Fifth!! Wayne washes Jojo's mouth with Second Amendment soap!! 911 for my 401k!! Doggie derivatives dissolve!! The Sarah Pee rains on Commie peons!!

I am in so much trouble!! I am writing this as my last will and testimony to my millions of bff's on Facebook and petcopooperscooper.woof. Somehow I bet all my marbles on the whole Africa is nothing but one big ole country bus, and I am riding it, as we speak, into some godless forsaken Commie stronghold somewhere across the Bering Sea from "the mother ship" as Todd lovingly refers to his Alaska stomping grounds.

I was totally prepared to limp back to Texas when I realized that Bear Stearns tanking right in the middle of the damn campaign was the coup de greed for Johnny Mac and his subprime dreams. We were having a good ole time drinking champagne shots from empty Remington 40 ought 6 slugs at Neeman's New Guns & Ammo Beta Boutique when the news was delivered by some jocular guy dressed in a cammo tux and Basspro duck boots.

And, by the way, that big tab Sarah P ran up at Neeman's? That was mainly for the silver-studded shotguns and ammo Todd purchased for the friends of Todd, who testified on his behalf at Troopergate. And, I am telling ya, Sarah P was totally pissed at "little Todd" for screwing up that whole brother in law mess. Turns out that Sarah P had told him to "handle it" and he thought she meant to fire his unloyal ass.

According to Willy C, who has become extremely tight with "Todd and the Peester," that was Alaska Mafiosa code for icing the toady trooper.

When she found out he had totally exhausted their Neeman's line of credit on guns & shells for his friends, she blew up bigtime!! They had it out right there in front of the special life-sized wax and whale blubber reproduction of the Guns and Ammo CEO, Wayne Lepeep. Todd was furious cause Sarah P took a swing at him, missed, and clocked old Wayne (the real-life version) right in the middle of his newly refurbished schnoz. Man, blood started spurting everywhere, and ole Wayne started crying like a little baby.

Turns out, Sarah had slipped on a pair of 100% Afrikaner chrome brass knuckles on to beat the tar out of Todd, so Wayne viciously accused her of abusing her Second Amendment rights, right there in the very tony vibes of the G&A Boutique grand opening.

So when the polls started going south for Johhny Mac and the Peester, I naturally thought it was due to the B-S subprime debacle. Wrong!! After that Wayne Lepeep took out his nose job anger on the whole dang populist or bust campaign and withdrew all G&A funding to Todd and his out-of-control "loser abuser." And, to add insult to blogger injury, he leaked out very bad stuff about the Neeman's soiree to the dreaded Dredge Report.

So Sarah P decided after the campaign to make nice with the Waynester. Result? A special helihunt in a big dawg Alaskan National Guard Apache chopper across the Bering Strait into Commie airspace. Much more exciting to shoot Russian Caribou, per the Peester, and Wayne bought it hook, line, and sinker (although I use that last word very gingerly, as you will surmise from my alleged mission-critical role on the hunt).

Bottom-line: Wayne bags a caribou moose from the chopper (with a special G&A AK-47 spraying the herd with American hollow-point steel per the Peepster), while Willy Clinton, the soon-to-be-exiled Todd, and your tremulous servant are dispatched to retrieve the moose from Russky soil. How you might ask? Well, Sarah had a special autopilot drone retrofitted and painted with the official Alaska seal to seat 3 beefy males. Our mission was to buzz the herd and somehow pick up the Commie caribou shot up by big Wayne's rain of steel.

Of course, Willy C wanted to pilot the sucker, and I was wearing my special Texas death match mask to protect my identity in case we were captured. My role? To pronounce the moose dead as a doornail. Why did I accept? To be honest, I was up for any position that paid me in cash that was backed by plenty of verifiable oil and gas reserves. I owed Petco way more money than I care to talk about after Willy C talked me into buying doggie derivatives based on the price of Purina puppy chow futures in Dubai.

All I can tell you is that Willy had consumed way too many twizzlers on the chopper, and he had a sugar buzz that clouded his judgment "more than all that Whitewater stuff." Those were his last words to me as we prepared to crash land the drone somewhere on the Siberian wing of the Russian continent. That was when I realized the Sarah Pee (as Sarah's Neeman-Marcos account manager who sold Sarah the Christmas drone fondly labeled our mission ship) was leaking American-no make that Alaskan-oil on Russky soil. Irony? You be the judge, though Todd's last words cannot be printed without multiple bleeps that would suck the life out of their meaning and violate his First Amendment rights to death with G&A dignity.