¡Que lastima, Sarah Palin! Is this the end for the heroic Alaskan everywoman, who came out of nowhere to bravely humiliate herself on the national stage in one brief flash of incomprehensible fuck-upitude? No, liberals, no. And why don't you all stop lying: you crave more Sarah Palin. She is the political equivalent of hate sex. But it's obvious now that Palin's future isn't in politics; a (winning) presidential run in 2012 is a pipe dream. Her future is in the media! She can barely speak English, but fellas sure do like to hear her anyhow. With that in mind, we present—free of charge, in the spirit of unity—the simple five-step plan for Sarah Palin's upcoming national stardom: 1. Leave Alaska. You can't even get a media job living in Philadelphia, and that's just down the road from NYC. You have to move to New York, Sarah. You'd probably like the Murray Hill area. 2. Fashion Endorsements For Wal-Mart. Remember how you gave that speech and then all these people ran out and bought the glasses you were wearing? And then you spent $150,000 on clothes and everybody paid attention? It all adds up to two words, and those words are "Fashion icon." Is moose the next hot fabric for the fall season? Why don't you tell us, by appearing in middlebrow fashion advertisements for America's top discount retailer? 3. Have An Affair. That guy you're with, the snow racer? Yea, I'm sure he's nice and everything but he's not really sizzling tabloid material. Why not go and fuck A-Rod, or possibly be spotted going down on a male hooker in the bathroom at the Beatrice Inn? These are proven techniques that can work for you. 4. Ghostwritten Column For Ladies Home Journal. What are some Pretty Pillow Projects and Bad Hair Day tips that you learned on the campaign trail? Have your ghostwriter make some up, to be published. Republican housewives eat that shit up. 5. Join the cast of The View. This is where it all ends for you, Sarah. You were never going to be President. You never had a shot to be Vice President. You never even had the potential to be a serious political figure of any magnitude outside the strange and backwards frozen state of Alaska. But with a little perseverance you could end up on a couch, on daytime television, flanked by Barbara Walters and Joy Behar, arguing about Michelle Obama's wardrobe. Embrace your destiny, Sarah Palin. Elizabeth Hasselbeck can't hang on there forever.