I got a letter in the mail from Sarah Palin. It was addressed to me - Leighann Lord - not Resident, Occupant or Home Owner. Given the current housing crisis, the latter salutation might have been supremely presumptuous. The return address simply said Sarah Palin; No city, state or zip; not even a zip plus four. I guess Sarah is like Santa Claus. The post office just knows where to find her.

The letter opened with:

"Dear Friend,"

Okay, let's stop there.

Admittedly, I'm horrible with names and not much better with faces, but I don't believe Sarah and I run in the same circles. I have not seen her at my book club meetings. I have not had the pleasure of pummeling her in my kick boxing class. I know she went to a lot of colleges, but none of them were mine. I only went to one.

We are separated by a lot more than six degrees. I doubt if even Kevin Bacon has an easy link to Sarah. We aren't even Face Book friends. We're not connected on My Space, Hi5 or Linked In. I have seen some of her work on Your Tube though . . . oh wait, that was Tina Fey.

Given that Sarah started her letter with a falsehood, I felt no need to read further, but curiosity got the better of me. It said:

"I personally want to say thank you for the steadfast support and unstinting generosity you have given to the Republican Party and all of our candidates."
Okay, friends. This is worse than I thought. Either my alter ego is a card carrying, money giving Republican -- she's not, I asked (actually my alter ego is very fond of Ralph Nader, but that's another story) - or someone has stolen my identity and is making unauthorized donations in my name. Why can't I get a normal identity thief who just wants to buy a flat screen TV at Best Buy?

In a past life, I might have Pay Paled Abraham Lincoln a couple of dollars, post emancipation and pre assassination, but other than that I have never knowingly given money to the Republican Party. Quite frankly, I never thought they needed it. Maybe they'd have some extra ducats in the kitty if they didn't spend money buying bad mailing lists or expensive outfits at Neiman Marcus. (Really Sarah? $150,000 on campaign accessories?) As far as I know, the wife of Joe Six Pack cobbles together her ensemble from Target, JC Penney and Forever 21.

I showed the letter to my husband and he was hurt. To date, he - a registered Republican - has received no correspondence from his friend, Sarah, although if he had, he probably would have burned it. My Sweetie is a bit disenchanted at the moment with the right wing wacko take over of his party. It also helps that I whisper in his ear when he's sleeping, "McCain is insane. No drama with Obama."

I don't feel bad about this. When we dated, he promised me he would switch to the Independent Party. That was his idea of sweet talk and I fell for it. I was young, in love and a sucker for bipartisan promises.

Any who, my friend, Sarah, was not writing to inquire about my health, wish me well on my career or even ask me for grand-baby name suggestions. No, she was soliciting money from me to help the McCain-Palin campaign.

"So please rush back your Emergency Pledge of $5,000, $2,500, $1,000, $500, $100 or $50 to McCain-Palin Victory 2008 in the postage-paid envelope I've enclosed with my letter today."

Normally, I'm all for using money to influence and corrupt the political process, but I'm shocked. I thought Republican's - as a rule - were allergic to handouts. Wouldn't my donation be akin to political welfare? I couldn't do that to my friend, Sarah. I would much rather see her and John stick by their principles and boot strap their way to the White House. That's the only way they'll learn. Besides, I'm a little short right now. All my money's tied up in the $700 billion dollar bail out.

And by the way, Sarah, it doesn't take a Washington insider to know that a real friend would have at least remembered my birthday. At the very least, an invitation to the $150,000 clothing shopping spree would have been nice, gosh darn it.

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Leighann Lord
Stand-up Comedian
www.VeryFunnyLady.com

Read my weekly humor column: www.TheUrbanErma.com

Every experienced party person knows you never leave your drink unattended. Be it glass, cup, can or mug you must be vigilant lest somebody slips you a Roofie. Even back in the day before Rohypnol was part of our everyday vocabulary you just knew if you turned your back somebody was bound to take liberties with your libation.

In my heyday I hugged my drink tighter than a running back grips a football. Nobody was sneaking in anything without my knowledge. I even hawkishly watched the bartender to be sure he wasn't in leagu e with some nefarious ne'redowell. I can honestly say that while at a party I've never drained a drink dry. If my attention wavered for a moment I would immediately abandon my beverage. I learned it was cheaper just to dance and pretend I wasn't parched.

I was at a function recently where a woman left the table and put a napkin over the top of her soda can. I think she did this out of reflex because it was a relatively nice and upscale event; not at all the type of shindig where one need worry about running the risk of a roofie. While I believe whole heartedly in the adage "better safe than sorry," I wondered how much protection a napkin would really provide. Can a would be Rohypnol Dropper be so easily foiled? Does etiquette demand that if a cup is covered he move on to an unguarded glass?

Is there an age where you no longer have to worry about being roofied? Certainly a young lady so new and fresh on the scene that she's still shiny must be on her guard, but what's the cut off? After age 60? 70? (My ego hopes that men will still want me, and not just for my money. I want to have that Lena Horne, Eartha Kitt kinda sexy well into my 90s.) The woman at the event who put the napkin over her soda can was in her mid-50s. It seemed more likely that she'd go cougar and roofie some sweet young thing in his 30s.

Some people are offended by=2 0the term Cougar. I'm not sure why. What's wrong with a mature woman being a wild cat; a creature who knows the rules of the jungle; who can hunt, chase and capture what she wants. Maybe people are concerned that as a women ages the tables turn. Instead of worrying about someone slipping something into her drink, she'll begin employing the tactic herself.

In this paradigm, however, one would think a roofie would be unnecessary. Given the dictates of human biology, men don't need much coercion when sex is in the offing. Men go willingly, nay, happily should their good fortune net them a teacher, a sugar mommy or just a good time. And this isn't mere charity work. Today's older women are looking fabulous! No longer does my gender need to quietly toddle off to the land of moo-moos and orthopedic shoes. There are a plethora of hot mamas over 40 who are putting 20 year olds to shame.

But the same biology that drives men to seize the punani pay day may also make them hesitant to move from hunter to hunted. It's not a position they're used to. I envision young men at parties clutching their rum and cokes, casting suspicious glances at the seasoned women on the prowl. The men worry, "Will that Silver Fox at the bar slip me a roofie if I glance away from my glass? Will she use me, abuse me and cast me aside?" Only if you're lucky, Baby. But if you're not ready,=2 0Fellas, don't worry. Any self respecting Cougar will pass you by if you put a napkin over your drink. That's proper roofie etiquette and a Cougar is nothing if not a lady.

Leighann Lord
Stand-up Comedian
www.VeryFunnyLady.com

Read my weekly humor column: www.TheUrbanErma.com