Dear John McCain…

They're not so constrictiong.

P.O. Box 16118 Arlington, VA 22215

Dear John,

  I know I told you this when you were in that detox camp, or whatever it was, in Southeast Asia all those many years ago, but I guess I have to remind you:  I am not your father.  I will not make everyone forget about the things you used to stand for and embrace the things you now stand for.  I’m on vacation.  And even if I weren’t, you can’t make the rules and then break them.  However, I will give you some fatherly advice, in honor of the holiday.

  If you and your little friends are going to say that it’s against the rules for your little playmates to ever change their minds, well, you have to follow that rule, too.  On a personal note, I worry that you won’t be around by next Father’s Day, so let Me pass along this little anti-aging tip:  Virgin blood.  Works wonders.  My old pal Moloch used to say “I love the smell of virgin blood in the morning, it smells like victory.”  Of course, that’s not the sort of thing you can say in polite company these days, which reminds me… I’d stop the salty navy talk if I were you.  Only followers of my old college roommate can really get away with talking like pirates.  Oh, and one last thing.  As a pretty darn good writer once said, “To thine own self be true.”

  Or don’t… whatever.  What do I care?  I’m on vacation.

Wish You Were Here,



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