I got your emergency telegram. But Mav, you, of all people, ought to know that I’m on vacation. I mean, remember when you crashed your first plane and you asked Me to help? Where was I then? On vacation, that’s where. Also crashes number two, three and five. Number four wasn’t really a crash, but your plane did burn up on the flight deck and guess who didn’t help. That’s right, Me. It wasn’t your Heavenly Father who got you out of those jams, it was your Navy Father. But guess what. That well has dried up. He won’t cancel your debate Friday and neither will I.
I know that you and I are contemporaries, but that doesn’t pull any weight with Me. Really, I’m just embarrassed to see you squirming and whining. Is this the same guy who’s schoolmates called him “Fighty McNastypants”? Huh, more like “Smeary McCrybritches” from where I’m standing. On top of that, why would I want to help one of the guys who made it imperative that I change My vacation fund from US Dollars to Turkish Lira and Somali Shillings? For My sake! Get your campaign manager to stump up some of that cash Fannie & Freddie gave him and buy your way out. Try bribing Jim Lehrer with bar-b-que.
Whatever you do, leave Me alone. I’m trying to juggle vacation and packing for My move to Montreal ahead of this Depression you’ve got coming.
Speaking of; you ought to name it like they do with storms. How about Monetary Depression George? If you’re just going to keep having them, you’ll need to distinguish between them. I mean, the guy who got you out of the last one isn’t around any more, and if he were, you’d just call him a socialist and run ads about how a dirty, communist cripple can’t take care of the country. Instead of the WPA, you’ve got FEMA… and New Orleans knows how useful they are.
No, Mav, this is your jam to get out of and, frankly, I don’t think you can. However, I have done one thing for you. For My boy, Republican Jesus’ sake, I carefully chose this postcard of My old friend, Miss Piggy because I thought it would cheer you up.
Unlike your campaign, she’s one pig that will never need lipstick.
Wish You Were Here,