C/O Dick Cheney Eisenhower Executive Office Building Undisclosed: Treat As Top Secret/SCI
Dear Dick Mavericuda,
I wish you wouldn’t give out My address so freely. Over the past few days I have gotten a mind-boggling number of postcards asking Me to stop this debate thingy you had last night or to whip up a miracle making you brilliant or, barring that, to strike Joe Biden deaf, dumb and dead. Obviously, I chose “none of the above” because I’m on vacation. So, look, call off your attack mooses.
I did try to watch you on the TV last night, just to see what all the hoopla was about. Unfortunately, I haven’t gotten the new cable hooked up yet. So I had to use an antenna and the reception wasn’t good. As a result, I just got a sort of general picture of the thing. It seemed like you led off with some sort of anecdote about a soccer team called “The Mavericks” who’s mothers all played hockey at some place called Fear-Fear-Fear. Then I noticed that the sound quality must not have been good where you were, because every time that lady sitting in front of you asked a question, you answered something else. There was something about the private sector being our family or vice versa, which I didn’t much understand.
The TV picture cleared up for a minute, just in time for me to catch you mentioning countries that don’t like America. I thought it was funny that you should say that, because I do a lot of travelling and you’re right. Personally, I’ve been telling people I’m Canadian for about seven years. You should try it if you ever go anywhere.
After that, the sound must have been on the fritz, because, (and you’ll laugh when you hear this), it sounded like every time you said “nuclear” it came out “nucular”. Unfortunately, it only seemed to get worse, because it sounded like you said you were “nothing but tolerant” and “fuck you, gay-boys”. I know it was a reception problem on My end, because it sounded just like Joe said the same thing. Then something about dictators hating your tolerance. I’ve got to get the cable hooked up.
At one point it sounded like you were saying that you get your military intelligence from Al Qaeda, that George Bush is great and My friend John McOldentimes is a mavericky maverick of the first water who knows how to – it almost sounded like you said “win” – a war.
You also seemed to say, and I’m sure I got this bit wrong, that Joe Biden’s wife’s reward was in Heaven. Obviously, there’s nothing in My ancestral place that doesn’t belong to Me and I do not invite strangers to visit. So, we can chalk that up to the poor reception again.
Right toward the end I had the bright idea of making Hippie Jesus hold the aerial and the picture miraculously cleared up. Should have thought of that from the start, eh? Just in time to hear you promise to take up the mantle of My old hunting buddy, Dick Cheney. I’m no Constitutional scholar, but I’d say, sure – all four branches should be co-equal. Your idea that the VP should have just as much power as Congress, the Courts and the President seems fair to Me, but then, I don’t vote.
I thought your answer to the last question, “What is your Achilles Heel,” was very good, and subtly put, I might add. By answering “McCain is a Maverick,” you pithily let everyone know that you don’t have any weaknesses, but Oldy McOldster sure holds you back, you-betcha. Well played.
So, aside from the piss-poor reception, it wasn’t too boring an evening for Me. However, tell your pit-bulls to quit writing Me. Reading their postcards makes My brain hurt. You wouldn’t believe how many of them led off with “I love Sarah”, segued into “she’ll save all the babies that Barack Hussein Obama eats” and ended with “everyone but me is nuts”. I hope they, and you, can get in a bit of vacation time soon. It’ll do you a lot of good.
Wish You Were Here,