THE WHITE HOUSE
15 SEPTEMBER 1987
My Most Loving Nancy:
I still love my nickname for you, my Mommie Poo Pants! Tee hee.
Squidgy widgy, oooky poooky, my little snookums. I lovey dovey you.
Hasn't our life turned out wondy-wondy-ful? Here I am in the Ovey-wovey Office bombing all sorts of 3rd world parasites, running the national debt to levels beyond belief even tho I said I'd get rid of it, and you're upstairs now planning a huge party, I'd bet.
My little ookum-snookums. Maybe we can have creamed corn tonight? Hee heee hee.
And just imagine, our only mistakes in 50 years of marriage have been a ballerina-boy and a ungrateful little slut who hangs out with rock stars who criticize us daily, both of whom cash-in on my accomplishments in life rather than blaze their own trails. Fuck 'em both, I say.
Well, my love muffin, I'm thinking of releasing Top Seecee Weekee Documents that provide indisputable proof of the identity of who ordered Kennedy killed. Hee heee hee. Rose is still living, too! I wonder which agency will arrest her!
Your loving Husband,
Ronnie
Foot of Mount Sinai
8,000 BCE
My Brother Moses:
Look, I've been patient as hell during your burning bushes and that parting the sea trick, but you've gone way too fucking far now and I'm about sick of it all!
You inconsiderate fuck! You leave me here with all these whining idiots, go away and do God-knows-what for a month, only to come back and tell me ADULTRY IS OUT? Just who the fuck do you think you are, Moses, God's Gift!! You can kiss my ass and fuck a camel if you want, but don't even consider depriving me of the only consolation I have in this God forsaken fucking desert!
Go to Hell!
Your Brother,
Aaron
November 23, 1994
Washington, D.C.
The Honorable Clarence Thomas
The United States Supreme Court
Dear Justice Thomas:
I find myself virtually tormented day and night by a past transgression to which I must now confess if I am ever to live with a clear conscious. In doing so, I trust that I may have your forgiveness.
You see, Judge, it was my pube on the Coke can.
Yours,
Barney Frank
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C.D., notgnihsaW
mmmmmmooO. mmmmmmooooO. mmmmmmmmoO. mmmmmmoooooooO. mmomomommomomoooooooO.
,sruoY
George W. Bush
Post Script Added by Another:
I'd just like to say, Mr. Buddha boy, that nasty rumors about my son's dyslexia do not become you. Go smoke a cigarette!
George H.W. Bush
