Friday, June 30, 2006
June 25, 2006
Donald H. Rumsfeld
Secretary of Defense
1000 Defense Pentagon
Washington, DC 20301-1000
Dear Secretary Rumsfeld,
Well bash my buffaloes and bang my broom!
I’ve seen a lot in my livelong life, but I never thought I’d see the day when I’d be writin a levitatin letter to old Don Rumsfeld hisself, the scintillatin Secretary of War in the U.S. of A.! (That’d be United Shooters of Ammo.)
Well, Big Guy, the reason I’m writin you is I hear yer havin some mortifications over there in I-rak, and I wanna help you out. Yer Sergeant Gene Steger says he’s gonna give a 20k bonus if’n we sign up and a 40k bonus if’n we fight. Sergeant Steger says the bonuses are “just cream cheese on the bagel.”
Well sir, I say, “Pass the cream cheese!”
Only one pecker of a problem and here it is: You just raised the sign-up age again--this time to 42. Well, that leaves me lonelier’n a thumbtack cuz between me, you, an’ Dad, I’d be around 48. I hope you kin make an exception for me, cuz I really need that cream cheese.
Bet yer wonderin who Dad is. Well, it’s all right there in yer Book of Bob. See, Dad come to Bob an’ told him to take dictation fer His new book. Then Dad sends Bob out to be his P.R. guy. An’ who’s the first gobblin guy Bob calls on to be His Carrier Pigeon? Well, it’d be yer own trusted truly.
Which is why you need me to wallop yer war over there in I-rak. I been Dad’s Devoted Defender--now I want to be Donald’s Decimatin Destroyer! Only one other pesky problem and here it is: I ain’t got no leapin legs.
And that ain’t no fabrication of a fact! I lost ‘em over there in the East World when I was fightin fer freedom fer the Free Nation. I was fightin ‘em over there so’s we wouldn’t have to fight ‘em here. They come over here anyhow, but it turns out they didn’t take away our fallutin freedom after all. They just opened a bunch of restaurants.
I hear them restaurants are pretty good, but I wouldn’t know cuz I ain’t got no money cuz the government cut off my benefits just like they lopped off my limbs! So here I sit, hacked off an’ homeless as a hedgehog with herpes, an’ all I wants to do is go over there to I-rak and be one of Rumsfeld’s Riotin’ Rampagers an’ fight the I-rakees over there so they don’t come over here an’ open a bunch of I-rakee restaurants. Except for one picky problem:
I ain’t no citizen of the U.S. of A. And I ain’t foolin’ with factoids! I’m a natural born citizen of the Free Nation an’ prouder’n a pallbearer! But the way I figger, lots of soldiers of “undisclosed nationality” go over there to I-rak an’ come home in a box. So forget what I said about me being a Free Nationer--just say I ain’t got no nameable nationality an’ I’ll go over there an’ fight yer weasely war for you faster’n you can say, “Take off the gloves!”
If’n ya wanna know more about me, it’s all right there in yer Book of Bob. Just say the word and I’ll bust you over a copy fast’n you can say, “War criminal!”
Cream cheese on my bagel! Pickles on my pie! Cow’s tongue on my corn bread! Sign me up!
Dad’s Carrier Pigeon
The Free Nation