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Wednesday, September 01, 2004
September 2, 2004
Senator John Kerry
304 Russell Senate Office Building
Washington, DC 20510

Dear Senator Kerry,

I have a personal favor to ask you: Could you please drop out of the race? Also, Edwards. Ask him to drop out too.

The problem is my wife, Viola. I don’t know what’s gotten into her since you started running. She walks around the house wearing a Kerry baseball cap and Kerry buttons, and she stuck a Kerry/Edwards bumper sticker on our car. When I tell her she should be loyal to Our President, she starts chanting, “No More Years! No More Years!”

I think she’s Undecided.

Anyway, last Saturday, Viola said she was too tired to go to the Moose Lodge picnic, so I went by myself. When I came home, there was a note on the kitchen table:

Gone to NY. Demonstrating at Republican Convention. Will be back Friday. Meatloaf in the microwave. Love, Viola

I was frantic! What got into my wife? The only demonstration she’s ever been to in her life was a pie baking demonstration, and even then, she sat in the back and never made a peep. I only had one thought in my mind: Find Viola!

Also, I had to find her soon so I wouldn’t miss the convention!

I grabbed my coat and toothbrush, jumped in the car and headed straight for the airport. I dashed through the terminal, bought a one-way ticket, went through security, then fidgeted while I watched FOX-News on the overhead TV and waited for my plane.

Just when Bill O’Reilly was telling his liberal guest to shut up, three men in suits and sunglasses approached me. The short, squat one said, “Mr. Estrada, I am Officer Kopp, Homeland Security. Will you please come with us?”

They led me into a private room with a long table, four chairs, and pale green, bare walls. “Sit down, Mr. Estrada,” Officer Kopp took off his shades. “I’ll be direct. We find it suspicious that you bought a one-way ticket to New York at the last minute, and you’re travelling with no luggage.”

“You see, Officer Kopp,” I explained. “My wife has gone to the Republican Convention to demonstrate.”

The three officers looked at each other and nodded knowingly. “Mr Estrada,” said Officer Kopp. “You’re not going to the convention to cause trouble, are you?”

“Oh no, sir!” I exclaimed. “I’m a Republican and an American! I love Our President more than life itself! All I want to do is bring my wife home in time to see Giuliani and McCain!”

The officers huddled in a corner and whispered to each other. The tall, young blonde man whose badge told me he was Sergeant Krupp approached me. “Mr. Estrada, has your wife been behaving erratically lately?”

“Yes sir,” I replied. “I must say she has.”

“Does she display John Kerry paraphenalia and go around chanting, “Two more months! Two more months!...?”

“Yes sir. I have to admit...”

The third officer, Sergeant Kramp had remained silent. Now he spoke. “Does she ever throw things at the TV when Our President is on?”

“Why yes, sir. How did you know?”

“My wife does, too. She’s broken three TV’s this year.”

“Yeah,” said Officer Kopp. “When my wife sees Our President, she says words I haven’t heard her say since our honeymoon!”

Sergeant Krupp chimed in. “My wife even made me go to one of those wacko Bushaholics Anonymous meetings! Whad’ya do, Mr. Estrada?”

I didn’t know what to say. But then Officers Kopp, Krupp, and Kramp began to worry. They hadn’t seen their wives all day. All three of them turned their backs to me, pulled out their cell phones and called home. I watched them pace around each other, their faces long and gray, as they heard their wives on the answering machines, telling them they had gone to New York to demonstrate.

“I gotta get outta here,” said Officer Kopp. “I got a plane to catch.”

“Me too,” said Krupp and Kramp.

“Does this mean I’m free to go?” I asked.

But they were gone, and I was alone in the pale green room.

I let myself out and found my way back to the terminal. I’d missed my plane, but the airline people were nice and let me fly first class on the next flight out. I got to JFK International at 6 o’clock Sunday morning and caught a cab. When I asked the cabbie to take me to Madison Square Garden, he said, “Whatd’ya nuts?! Hope ya like to walk.”

Boy, was he right! As we approached the 56th Street exit, we were blocked by a police barricade and a sea of people! The cabbie said, “This is where you get off.” I paid him and waded into the sea.

I waded and waded. I waded through mothers and fathers and grandmas and grandpas and kids. I waded through war vets and drummers and gays. I waded through rich people and poor people, naked people and chanting people. I saw priests, pierced body parts, painted faces, pig masks, purple hair and tattoos.

I didn’t know so many people were mad at Our President! I saw a picture of Him with Ronald Reagan. Under Reagan, it said: “Ron.” Under Our President it said: “More-Ron.” I saw a sign that said: “War Begins with Dubya.” But here’s what I didn’t see:


I knew she was somewhere in that four-mile crowd! I waded toward Madison Square Garden asking people, “Have you seen my wife, Viola?” Nobody had.

I searched for hours until I found myself sitting on a curb--exhausted, hungry, discouraged. Just then, hundreds of women and girls dressed in pink marched by me chanting, “Wage Peace! Wage Peace!” They wore pink hats and pink shirts and pink pants. One of them walked right up to me and handed me a pink flower! Here’s what she said: “Wage peace, brother.”

Then I heard: “Carl! What are you doing here?!”

And there was Viola, right in the middle of the pink ladies, and she was wearing pink, too! “What are you doing here?” I said, jumping up.

“I’m marching for peace with Code Pink!” she shouted above the noise. “Our leader, Starhawk says: We are the mothers, the grandmothers, the sisters, the daughters, and ordinary outraged women who are willing to be outrageous for peace! We’re the workers, students, healers, artists, writers, singers, and poets!” she chanted. “We understand the love of the Iraqi woman for her children and the driving desire of that child for life, so we are calling on women around the world to rise up and oppose the war in Iraq!”

“But Viola,” I pleaded. “Our President says...”

“Your president said ‘Mission Accomplished,’ but now he says he can’t win the war he’s bungled. Your president said, ‘Wanted: Dead or Alive,’ but now he says: ‘Osama Who?’ Your president said he didn’t believe in nation building, and now he’s wants to rule the world!

“Your president has a regressive, reactionary Christian agenda, but here at the convention, he’s hiding his fundamentalist friends while he trots out a gay rights guy, a pro-abortion guy and a groper guy to fool everybody.

“Your president is so obsessed with flip-flops, I wonder if he has a little flip-flop problem himself! Maybe you should write your president’s wife and ask her!”

Then Viola said, “Carl, go home. Your meat loaf is getting cold.”

And with that, she disappeared into a pink sea and was gone.

I’m home now and I’m really tired. I missed Giuliani and McCain. I missed Arnold and Laura. When I got home, I raced to the TV, and there was Brit Hume telling me how my Vice President and Zell Miller had knocked it out of the park. Darn! I missed Cheney.

But tomorrow is the day Our President will speak! He won’t flip and He won’t flop! He will tell the plain, simple truth that every American can understand! He’ll show everybody He’s a Strong Leader Who is Steadfast and Doesn’t Waver and has a Steady Hand on the button!

But back to my request, Senator Kerry--maybe now you can understand why I need you to drop out of the race. If Viola comes home on Friday and I can tell her that you and Edwards have pulled out, maybe we can get our lives back to normal again.

Besides, in these troubled times, we should all support Our President so He can fight His war on terrorism and make America safe!

Do the Right Thing! It’s Patriotic! It’s American! Stand By Our President!

Carl Estrada



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