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Wednesday, October 27, 2004
October 28, 2004
President George W. Bush
The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
Washington DC 20500

Dear Mr. President,

If You had told me a month ago that my mail-in ballot would still be sitting on my desk waiting to be filled out, I would have said You were a stupid, arrogant, grandiose madman. But here we are, 5 days before the election, and here my battered ballot still sits.

A few days ago, I told You about the first time I tried to vote for You. Remember how Viola’s cat Boomer knocked my pencil out of Your oval and I voted for the Flip-Flopping Frenchman by accident? Then, remember how I erased it, but then Viola knocked my pencil into the Flip-Flopping Frenchman’s oval again?

It’s been a few days, and I still haven’t voted. Here’s why:

380 Tons of Explosives in Iraq Stolen from Under Our Noses by Terrorists!

I’ve been worried sick! I haven’t slept for 3 nights! I also haven’t voted, because I was sure You’d call off the elections. We can’t let the Flip-Flopping Frenchman be president while there are 380 Tons of Explosives in enemy hands! National Security!

“Our President will make us SAFE!” I thought. “He’ll cancel the elections.”

So You can imagine my surprise when I saw You continuing to campaign, signalling the elections were still on! There you were, talking to thousands of fans who had signed a Loyalty Oath so they could come and adore You! Here’s what You were saying:

“We have seized or destroyed more than 400,000 tons of munitions including explosives at a thousands of different sights." And:

“A political candidate who jumps to conclusions without knowing the facts is not a person you want as your commander in chief."

Isn’t that the truth?

Anyway, this morning I saw the writing on the wall: You weren’t planning to cancel the elections after all. So I thought: “I’d better vote!”

I sat down at my desk to do my solemn duty. I laid out my ballot, set my little American flag in its stand in front of me, and sharpened my No. 2 pencil.

I was about to fill in the oval next to George W. Bush, President, when all of a sudden, I felt a vice-like grip on my wrist--and it was pulling me toward John F. Kerry, President!

I fought with every fiber of my being! I grabbed my wrist with my left hand and tried to pull it back toward Your oval! While I was wrestling with this unseen foe, I heard a voice in the air. The voice was Yours! Here’s what I heard You say:

“I’M A UNITER, NOT A DIVIDER!”

The grip on my wrist was superhuman! I tried with all my might to resist its force!

“YOU’RE WITH US OR YOU’RE AGAINST US!”

We fell backwards in my chair and we were on the floor--this invisible nemesis and I--still straining in a death-locked dance, fighting for a small oval of territory that lay crumpled beside us, my No. 2 pencil poised to prevail or perish!

“FAMILIES IS WHERE OUR NATION FINDS HOPE, WHERE WINGS TAKE DREAM!”

“AH-H-H-H-H-H-H-H-H!!!!!........” I cried out in despair, as I was overcome by a power far greater than myself!

* * * * * *

I lay shaken for I don’t know how long--buried under a barrage of books and papers and furniture strewn every which way. The only sound was the thumping of my heart and the ominous ticking of the clock.

“Carl!” It was Viola. “What on earth are you doing?!”

“Voting,” I said.

I dug myself out of the mess and dusted myself off. I reached down to pick up my ballot, and that’s when I was stricken with a new horror! The oval next to John Kerry was once again filled in and the oval by My President remained a big, white goose egg!

By the time I got done erasing the oval by the Flip-Flopping Frenchman’s name for the third time, I had worn a hole all the way through. My sacred script, sullied and destroyed. I’ll have to go to my precinct to get a new “provisional” ballot.

Don’t worry, Sir! Time is short, but I’ll come through! After all my struggles, voting for You will be that much sweeter! I’ll get it done this weekend. I promise!

Every Vote Counts! Count Every Vote!
Especially Republican Votes!

Sincerely,
Carl Estrada

 

 
 
 
 
 


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