Today, July 25, is your last day to start or renew - - - - |
G A B E H U D S O N ' S [Write a letter to the president.] - - - - [Gabe Hudson, a McSweeney's editor-at-large - - - - [These letters were compiled by Gabe Hudson, Jessica Rabinowitz, and Kevin Feeney.] - - - - Dear Mr. President, I'm doing great. Thanks for asking. Sincerely, - - - - Dear Mr. President, I am a 19-year-old young man from St. Paul, MN. In various moments throughout my life I've beat the odds. I was born four months prematurely with the doctors' soothing voices preparing my mother for the disappointment of a miscarriage. I had a 4 percent chance of surviving without being a vegetable. I beat the odds. I am also an Eagle Scout. Only 4 percent of Boy Scouts achieve the rank of Eagle. I feel it is my duty, not as an American, but as a compassionate human being to do what is right, and in doing so, reluctantly, I cannot vote for you this upcoming election. Your errors in office hold the world at risk, and it is up to Americans to elect someone who rids the world of evil men, and never creates them. Sincerely, - - - - Dear Mr. President, I have a wonderful idea for solving the budget deficit: corporate sponsorship. While Major League baseball might not be ready for "Spider Man 2" logos on the bases, the White House could bring in some badly needed revenue to cover our collective mistake in that dusty old country in the middle of the Middle East. You could incorporate corporate advertising into all facets of daily life, from toothbrushes to tiny little logos patched on the sleeves of your suits. Perhaps with your bold leadership and determined vision for the future of this world, the people of America might not be so angry about little spider webs adorning the clean white bases of our fields of dirt and grass. Play Ball! Sincerely, - - - - Dear Mr. President, My friend Pat has five million butts. My other friend Pat winks at girls. I like the clarinet and the even distribution of resources. Sincerely, - - - - Dear Mr. President, I go to Bennington College in Bennington, Vermont, and sometimes I am a little uncomfortable because I was raised Southern Baptist and a lot of the people here ask me to go to Planned Parenthood marches in New York City and things like that. I think my family is a little like yours, but I don't think my brother is going to have the same job as my dad. Also, I don't know if you have a sister. I thought I would write to tell you that this morning, instead of going back to sleep after I interviewed for a position on the Orientation Committee, I had breakfast with some friends, walked another to the art building, and then rode a communal bike down the hill from the science building to my house. While I was doing this, I didn't think about soldiers or lay-offs or Iraq or the "Most Wanted" deck of playing cards. The temperature was nice and I rode up the hill six more times just so I could ride down again. I would suggest that you try this if you have a hill anywhere near where you live. Sincerely, - - - - Dear Mr. President, We're not so different, you and I. I, too, own a ranch in Texas. And my only comfort when I think about your administration is that everyone I've spoken to here, most of whom are lifelong Republicans, hates you and has decided to vote against you in the upcoming election. So I'm writing to express my concern, nay outrage, nay super-outrage, about the hundreds of dead or displaced Iraqi citizens. The radio says this is the bloodiest month since your poorly organized war began. You indecent bastard. Excuse me, my fingers are out of control. Why must I type with a furor that may shred the little white letters off of the black keys? Because I am furious that you have done this harm in the name of liberation and dangerous weapons. Sick of those damn WMDs being brought up? Get used to it. You brought it on yourself. Your war has caused so much pain and alleviated little, and that is not what our fine country is supposed to do. This summer I am going to Russia with some friends. I am horrified to think how people there view us. Already tourists are sporting "I didn't vote for him" stickers on their luggage. You have to take responsibility for that trend. It's too late for the decisions you have already made, but for the future I urge you to think about how other people think of us. And listen to me. I'll be 18 in time for the next election, so as a voter I figure that your job is in my hands. Sincerely, - - - - Dear Mr. President, Wanna come over? I'll make you some hot dogs. Sincerely, - - - - Dear Mr. President, I was wondering if you ever thought about cloning yourself. I think it would be a very good idea for all of us to have a couple more of you hanging around so that you would be able to do more great work. And down the road, we could have you available to lead future generations. What do you think? To be totally honest, I do have some ulterior motives in making this suggestion. You see, I'm well aware that you are an extremely attractive and desirable individual. And I'm pretty much guessing that if you were to clone yourself, well, to be blunt, you would fall head over heals for yourself. I mean, how could you not? I suggest this partly because I enjoy playing match-maker, but also because I believe it might make you re-examine your position on the rights of gays and lesbians. But of course, I wouldn't want to FORCE you to do that because, as you well know, this is a free country (thank GOD) and we're all free to make up our minds about things. Sincerely, - - - - Dear Mr. President, Good day to you! I want to congratulate you for doing a good job, especially fighting those terrorists. I'm a Filipino, and currently our country is in economic trouble now that the election is coming. Mr. President, please help me to go to your country. I tried my best to apply for a visa but I was denied. Believing that we're all God's creatures and have the rights to feel the wonders of the world, PLEASE, Mr. President, help me to try my luck in the land of honey. Sincerely, - - - - Dear Mr. President, For eight years I taught high school. Two years ago, I left. Every day, I check the online casualty lists from the war in Iraq. Every day I expect to see the face of one of my kids staring back at me. I don't know what I dread more, the day one of my kids is killed in action, or the day I greet one who has returned from your war permanently changed—childhood lost, innocence gone, a witness to horrible things and experiences. Thank you for helping this generation to age. Sincerely, - - - - [NOTE: The opinions expressed in these letters do not necessarily represent those of McSweeney's, Knopf, Vintage, Kevin Feeney, Jessica Rabinowitz, or Gabe Hudson.] |
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