G A B E   H U D S O N ' S D E A R   M R .   P R E S I D E N T L E T T E R S . - - - - [Write a letter to the president.] [Read batches one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23.] - - - - [Gabe Hudson, a McSweeney's editor-at-large and a former rifleman in the Marine Reserves, wrote a book of fiction, Dear Mr. President, about the first Gulf War.] - - - - [McSweeney's is pleased to announce that Gabe Hudson's Dear Mr. President received the 2003 Sue Kaufman Prize for First Fiction from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. Please note that the opinions expressed and implied by Mr. Hudson are not necessarily those of this website or its editors. You would really be surprised at the wide array of opinions held by those who are employed under the banner above. Now, back to the feature:] - - - - Dear Mr. President, What do you think of umeboshi (Japanese pickled plums)? Sincerely, James K. Nichols - - - - Dear Mr. President, My thoughts on gender below: MAN'S PRIMARY DESIRE Each male prospective citizen's paramount desire in life, whether he is aware of this or not, is to launch an ejaculate large enough in width and diameter to completely envelop and douse the world in one fell swoop. It is perhaps useful to consider the world in terms of a candle, which yearns to be extinguished, and to then consider the futility inherent in man's predicament, given the fact that, due to the food shortage, an average man is incapable of launching an ejaculate large enough to douse an actual candle flame. This is why the Texas men launch a nuclear bomb, as an abrupt, communal, consolation-type fulfillment of an unfufillable desire. WOMAN'S PRIMARY DESIRE Each female prospective citizen's paramount desire, whether she is aware of this or not, is to birth a son large enough in width and diameter to extinguish her father in one fell swoop. It is perhaps useful to consider the woman's father in terms of a light switch, which yearns to be flipped off, and to then consider the futility inherent in the woman's predicament, given the fact that a standard woman, due to the food shortage, is incapable of birthing a son tall enough to flip off an actual light switch. This is why the women secures a husband, as an abrupt, consolation-type fulfillment of an unfufillable desire. Sincerely, R.K. Patterson - - - - Dear Mr. President, I have been writing the Prime Minister of Canada every day, (or almost every day), for the past two years and four months. It began as a school project and has sort of morphed into a life project. I have written almost seven hundred letters. He has never replied. Sincerely, Chris Lloyd - - - - Dear Mr. President, Hello there. I am a senior in a suburban Midwestern high school. I plan on studying English and journalism in college. I enjoy using the words "hence" and "rapscallion" in sentences, as well as "malefactor." I do not play any sports, but I do enjoy music extensively. I take two different medications for depression. Sometimes I think back to your now-famous "Axis of Evil" speech, and shake my head in wonder. I've often posed this question to people: "How can the President call an entire nation 'evil'?" It took me a while to come to terms with the answer, but eventually I did. Your administration maintains its grip over the psyche of the American people by ensuring they maintain a state of constant paranoia, arbitrary patriotism, and religious fervor. How else could some of our most "American" freedoms be — on a scale larger than any previous attempt — systematically negated? Yours is a truly frightening brand of freedom, Mr. President. Sincerely, Chris Blado - - - - Dear Mr. President, A couple of weeks ago in Oakland, the police fired rubber and wooden bullets at protesters blocking shipments of supplies going toward the war effort. Sincerely, Amanda Thomas - - - - Dear Mr. President, I am eating yet another chocolate chip cookie as I write this. I have been eating quite a lot of cookies lately, thus my need to ramp up my workout schedule. Luckily, the baby likes his baby jogger so I can run with him around. There are some beautiful photographs of Iraq in the paper today. I have decided that I may start keeping a scrapbook of photos because many of them are astounding. But then I'm not sure. I don't think I could bear to look at some of them again: like the photo of the medic holding the child whose mother had just been shot. I see my son in the place of all these children. I'm sure you know that Virginia Woolf put stones in her pocket to drown herself. Can you imagine that sort of determination? Sincerely, Jennifer Calkins - - - - [NOTE: The opinions expressed in these letters do not necessarily represent those of McSweeney's, Knopf, or Gabe Hudson.]

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