[These letters were compiled by Gabe Hudson, Jessica Rabinowitz, and Kevin Feeney.]
Dear Mr. President,
Could I ask you a favor? Do you still fire cruise missiles from warships in the gulf? Well, if you do, could you consider firing just one less, then use that money to repay my student loans? I would definitely vote for you if you did that.
Sincerely,
Matthew J. Cremer
Dear Mr. President,
I feel rather betrayed about the whole weapons of mass destruction thing. I think you owe your constituents an apology. You portrayed the situation as an “imminent threat,” but clearly it was not. In hindsight I feel foolish for defending you when the war began. By doing so, my reputation has been criticized.
At least make an attempt at legitimizing the whole ordeal to the public.
Sincerely,
Kevin Andrews
Dear Mr. President,
As I lay in bed this Saturday afternoon my muscles felt empty from my morning run. At 5:30, I turned the last page in Jim Harrison’s “Dalva” and felt the combination of joy and disappointment that comes with finishing a good book. Moments later my eyelids became heavy and I let myself fall asleep, as the sun went down. This summer I figure I’ll be sleeping in a variety of places and I plan to write about each one in my journal. You see, this summer my good friend Jefferson Pitcher and I are pedaling our bicycles from Northern California to the coast of Maine; along the way we plan to fill our days with experience … We’ll glide through the strange and alluring beauty of Yellowstone, deliver multiple singing telegrams (to help fund the trip), eat an entire Vermonster at the original Ben & Jerry’s in Vermont, distribute granola bars to the homeless and hungry. When we arrive in Maine we’ll produce a concert with a “Toms in Maine” theme to benefit environmental non-profit organizations. If we can get 123 Toms to show up we’ll set the Guinness world record for “largest same name gathering.” The current is held by 122 Shirlys.
We’ll also swim naked in the Mississippi, sing the national anthem at a Yankees game (we’re still working on this one), and rendezvous with the U.S. Forest Service at three different points to plant trees. It seems a fitting thing to do when crossing the continent on a bicycle; to give something back to the land.
We’d also really like to sleep in the Lincoln bedroom. Does it have two beds? If not, I’m totally open to sleeping on the floor or in another guestroom that may not have any particular name. Jeff and I will have been on the road for a good six weeks and I’m sure we’ll have slept in some pretty outlandish places but the White House would really top it all off. We couldn’t pay for our stay as we’re on a pretty tight budget but I’d be glad to cook dinner for the staff over there. And of course you and your family would be invited as well. My specialty is the veggie burrito, though I have had some good early results from my experiments with fig pizza …
Our departure date is June 1st and we should be in Washington D.C. around August 25th. I look forward to hearing from you soon.
Sincerely,
Michael Schwartz
Dear Mr. President,
I wrote you before, last week I think. I was at work. Maybe my letter wasn’t funny enough to be included on the web. I was trying to be flippant. (Go ahead and look that one up. I’ll wait.)
Okay, you back yet? Well, I just wanted to say that history will make you look like a fool.
Sincerely,
Matt
Dear Mr. President,
I am a regular person from Alberta, Canada. A lot of people blame the mad cow situation on you and the United States, but I do not blame anyone, even though it has affected my life. How did we all become responsible for this happening? I think that Canada and the U.S.A. should find a common ground and figure it out. I sense in the position you hold that the stress level is very high. After September 11, even Canadians’ lives have changed, and I think yours has as well. You handled it very well and used your heart in reassuring even our safety. Bless you for the work you do, and just so you know, I wish in my heart for peace everywhere. I hate living in fear of another disaster. I know you may never read this letter because you probably get mean ones, too, but I can at least tell my friends that I did write you.
Thank you, Mr. President, for you and your will.
Sincerely,
Robert Morin
Dear Mr. President,
Sir, I have lived through Vietnam and I know that you did also. I would like to know why our troops do not have the protective gear to ensure their best chances of survival. Families are having to buy bullet proof jackets. Where are they? Why are they not on our troops? Please don’t insult me, by a statement such as “they are coming.” My child is on his way and I don’t have the money to save his life.
I would also like to know why you have not put a wholehearted effort into this war. All of the senior Generals advised you to do so. How like Vietnam! Did you not learn?
Hard not to notice that you do not have a child on the front lines. I guess they have other things to do besides protect and defend. Yet you choose to send our daughters and sons to die. What are your children doing this Easter weekend?
Truly, you made good on your Father’s vendetta at the cost of our children’s lives. You may hug and kiss your daughters and let them know that they will not die at their Father’s hand, unlike many of us in America.
I would also like to know why our troops are arriving home sick. How much is this going to cost their families? When will the government pay?
Sir, you do not relate to the average person. The one “Of the People.” I am sure your Father is PROUD of you. So much blood. So many mother’s hearts broken. I hope your family enjoyed this victory.
Sir, you have many to answer to, and honestly I don’t think that you can. Please begin to pack!
Sincerely,
Jacquie Mackerell
Dear Mr. President,
I have very little to say to you, other than that you deserve all opprobrium directed at you.
Enjoy your forced retirement.
Sincerely,
Carlos Pecciotto
Dear Mr. President,
I was wondering if you could do me a big favor for my fifteenth birthday. I’ve always wished that me and my friends could get free concert tickets from someone, and I thought since you make everybody’s dreams come true, you could let me meet Chingy or Eminem. So if you love us U.S.A. people so much could you please fulfill my dream and give me those tickets?
Also, you are my role model. I look up to you. As I get older I hope I can be just like you but a girl.
Sincerely,
Sarah Maier
Dear Mr. President,
I understand that politicians need to raise money in order to win votes. Here’s your chance to get mine for free. I will vote for you in November if you do one of two things.
The first thing you could do is respond to this letter. Tell me that you’ve read this letter, and prove it’s you and not a staffer by telling me something no one else would know about you. Some examples are as follows: Who do you fantasize about? What happened to your supposed military service? Where do you get off advocating pre-emptive strikes? When did you first realize the intelligence concerning the Iraqi invasion was incomplete? Did you in fact ever snort cocaine?
Answer any of these questions, or a fungible (equally valued) one of your own, in a personalized letter to me, and I will vote for you, no (more) questions asked.
Your second chance to earn my vote? Don’t seek re-election. If you decide to do what’s best for the country and step down, I’ll vote for you and no one else. Deal?
If I receive your letter by November 1st, 2004, I will cast my vote for you. If you announce your decision to decline re-election by November 1st, 2004, I will cast my vote for you. Otherwise, I will not. This is your chance to earn a vote, not steal it or fake it or strong-arm it. I beg you, as a person who cares, please earn my vote.
Sincerely,
Sean James Gavin
Dear Mr. President,
When I was a child my family would summer on the south shore of the St Lawrence River about 200 kilometers east of Quebec City. The town was called Cacouna and my family had been going there since the late 19th century.
My great-aunt, however, summered on the north shore of the St Lawrence in a town called Murray Bay. When I was older I would join my Cousin Nonie, the daughter of my great-aunt, in Murray Bay. There were many Americans who stayed there and I always liked them. Such optimistic people.
Those who summer on the south shore always say they have spectacular views and wonderful sunsets. By contrast, those on the north shore tend to have larger houses with more servants and slightly more fabulous parties. I think this sort of good-natured rivalry is healthy. Don’t you agree?
Sincerely,
Anthony Johnson
[NOTE: The opinions expressed in these letters do not necessarily represent those of McSweeney’s, Knopf, Vintage, Kevin Feeney, Jessica Rabinowitz, or Gabe Hudson.]