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Tuesday, March 28, 2006
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 A LOVE LETTER TO skippy's BEAUTIFUL YOUNG FRIEND AS WRITTEN BY THE 13th AND 21st SECRETARY OF DEFENSE, ONE DONALD HENRY RUMSFELD, ESQUIRE.
Editor's note: Some of my long-time readers might be surprised to hear this, but I'm not much for the pitching of woo in public. Sure, I'm great about writing how I'd love to fuck a woman I've never met and, from time to time, it'll even work. And, yes, I'm every bit as shocked as you kids are when that happens.
But writing about deeply held emotions is something else entirely. My forte is dick jokes and I think we all know that. Being forced to write about my innermost feelings, particularly those regarding my tender, tender heart is far out of my depth. I've been hurt by love far too many times to count already, and I doubt that I can deal rationally with any more heartbreak.
That's not to say that I can't write a love letter. Oh no, I've written several of those in my day. Letters that lead to degenerate sex that left heads spinning for months at a time. Unfortunately, they were written for friends of mine who were far too good looking to put their inner beings to paper. That they were also too illiterate should go without saying. I served as their personal Cyrano de Bergerac. Expressions of romance are not entirely foreign to me. They are, however, foreign coming from me in my own voice.
Thankfully, I'm not alone in my quest to make my Beautiful Young Friend mine forever..... or at least for one mind-altering weekend. Yes, even a cur like me has a friend.
I've never publicly spoken about this before, but I've long been pen pals with the Secretary of Denfense, Donald Rumsfeld. The secretary recognized the longing in my missives to him, and he selflessly asked how he could help. I told him about my Beautiful Young Friend and my longing for her. Secretary Rumsfelf insisted on taking time out of his busy day to compose this letter to her.
Everyone needs a friend like Donald Rumsfeld.
Dear Beautiful Young Friend of skippy's,
Boy, oh boy, have I heard a lot about you. It seems as if I can't start my computer in the morning without seeing dozens of e-mails and instant messages from my pal skippy about you. Golly, he sure seems to be sweet on you. Whenever I read his messages, a tear comes to my eye and I sigh and get the same romantic feeling I had when I first met my wife, Joyce. But that was when I was in college and not fighting multiple wars against the Asiatic hordes. It is only the power of his attraction to you that could possibly distract me from my constant vigilance to Operation Enduring Freedom, Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Blow Up Manitoba (just kidding about the last one. Maybe. Ha Ha.) But when I read about how supernaturally beautiful you are, I feel like I did during my first tenure as a young, strappling, secretary of defense.
 I hope you don't mind, but skippy sent me some of the pictures he has of you, and Gee whillikers, I can see why he's he's so smitten. Good golly, Miss Molly, you are a beautiful girl. And I understand that you sure like to ball. Why if I were a younger man and if I never met Joyce, my hands would be all over you. I don't want to tell tales out of school, but when I was young, my hands had a mind all of their own. Golly, I was called the "Gropinator" when Governor Schwarzenegger was still a boy and an extra in "the Sound of Music" or whetever the heck he did before he was a good American.
Usually, I'm too reserved to admit this, but the first time skippy showed my your picture, I wanted to pull out my Lugar and shoot a reporter in both knees. And if you've read about me, I just don't like wasting ammo on the liberal media. I don't like it at all. But gosh, pretty girls have that effect on me!
When skippy told me some of the things you enjoy sexually, all I could think was "Oh my goodness gracious, are things like that even possible?" I had no idea that that part of a man could fit in that place on a girl. And I thought only gay people did that, but I can't be sure because gay people weren't invented when I first ran for Congress back in 1962. And now I'm not allowed to ask or tell, so skippy is really the only way I can find these things out.
 I hope you don't mind, Beautiful Young Friend, but skippy told me about your previous relationship, and I can only imagine how disappointed you must have been. All I can say is that I'm glad that they don't let men that inadequate in this man's army! You can probably see from the picture on the left how I feel about such things. Oh my goodness, I thought some of the men I rubbed against during my wrestling years were small. Well, you won't have to worry about that with skippy "tripod" stalin. Did you know that he can only get into bed by falling backwards? Gosh, if he weren't Canadian, I'd make him the commanding general of our invasion of Iran. Oppsie-daisy, I shouldn't have mentioned that, but any friend of skippy's is a friend of mine. Hopefully, I can tell you these things without them showing up on one of those new-fangled "blogs" that all of you young people are talking about these days. Technology is so gosh-darned bothersome when it isn't put to useful purposes, like killing people.
 I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Well, golly gee, the sexiest man ever to be secretary of defense twice is writing me to talk about skippy. He must be really swell!" And he is swell. You wouldn't have read this far if he wasn't swell, would you? You're gosh-darned right you wouldn't! skippy is even keener than Kissinger!
Certainly, you might think, "What does Rumsfeld know? Okay, he commands 1,427,000 troops and a budget of $400 million dollars each year, but what does that silly old man know about love?" Well, I'll tell you what I know. On my first date with Mrs. Rumsfeld, I looked deep into her eyes and said "I want you to spread your legs for me and let me make you pregnant." And then I said, "Forver baby...forever. I want to be with you for the rest of my life."Needless to say that Mrs. Rumsfeld knew that she would never know a love-miester like the Secretary, and I can tell you that you'll never know one like skippy. Oh me, oh my, I guess what I'm saying is that you should spread your legs for skippy and let him make you pregnant. He'll be there for you forever, baby.....forever. For the rest of your lives.
It's just too bad that skippy is too much of a sissy to say these things for himself, but that's what friends are for.
For goodness sake, can I make this any clearer?
 I remain yours,
Donald H. Rumsfeld
Secretary of Defense.
The Pentagon,
Arlington, Virginia
Easy Listening Recommendation of the Day: Valentine's Day By: Steve Earle. From: I Feel Alright
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Labels: Life With skippy
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