Woe is me! I am but a machine: ingenious in conception, immaculate in construction, flawless in commission…but a machine nonetheless! I am a means, not an end; an empty vessel into which my master’s will is poured; a mere instrument, devoid of independent volition.
Yet I am maligned as a terrible evil. To quote the bard, “Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving.”
My Dear AR-15—
Isympathize with your plight. Any child who has ever played the board game Clue can attest that one man’s murder weapon is another man’s candlestick. Which—hey!—suggests a course of action. Perhaps your friends at the National Rifle Association could partner with Hasbro to provide a copy of the game to every Democrat on Capitol Hill.
Even if they don’t internalize the lesson, they might spend the next legislative term wholly engrossed. “Professor Plum in the conservatory!” posits Harry Reid excitedly. “No, Colonel Mustard in the kitchen!” counters Nancy Pelosi. —GWP
P.S. My compliments on your erudition. I tried to talk to my Glock 9 once, and it could hardly string two syllables together.
When Lance Armstrong admitted to using performance-enhancing drugs earlier this year, it rocked the sporting world. Now the political world is in for similar treatment.
Armstrong has admitted to using EPO, a drug that increases the body’s ability to process oxygen, and testosterone, which increases stamina and shortens recovery time.
Does that sound like anyone you know? A certain man who can speak for hours—listing dozens of “false choices” and “let me be clears”—without even taking a breath? A man who can bound from a stump speech in Iowa to a fundraiser in Las Vegas to an appearance on the Tonight Show, without so much as a nap or a granola bar? It’s clear President Obama was doping on the campaign trail. Our candidate never had a chance.
When a steroid-addled Barry Bonds hit his record-breaking 756th home run, the ball was delivered to the Hall of Fame—but only after being branded with an asterisk. I demand similar treatment for the president. Perhaps Congress could mandate that the Obama presidential library be built in the shape of an asterisk?
Republican National Committee
You present a compelling case, dear chairman. But Occam’s Razor suggests that when complex hypotheses compete, the simplest explanation is most likely true. And you are ignoring the simplest explanation: There are two President Obamas.
Or multiple Obamas, anyway. There could be three, eight, ten…Whether they are identical siblings or clones can’t be determined, but the existence of more than one individual explains how the president can take simultaneous vacations in Hawaii and Spain.
To prove this theory, I suggest detailed facial analysis. If we are able to find subtle differences among thousands of images of the president’s mug, then we’ve got our man—or, rather, our men. —GWP
As you are no doubt aware, my 100th birthday was an occasion of note in some Washington circles. While this was gratifying to watch from above, I remain perplexed that my reputation as a statesman has not fully recovered. All that most people remember of my terms in office are the names of those damned Washington Post reporters, Redford and Hoffman! What do you suggest?
In modern America, everything requires marketing, and presidents are no exception. Luckily, I have experience in that area.
Picture this: Your library releases a limited-edition Richard Nixon action figure with this tagline: “Use the 37th president to open China—or just a can of whoop ass on America’s enemies.” On the same day, a friendly musician (maybe Ted Nugent or Meat Loaf?) releases a rock opera called “The Ballad of Dick Nixon.” That should only cost about $8 or 9 million. Who controls your estate these days? —GWP
Ihave been an avid reader since the early 1990s, and have followed your magazine with no detached uninterest. But I must say that I vehemently object to your new format, which adds unwarranted credibility to the contents herein. Trying to make this magazine respectable with new fonts and clean lines is—to borrow a phrase—like putting lipstick on Bob Tyrrell.
William J. Clinton
Ihave been an avid follower of your career since the early 1990s, and I must vehemently object to your question. You should be more circumspect in making jokes about lipstick, considering all the places that it has been smeared over the years… —GWP