I wrote this for Jane Edith Wilson’s show “Lit Up.” The topic for the night was Bizarre Love Triangle. I had some crazy writer’s block and didn’t come up with this idea until the night before and didn’t start writing it until about four hours before the show. And as my inaugural post to this blog, I thought I’d share it. Here go.
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I filed an expedited request under the Freedom of Information Act this morning and just moments ago, I received these very sensitive, surprising documents from D.C. Turns out it’s less a Bizarre Love Triangle and more like a Bizarre Love Octagon. I bring you Valentines for President Obama.
Dear Barry,
I want you to walk through my security line. Refuse my backscatter scan so then I can molest your body all over sexually, unnecessarily. Maybe you can even dress up like a grandma, ride a wheelchair so I can egregiously violate your liberties by looking through your diaper while whispering the words of the 4th amendment lustily in your ears.
Yours forever,
Rand
Dear Barry,
I apologize in advance. The tear stains on this stationary are intentional. The spray tan smudges are not. I’ve had a busy day and didn’t get a chance to properly dry my fresh coat of Aruba Milk Chocolate #317 before setting down to pen these words.
My love for you is obstructed like Temporary Payroll Tax Cut Extension HR 3630. I long for you to try and push your bill through me. If only I were in the Senate, then I would mount a filibuster all over you. Don’t veto me. You know you want it.
Happy Valentine’s Day,
John Boehner (picture of an erect penis)
Dear Barry,
Some of the men and women I work with are socialist but you’re the only one I want to get SOCIAL with. Read: naked in a hot tub. Maybe I’m accused of insider trading but the only insider trading I’ll cop to is the trading I do in my dreams inside YOU. Read: You know insider… trading. It’s the government’s role to serve the banks. Well, how about I’m the government and you’re the banks and I’m ready to serve. Read: blow job gesture
Love,
Spence
Dear Barry,
They say sarcasm is the sincerest form of flattery. Well, I say that your appropriation of RomneyCare in to ObamaCare is the sexiest form of flattery. How about we get together on a man date and talk about mandates? If you were a flailing company, I would take you over in a leveraged buyout, LEVERAGED BUYOUT. I’ll probably have to do a round of layoffs too (in your mouth). I just want to forget about the rest of the world, strap you to the roof of my car and go on vacation to all of my favorite states, Florida and maybe Iowa.
Fondest of fondests,
Brother Mitt
Dear Barry,
In the past, I’ve always waited until my wife was hospitalized before leaving her for someone else. For you, I’d give Callista cancer today, yesterday. You’re the food stamps president. Well, call me government cheese. Use yourself to buy me and put me between two slices of wonder bread (buttered on both sides), toast on a griddle and then eat me. Is it jewelry that you want? I have a line of credit at Tiffany’s that’s yours for the using. I’m a history professor. Here’s a coupon for 1.5 million dollars off my lessons so it’ll only cost you 100k bucks to get my information inside of you.
Yours truly,
Newt
Dear Barry,
My love for you is no mere fiat currency. It is backed by a cold, hard rod of precious metal. I want you to audit my reserve bank. If my private militia is unable to bring us together, I would issue a letter of mark and reprisal, unleashing the tender caress of the markets invisible hand up and down your muscular thighs. Let’s role play: You’ve just been honestly raped. Come to my office the morning after and I’ll give you a shot of of my steaming estrogen. You set my eyebrows aquiver like a dirty hippie caught in an ill-advised drug war.
All my best,
Dr. Ron Paul
Dear Barry,
When I was running for the Republican presidential nomination, all I could talk about was 999 but all I could think about was six nine, six nine, six nine with you. I’d harass you like a female employee but the only gag order on our settlement would be made of black leather and rubber. Call me for a hot slice, pick up OR delivery.
Love,
Hermy
Dear Barry,
I am risking a lot to compose this letter as it goes against everything I publicly stand for. I think that’s what makes this so exciting. We could be great together. After my failed senatorial reelection bid, I know what it’s like to go down hard. If there are three things I am certain of, one is I want you, two is that birth control is a sin and the third is, we won’t need it. I bring a lot to the table most of which is a frothy mix of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the byproduct of anal sex. I’ll be waiting for your call.
God Bless,
RS
