Hoodwink, Nudge Nudge
Vice President Dick Cheney
The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW
Washington, DC 20500
I hope you don't mind if I call you "Dick." It sounds friendly. I feel I know you so well it seems strange we've never met. People probably say to you all the time, "You know, Dick, you are making friends around the world. Yep."
Lately, I've been reading in the papers and on the internet about Karl Rove's troubles. They are certainly important, and the American people sure do have a lot to say about good manners and talking with your mouth full, but it'd be rude to mention it face-to-face. Anyway, I don't want you to think just because Karl Rove is the name on everyone's lips that nobody thinks about you. I think about you a lot! You are just as popular with real Americans like me as you've ever been! I wouldn't want you to feel insecure about that.
This week's fuss about the energy bill worries me a little. Well, I admit that when I read about billions of new dollars going to Halliburton for new energy research it sounds to me like I nod off at the same part of the fairy tale Papa reads every night - but don't worry, specifics have a soporific effect on lots of people. We think we're dreaming and that's got to be good for you! The one thing I should tell you is that a good artist wouldn't re-use the same villains from book to book because Americans have a short attention span and like spanking hot justice. If you want to hand out money to your friends - and hey, who doesn't? - you need a wider circle of friends.
For the purposes of - oh, I don't know - interstate commerce, I'll be your friend. Well, not really, but I'll let you tell other people we're friends. People really like me, and maybe a little of my popularity will rub off - but we're not going out to dinner and we'll never, never sleep together. For one thing, your wife could probably kick my ass; for another, well, it's just not going to happen, Dick. I think we both know why. My sister once dated a duplicitous city councilman, and her relationship is as close as I'm getting to the body politic.
So listen, next time you need to hand out a billion here or there, I'll be happy to take it off your hands. I'm not going to tell you how I'll spend it. It's not nice to talk about money, even between friends as close as we are! I'll give you a hint, though: there sure are millions of desperate Americans without health insurance, and with a government-size purse I bet I could fix some of that. You know, like a wacky challenge. It'll be a blast!
Ordinarily, I take gifts in check form. Sometimes it's the best Mom can do when she's not feeling well enough to shop for a birthday present! But a check for billions would raise a few eyebrows at the Highland Park, New Jersey Wachovia branch, and I suspect there might be tedious questions about propriety and whether or not the Enquirer bought the negatives we both know will never exist. I believe my accountant can set up a handy foundation for this purpose, so you can tell people I'm showing some faith-based initiative. Whatever, right? It'll be my money and I can spend like a drunken sailor driven to build medical clinics and soup kitchens.
I hope we can enjoy a long, lucrative friendship, but you completely cannot borrow my blouses,