Belles-lettres
Judith at Starlight News posted a copy of a letter and a link to the story on Wonkette about Homeland Security Chief Michael Chertoff receiving the Henry Petersen award. The letter to Chertoff is from Mr. Petersen's grandson, Mr. Miles W. Swanson.
I want to have Mr. Swanson's babies.
Yeah, it's that good.
Go read and tell me you want to have his babies too.
'Cuz you will.
This weekend will be nuttier than a Christmas fruitcake. It is the last weekend before Tuesday's election.
You know what to do, right?
Read another letter.
Tell me why you're crying, my son
I know you're frightened, like everyone
Is it the thunder in the distance you fear?
Will it help if I stay very near?
I am here.
Refrain:
And if you take my hand my son
All will be well when the day is done.
And if you take my hand my son
All will be well when the day is done.
Day is done, day is done
Day is done, day is done
Do you ask why I'm sighing, my son?
You shall inherit what mankind has done.
In a world filled with sorrow and woe
If you ask me why this is so, I really don't know.
(refrain)
Tell me why you're smiling my son
Is there a secret you can tell everyone?
Do you know more than men that are wise?
Can you see what we all must disguise
Through your loving eyes?
From now until Wednesday, November 8, we get to watch the United States equivalent of the Roman orgy on television. From the comfort of our own e-z chairs! Who's bringing the spinach dip?
The Media will have an orgasm approximately every hour for the next five days. The orgiastic frenzy will reach it's maximum pitch around 8pm Eastern time when orgasms will occur, roughly, every five minutes. They will taper off around midnight, Eastern time, out of shear exhaustion. By noon, Eastern time, on Wednesday, November 8, it will be all over. Forgotten.
A long, lost, weekend.
But will be happy?
Ignore the Mainstream pimping machine and their last minute exit poll data. Ignore the increasing shrill hysteria of people who want your vote and the Media who pimp them out to you.
Shut it all out.
Turn off the television, the radio - don't read the newspapers or the internet.
You already know who you'll vote for and why.
Stop paying the pimps.
Stop listening to the whores.
Just go vote. Tuesday, November 8, 2006.
I know these letters do not fit the definition of belles-lettres except that they are critisim. You try coming up with titles for the stuff I post! :)









