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Dear God,

 Hey you! Yeah, you, you uppity bastard! I campaign my fool ass off for your way, and what do I get? If you had let me win, just think, we could finally wipe all those goddamn Heebs off the face of the earth forever! Serves ‘em right for being so damn quick to crucify.  Eenywhoo, so who the fuck are you gonna let ru(i)n the country—that flabby-ass pussy-chasing sonofabitch Clinton? That old crusty incontinent clod Dole? They’ll give the goddamn country to the Spics and the Desert Rats before you know... I can’t believe you let that buffoon Forbes embarrass me in so many states! Jesus Christ, that fucking four-eyed freak couldn’t carry a bucket of shit if you dropped it on his fool head! And how ‘bout that queer-looking doofus Perot and his goddamn “third party” shit? Everybody knows that what this country needs is less parties—like one! With me (and of course you) at the head, too. You want all these faggots and foreigners running your chosen lands you killed the Redskins off of for us? You dumb fuck! You don’t know what you’re losing out on, you holy twat! When I get up there you’re gonna have some serious explaining to do.

    Your Faithful(ly PO’d) Servant,
    Pat Buchanan

Dear Pat the Bunny,

 Shalom, shalom, fair Pat.  I think someone’s finally on to my grand scheme of world domination by my Hebrew friends.  Pat, my boy, YOU are going to be the one to deliver us to the promised land.  Because of your appeal to Johnny Hayseed redneck, you are speeding up the pace at which I’ll send the real savior.  He is the one known as... Fat Mike!  Bow down in the presence of His insalubriosity!!!  Along with the holy trinity of the holy Father (me!) and the Holy Spirit of Punk (a.k.a. 100 proof Wild Turkey), we will soon take over once again, damning the un-punk, bigot fecal matter of society to the ever-burning pit of hell that earthlings call... adult contemporary!!!  To complete your punishment, God will shove a piping hot chimichunga with collard greens most directly up your filthy rectum.  Who do you think I am, Lawrence Welk?  (At least I know Bill would like a beer bong.)

Dear God,

 I’m a young ostracized junior high kid. I have really thick glasses and acne and everyone picks on me. Every day this bigger kid cums in my peanut butter sandwich and makes me eat it. The lunch ladies don’t stop him ‘cause they think it’s marshmallow fluff. I’m getting sick of eating this goon’s semen, but if I told any one about it, they would just call me a homo. Why did you make me a scrawny little geek so I have to chow down this freak’s wad? And you thought Skippy peanut butter was salty in the first place!

    Jizzer in the Rye

Dear Jizz,

 I think Darwin said it best: natural selection.  When I created this toilet Earth, I made it so the weaker, less adaptable, creatures of the planet would be hunted down and slaughtered by the mighty ones.  The lion hunts down the gazelle.  The coyote gobbles up the rabbit.  Cat catches mouse.  And you, cum monkey, were put upon this earth to be the prey of the stronger members of your society.
 You might wonder why I do this?  My reasons are pure and simple...entertainment!  What, you think I get Cinemax up here?  Believe me, re-runs of Silk Stockings get old after an eternity.  But don’t feel too bad.  Remember the old parable, “Blessed are those who consent to oral sodomy, for they shall surely be filled”.  That’s in Revelations, I think.  All those damn books, they just run together.  What, you think I read?  Wait til’ you get here, Mr. Swallow.  Remember, holy water is a little thicker up here.

P.S. Chunky or smooth., mo’fo?