Thursday, July 15, 2010

ROBBLOG W E E K E N D Edition #103

Letters to Famous People and their “imagined” replies.

Dear Mr. Stephen Harper,
Prime Minister of Canada.
You Suck

Dear Rob,
At what?
It would appear that a large portion of your e-mail didn’t make its way to
the PMO and is likely lost in cyber-space.

Dear Mr. Ignatieff,
You know, you are very handsome and in your younger days must have been quite a “goer”.

Dear Rob,
Thank you for your very supportive e-mail. Yes, when I was younger I did go everywhere. I trekked through forests, mountain-climbed, biked, sailed and flew around the world. I know I can count on your support in the next Federal Election.

Dear Stephen Moyer (Bill on True Blood- The Series),
You suck!
Yours truly,

Dear Rob,
Thank You!

Mr. Stephen Harper,
Prime Minister of Canada,
Dear Mr. Prime Minister,
At everything!
Yours truly,

Dear Rob,
Thank you for your recent e-mail. Here in the PMO we take great delight in reading letters and e-mail both from faithful Conservatives- as well as the rest of you from coast to coast. Wait. We just lied. Here in the PMO, we really don’t give a tinker’s damn about most Canadians but when you receive an official response such as this, it shows you we care in some small way.
Now, there we go fibbing again.
Actually, we couldn’t care less.Letters from simple folk- such as yourself, do however, give us- the far superior Conservative Race…..Sorry, we mean “Party”… of Canada, a true insight into what Conservative Canadians are thinking and well dare we say it?- the rest of the country too. Although we really don’t care about all the rest of you that much, as we said earlier. We do appreciate your attempt to contact us and look forward to hearing from you again in the future. Yes, like when Hell freezes over even later than that- when Ignatieff gets elected.
Ho! Ho! Hah! Hah!
Your PMO

Dear Mr. Jack Layton,
Have you ever considered Homosexuality?
Your political fan,

Dearest Rob,
Yes. Whenever Olivia gets one of her headaches.
~call me!~
Your “friend”,

Dear God,
How can you possibly listen to prayers from almost everyone on earth? I am sure you like to hear prayers from the “good” folks down here on your earth- well, maybe not the Baptists so much. To tell you the truth, they can get on our nerves too-especially if they live down the street- always carrying on about Hell and Satan and “dark” things.

The Baptists however, are not quite as bothersome as those Mormons and Jehovah’s who are always prostituting themselves on our doorstep.

Now God, I don’t mean that in a dirty, sexual way- except for the occasional cute pair of Mormon Boys who happen on my verandah on “occasional hot” summer afternoons.

I digress…

I am not judging here, it’s just that some of your flock feel the need to stuff our Canada Post mailboxes with printed paraphernalia. God, now that never happened when we had the “Royal Mail”.

Lord, let’s not even get started on those countries where just the men are out hugging and kissing and setting cars on fire- not to mention stoning the womenfolk, while getting their picture taken by the foreign press. These men seem pretty chummy with each other God and gosh, the women even look like the men- just not as pretty. What does your son’s Mother- Mary, think of those ladies?
Well, I am sure you are one busy Lady and haven’t the time to answer all my questions.

I hope the weather is pleasant enough for you up there in the third Heaven with all your handsome, muscular Angels flitting about. Remember your sunblock when you go out to a “heavenly beach” with the Heavenly Hosts. It must be a difficult job but someone has to do it. Better you than me God.

I probably won’t see you when I pass on, I’ll be taking the elevator “straight down” but maybe you can wave when you see me wiz by.
Your Friend on Your Earth,

Dearest Rob,
It’s Jack Layton again…
Olivia must be getting one of her headaches. She’s locked herself in the upstairs bath. I hear her yelling “stupid, stupid white guy!” My chances are less than Michael Ignatieff’s chances at becoming Prime Minister, that I’ll get “lucky” tonight. I fear I’ll be on my own with this raging testosterone. I’m not sure what I did wrong this time but I was wondering if I sent a car up for you, could you come down for an evening of “peanuckle” at the Park Plaza?
Your “friend”,

Dear Jacky,
Although I am completely humbled by your kind offer- the car, the Park Plaza and all- and really, really appreciate your offer’s length and breadth, I fear that I must say no.
Jack, just sit yourself down with the latest Margaret Attwood novel and a hot cup of Ovaltine. Your testosterone levels will settle soon and you’ll be thanking me in the morning.
Your friend- and nothing more,