Letter to David Axelrod (aka, “the Axe”!)

As of yet, Wil has not gotten any replies to his emails.  He is hoping that this letter to David Axelrod will get things moving as “the Axe” is pretty much in charge of things down there.


August 4, 2009

Hello there Mr. Axelrod!

I hope I spelled your name right?  Seems to me it could be spelled with an “el” or with an “le”.  I saw you on the TV the other day and I was so captivated by getting to see “The Great One” on TV that I didn’t even look at the name at the bottom of the screen.  But I know it was you because the things you were saying were so smart and sounded so much like the stuff that the president says that I knew it had to be you!  Plus, I could tell from the great big bushy eyebrows!

I always watch the president whenever he is on the TV.  Where I’m staying these days, I get free TV and all the channels I want.  And no, I’m not in prison!  I knew that you would think that though because you are really smart.  No, I live right next to a store that sells TV’s and radios and something called “computers”, whatever that is.  I actually live right in the front of that store, on the corner.  17th and Locust, northwest corner.

The TV store is right next to a bank.  When I was talking to my friend Barney, I mentioned to him about having seen him on the TV which is in a store right next to the bank and how ironic that was what with him being the king of banks and all.  He’s going to try to get me a small mortgage so that I can upgrade to some better living “quarters”, if you know what I mean.  And I know you do because you are so smart!  I know that you see and know most of what is going on today.  When you say that “the people are clamoring for this” or, “the people are clamoring for that”, I know that the people really must be clamoring for whatever you say they are clamoring for.

And I’ll tell you what, Barney is trying to help me upgrade my living “quarters” but in this day and age, a quarter ain’t worth diddly.

Anyways, I could tell how smart you are and how much you know from the way you handled the questions from that nosey reporter on “Meet The Press”.  You slayed him like a dragon!  He tried to get you to say stuff that wasn’t true, I could tell.  But you were smooth!  You weren’t intimidated by that talking head at all.  It was almost as if you knew what he was going to say.  Like you could read right from his teleprompter or something!

Hey listen, I’m wondering if your friends call you “Axe”, or something like that?  Or maybe they did when you were a kid?  And I don’t mean to say you are old now!  Believe me, you still look pretty darn good!  You must be pushing 40?  I’m pushing 40 myself.  Yeah, pushing it right out in the street and under the bus!  I haven’t been 40 for a long time and believe you me, you could tell just by looking at me.  I look like I have 40 years of dirt caked on me.  And so you would have to figure that I must be at least 42 because no mother in their right mind would let their kid outside to play in the dirt until they were at least 2, don’t you think?

I try to take a shower once in a while, just about every time it rains but the dirt just doesn’t seem to want to come off.  My mother used to say “you need to scrub hard to get that dirt off because it is ground in dirt”.  Ground in dirt!  I always liked that one.  I don’t know exactly what it means but I sure like the sound of it.  She also used to make ground meat and noodles for dinner sometimes.  A lot actually because we were kind of poor and now, I realize that ground meat is kind of related to “ground in dirt”.  I bet that the “ground meat” probably had some “ground in” dirt which is probably why it was so cheap.  And now that I’m thinking about it, I bet if she tried that on us now that you guys in the government would pounce on her like flies on, well, I guess that flies don’t actually pounce, they kind of swarm.  I know that for sure because I see enough of them around here!  They seem to follow me wherever I go.  I know that if I told my friend Barney down there in Washington about this, he’d sure do something about it.  He is the king of banks you know.  I bet he could work some of his magic and take her house away from her just with a phone call.  Or, he could get one of his many aids to do it for him.  I know that he must have lots of aids there, don’t you think?  (and all over 18 years old!  Wink wink!).   Well, it wouldn’t do any good now to take her house away, seeing as she’s dead now and all.  But, I know what she would say if she were alive right now, Dave.  She would say “Ahhhhhh!  Let me out!  Let me out!” 

Get it?

Well, even if your friends don’t call you “Ax” or, “the Axe” or something like that, they sure ought to.  Because when you get into a debate about something on TV, you just “chop! Chop!” them and the debate is all over.  Chop! Chop!, the Axe man has struck again.  To me, it looks kind of like this:

TV Announcer:  Come on now, Mr. Axelrod, you don’t seriously believe in global warming, do you?

You:  Chop! Chop!, take that you nincompoop

TV Announcer: Okay, so its true.  But did humans cause it?

You:  Chop! Chop!, you ignoramus

TV Announcer: Okay, so we caused it.  What makes you think Cap and Trade will fix it?

You:  Chop! Chop!, the Axeman says so!

TV Announcer:  (eyes are all bugged out now because he knows he’s been bested by the master)  There you have it folks, all that global warming stuff is true and its your fault so pay up you stiffs!

You:  Ahhhh, that was just too easy!

It is no shame to be bested by the master!

You could do the same thing with doctors and hospitals and stuff.  Just get the president to do the same tricks he did with the stimulation, or whatever that thing is called.  And don’t worry about where the money is going to come from to pay for any of this stuff.  You own the printing presses!  You can make as much money as you want!  You guys could go to the top of every building in every city and drop wheelbarrows full of money down on the streets if you wanted to.  And man, would that stimulize the economy.  People would be crashing their cars into each other just to get some of that doe ray me and then, they’d have to buy new cars!  They could take the money that you guys are dropping by the boatload and buy a new car from GM (some folks call it “Government Motors”!) and that money goes right back to you because you own GM and then you could just pipe it back up to the wheelbarrows on the rooftops and just keep that cycle going!  After a while, you wouldn’t need to print any more money cause it would just keep recycling.  Just like a beer bottle gets recycled!  The people would sure love you guys then.  I bet you guys could be presidents for life if you wanted to.  Don’t worry about that constitution thing.  Everyone knows what that thing is worth these days.  About the same as a nickel which is diddly.  FDR was president for life, why should he be the only one?

Anyway, I got away from the reason why I wanted to write to you.  And here is that reason:  I’m now pen-pals with that super secretary of secretaries, Bobby Gibbs (he didn’t say I could call him Bobby but, he didn’t say I couldn’t!).  I’m also very good friends with Barney Frank (he’s the king of banks and some people say the queen of Washington although I’m not one of those people).  Have you ever heard of Barney? Well, anyway, those two guys are sending me autographed pictures of themselves for my collection. I was hoping that maybe you could be my pen-pal too and also send me an autographed picture?  If you wanted to send me a picture, I bet you could get Bobby to help you.  Being a secretary, he knows an awful lot about how to get things done!  If you have a secretary like him, I bet you would be in great shape!

Oh, I don’t mean to say that you’re not in good shape!  I can tell that you are!  You probably have a really good gym to work out in down there in Washington D.C.  I wish I had a gym to work out in like you guys.  I could join one if I had some money but being a bum, I’m kinda broke most of the time.  When I do get some money, I usually spend it on staples.   Well, not really staples staples.  Mostly liquor and smokes.

You might not think that liquor and smokes are staples buy my mother used to say “one man’s staples are another man’s death trap”.  I don’t know what she meant by that but I figure, why should I spend good money on food when I can get as much of that as I want from dumpsters behind restaurants.   Believe me, Axe, nobody throws cigarettes and liquor into dumpsters.  Anyway, if you guys actually did drop money by the wheelbarrow full from the top of buildings, that would be my lucky day.  Especially if you did it in the middle of the night!  Because on us “hardcore unemployed homeless people” (that’s the new politically correct words for bum!) are out there at night.  Everyone else stays off the streets at night because they are afraid of the hardcore unemployed homeless people.  But there is no reason for them to be afraid!  They should come out here and see what it is like because pretty soon, the way things are going, they’re going to be out here too!

Anyway, you keep up the good work, Axe.  I’m hoping that I will get to meet you at the gym!  I figure that when the free health care comes out, you and me will be able to go to any gym we want and I’m going to want to go to the same gym as you because you are in such good shape!  I can’t remember where I saw the two of you together on TV at the same time but I’m pretty sure I saw Barney checking you out!

So bye for now, Dave.  It’s starting to rain and I wanna try to get a shower.  I “borrowed” a scrubbing brush from the local hardware store and I’m gonna try to get some of this ground in dirt off.  Hey, do you think I could collect it and maybe sell it to someone to supplement their ground meat?  I bet some other poor schlubs like me would be pretty happy to be able to stretch a buck these days.  And you know what a buck is worth these days (diddly). 

Anyway Dave, you just keep pulling them strings down there and making things happen.  I’m waiting with bated breath for the day when all them rich bastards get what’s coming to them.  And I know that you are just the guy to do it!

Please write back and let me know how you are doing.  And please send me that autographed picture for my collection!  My brother says that you can send mail to his house and he will drop it off at my vent on his way to work.

Thanks Dave!

Your new buddy,

Wil Goodwin.

A letter to Barney Frank

Now that Wil has me as a link to the mailbox, he asked me to send this letter to Barney Frank, former congressman from Massachusettes!

July 9, 2009

Hello Barney!

How are you?  I saw you on the TV the other day and I thought you looked pretty darn good!  A little disheveled, a little rough around the edges, tie all loosened up and stuff.  And you weren’t taking any guff from that reporter fellow, whoever he was.  You did good by ducking into that office!  I think he was trying to trap you into saying something you didn’t want to say.  I don’t know what I would have done in your place.  I probably would have answered his question with a lie!  It might not have made him happy but it sure would have got rid of him.  And who knows, it might even have ended up getting more TV time for you (and everyone needs publicity, especially when you are famous and need to stay that way, kind of like you are!).

And speaking of TV, wait till you hear this and tell me if you think this is ironic – – I saw  you on a TV that was in an electronics store window and right next to the electronics store is……a bank!!  Isn’t that funny?  I’m watching the king of banks (that’s you!) on a TV right next to a bank!  I’m not sure if it was one of those banks that you sent money to but if it is, why, I think that would make it even funnier, don’t you think?  I don’t have a TV myself.  I could get one but I don’t have anywhere to plug it in seeing as how I live on the street and all.  I could probably get a TV “off the back of a truck” if you know what I mean (and I think you do) but still wouldn’t be able to plug it in.

You know, I live on the street but I don’t consider myself to be homeless though because my home is right there at 17th and Locust, northwest corner.  And my family is the other bums that occupy the other three corners.  We are just like brothers!  Kind of.  We don’t share anything that we find or get by panhandling but I remember when I was growing up, that’s how it was in my house.  If my brothers were lucky enough to get something or god forbid, make money working, well, they never gave anything to me.  The only thing I ever got from my older brothers were hand-me-down shoes and clothes.  Although I never liked the clothes that got handed down to me because they were never my “style” if you know what I mean.  And I think you do!  I liked my clothes a little bit more flamboyant than my brothers did.  I finally had to start cutting lawns and shoveling snow (not at the same time though!) to make money so I could buy the clothes that I liked.  And when I grew out of them, my younger sister was overjoyed to get them!  So we could keep up the “hand-me-down” tradition.  Maybe that’s why I was her favorite brother!  I didn’t mind the styles of the hand-me-down shoes though (sometimes they even matched the outfits I bought!) but what I didn’t like is that they almost always had holes in them.  I had to get up early in the morning the day after I got a pair of shoes and sneak over to the neighbors doorstep and steal his morning newspaper so that I could fold up some of it and put it inside my shoe to cover up the hole so I wouldn’t wear out my socks and get blisters on my feet.

Last year, the guy who has the corner across the street from me got blisters on his feet because he had holes in his shoes and they got all infected and skanky and sore.  He didn’t want to go to the hospital because he didn’t have any money and couldn’t pay and he didn’t want to be a burden on society by making somebody else pay for his medical visit to the ER (ER!  I got that one from the TV too!) so, he kept on putting it off and putting it off but eventually he had to get it taken care of because it got so skanky, it started to rot and started moving up his foot and into his leg.  But that’s not why he went to the hospital.  He finally went to the hospital because it rotted so bad that it started to stink….really bad.  It stunk so bad that people walking down the street wouldn’t come anywhere near him.  And believe you me, when you make your living panhandling, it gets very tough to keep up when people won’t come anywhere near you.  So what he did was, he waited until afternoon rush hour one day and hobbled himself out into the middle of traffic and threw himself against a passing car and pretended he got hit.  Well, the police came and the ambulance came and they took him away, to the hospital I guess, but I don’t really know. 

But I’ll tell you what, Barney, when the police and the ambulance got there, I think they wanted to leave that poor guy in the middle of the street because he stunk so bad from that rotten foot (and, I guess, because he hadn’t had a bath in about five years) that they didn’t want to go anywhere near him.  Finally, they had to wait for the fire department truck to come because they had those tanks of air with the face masks that they could put on so they wouldn’t have to smell him and when they got those masks on, then they put him in the back of the ambulance and they took him away.  Funny though, even though it was the middle of winter, the guys in the ambulance had the windows wide open! It seems to me that this would be a really bad waste of heat, don’t you think?  I keep thinking about how I always hear on the TV in the electronics store about how we need to conserve energy and not use so much oil and stuff and here these guys are just letting heat pour right out of that ambulance.  I’m sorry now that I wasn’t paying closer attention so I could get the license number of that ambulance because now that I have friends in Washington (you and Bobby Gibbs, the secretary), I could have turned these guys in to you and you could do something, couldn’t you Barney?  With you being the king of banks and all, I figure you could find out if these guys had a loan out of this ambulance and if they did, you could foreclose on them.  And when you foreclose on them, doesn’t that mean that you could take their ambulance away from them and then sell it to someone else?  At first, I thought this would be a bad idea because you know, ambulances help people and stuff but then I thought, well, if you take that ambulance away from those energy wasters and sell it to somebody else, it’s a win-win (I learned that from watching Jeopardy on the TV in the electronics store).  We would get rid of a bunch of energy wasting ambulance drivers which is good for the planet and the government gets some additional money from the sale of the ambulance.  Who could ask for more than that?

I guess old Tex wouldn’t have been happy if no ambulance would have showed up to take him to the hospital but I figure that in the big picture, he’s not paying any taxes or anything or anything so nobody would really miss him if he croaked.  I’m not even sure if they would take care of him when he got to the hospital.  I mean he doesn’t pay taxes and he doesn’t contribute anything to society and if they fix him up at the hospital, well, somebody’s going to end up paying for it don’t you think?  I wouldn’t blame them if they took him into a back room somewhere and shot him up full of poison, wrapped him in a plastic bag, put him in the bottom of the trash dumpster and covered him up with all of the leftover food from the hospital that the patients don’t eat.  There is always plenty of that because nobody eats the slop they serve in hospitals.  Even the stray dogs that hang around the back of the hospitals won’t eat it.  As soon as they smell it, whooo!, they go looking somewhere else for something to eat.

And I’m thinking that those stray dogs better stay out of Chinatown!  Because I’ll tell you what, Barney, there’s a saying down here that “There’s no stray dogs in Chinatown”.   I didn’t used to know what that meant until one day, I was cruising through Chinatown looking for something to eat (I don’t mind looking through the garbage in Chinatown.  Their garbage is better than the food they serve in those hospitals, I’ll tell you that right now).  Anyway Barney, I was trying to get some scraps out of the garbage can behind the Hong Kong Custom Diner when a dog came up and tried to rip the scraps of garbage right out of my hand.  We were fighting over it, you know?  I was cursing at him and he was growling at me and I guess they heard us inside the restaurant because the owner, Chef Cliff, came out with a baseball bat and he clubbed that dog right over the head and knocked him out or, maybe killed him, I don’t know.  Anyway, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a fiver and gave it right to me!  I don’t know what for but he did!  Then he took the dead dog inside the restaurant and that was the last I saw of that dog.  Or Chef Cliff for that matter.  I started to wonder what Chef Cliff was going to do with that dog and I got really concerned.  I worried and worried but I’ll tell you what, I didn’t go into his restaurant and buy lunch with that five dollars.  No sir!  I’ve got standards, you know Barney?  Besides, these days, five bucks ain’t worth shit!  You can’t even get a decent pack of smokes for five bucks!

I was so worried that I went right down the street to the state store and bought myself the best bottle of wine that five dollars could buy and, well okay, it wasn’t the best bottle of wine five dollars could buy but it was the MOST wine five dollars could buy.  Then, I went back to my corner and got blitzed.  I wanted to forget all about that dog.  And that is what made me think about writing to you, Barney.  I was thinking about that dog and I remembered that when I was young, I used to have a dog and guess what?  Yep, his name was Barney too!  He was really a fun dog.  I think he was really happy and fun and that is what makes me think that the name Barney is just such a fun name.  How can anyone named Barney not be fun, you know?

And that reminds me of a story, if you have a minute.  When I was a kid and we had that dog, whose name was Barney, my mother used to say to me “Wil, always look out for number one.  And try not to step in number two”.  Get it?  At first, I thought she was trying to be funny but then I realized, hey, Barney leaves number two all over the place!  So my mom was just looking out for me!  That was quite a revelation for me.  I wonder what she would say if she were alive today and knew that I have an actual U.S. Congressman as a good friend!  I bet she would be proud of me!  I can just hear her now: “Wil, I’m proud of you”.  Knowing how she felt about politicians, she would probably have encouraged me to send you ten percent of all the money I get begging on the corner.  She would tell me that it was the least I could do for you seeing as how you are trying so hard to look out for “the little guy”.

Anyway, I guess I forgot to tell you that my name is Wil.  But nobody calls me that, at least down on the corner.  Most people that I see call me scumbag or dirtball or bum or something like that.  But the other bums, they call me “Duke”.  They call me Duke because I have the northwest corner and the west part of northwest makes them think of cowboys and of course the greatest cowboy of all time was John Wayne!  And his friends used to call him Duke.  So that is what my brothers on the corner call me.  And the guy they took to the hospital, you know, the one with the cruddy foot?  We call him Tex.  Can you guess why?  Okay, I’ll tell you.  Because he has the southwest corner and the south is really close to Mexico (some people tell me that Mexico is so close that it is actually here in the U.S.!) and Mexico is right next to Texas.  So we call him Tex.  We thought about calling him “Mex” but that just didn’t sound as good as Tex.

Speaking of Tex, he was gone for a long time after he was “hit” by that car.  And while he was gone, times were good!  Because since Tex owns that corner, and the code of the street says that nobody else can take his place on that corner and so people who were coming in my direction by crossing at his corner weren’t getting hit up by Tex for money so that when they got to my corner, they still had some change jingling in them pockets!  And so, revenue was up for me.  For a while.  That’s how I was able to buy this paper so I could write to you, Barney.  Well okay, I “borrowed” this paper from the drug store but you know, it’s the least they could do for me seeing as how much business I send them.  Yeah, when people are walking by my corner and they see me, some of them duck into the drug store to avoid having to look at me (or, smell me, I guess).  And they always buy something in there.  I think this is kind of unfair.  The drug store makes money from me being there and I don’t get a nickel of it.  That doesn’t seem right.  And believe me, today a nickel ain’t worth shit!  But now that I have a friend in Washington D.C. (that’s you Barney!), I know that things are going to start getting better for me.  When I tell people that Barney Frank is my best friend, they really look at me differently.

Listen, I hope its okay that I called you Barney instead of Congressman Frank?  I can’t quite put my finger on it but it just sounds too familiar.  It sounds like I’m calling you by your first name!  You know, like “Hello Congressman Ed!” or, “Hello Congressman Joe!”.  I can’t quite bring myself to do it.

Okay so, you just keep going there in Washington, Barney.  You keep working for “the little guy”.  God knows we need your help.  I thought things were getting better after Tex went to the hospital and I started raking in the doe but now, he’s back on the corner and he’s making more money than ever because people feel sorry for him on account of he only has one leg.  I forgot to tell you that his leg was so disgustingly infected that they had to cut it off above the knee.  Now, not only does he make more money begging because people feel sorry for him, he also gets some kind of government check because of his “disability”.  Disability my ass.  He’s better off now than he was before he got his leg cut off.  But he’s plenty jealous of me because I know a famous Congressman!

We don’t call him Tex anymore. Now, we call him Woody.  Can you guess why?  Yep, its because he has a wooden leg!  It’s probably not made of wood in this day and age but it just wouldn’t seem right to call him “Plastic-ee”.

Anyway, I have to go now because work is starting to let out and I have to get “a beggin”, if you know what I mean.  But before I go, I would like to thank you for being my friend.  Maybe we could be pen-pals? My brother said that you could mail letters to his house and he would drop them off at my vent on his way to work.

And I would like to help you out too, in return for all you do for me.  I would like to come up there to Boston (or wherever it is you are from) and do some campaigning for you.  As we get close to election time, I’ll get you to send me some bus fare and I’ll come right on up there and help you all I can.

And who knows, Barney, maybe with your influence with banks, maybe you could help me get a mortgage.  And then, when I can’t pay it (because I’m a bum), you could use your influence with the president to get him to bail me out!  Sweet!

Anyway, you keep going and I’ll keep looking for you on the TV. 

Bye for now, Barney!

Your friend,

Wil Goodwin

P.S. I sure would like to get an autographed picture of you!  I just chatted with Bobby Gibbs over at the White House and I think he’s going to send me a picture and be my pen-pal too!

The Lost Letters of Wil Goodwin

Every once in a while you meet someone who has a profound effect on your life and you never want to forget what this person meant to you or how powerful their influence was on you.  If you are lucky, you will have at least one of these people come into your life at some point but some people never have this privilege.  I have been lucky enough to have two or three of these people cross my path in my many years on this earth and I am a better person for it.  As it happens,  Wil Goodwin is not one of them!  Wil Goodwin is actually a bum!  A real old fashioned bum!  He lives on the street at the intersection of 17th and Locust in the City of Brotherly Love that is sometimes known as Philadelphia.  Wait a minute, make that the other way around.  Anyway.

I met Wil Goodwin one day as I was walking downtown doing some people watching/site seeing and he came up to beg some money from me.  I wasn’t quite paying attention to where I was walking as I was looking around at stuff but I could smell him as I got closer to him and I saw him just in time to bump into him and get some of his crust on my jacket but lucky for me, he is pretty skinny (he probably only weighs about one hundred pounds soaking wet if he didn’t have all of the dirty clothes and pounds of dirt caked onto him) and he fell over pretty easily.  Now that I am thinking about it, if he was soaking wet, he probably would weigh less because the water would almost have to wash some of the crud off of him.  But that is a story for a different day.

Well, after I knocked him over I felt kind of bad for him so after he picked himself up (I certainly wasn’t going to touch him!), he asked me for some money.  You know, to “help a guy out”.  But I know that if I gave him money that he was going to go to the liquor store across the street and by liquor or cigarettes or something and I just wasn’t going to support that.  I think smoking is terrible!  So I told him that instead of me giving him money for liquor, I would buy him the liquor myself.  That way, I know that he wouldn’t buy any cigarettes!  I asked him what he liked to drink and he told me that he likes Jack Daniels “old #7” sour mash whiskey so I went over to the state liquor store and bought him a gallon of Mad Dog 2020.  He didn’t like it that I didn’t get what he wanted but I told him that beggars can’t be choosers!  That was the first time I ever actually used that line on a beggar!

Well, after a couple of chugs, he thanked me for not ignoring him and told me that in return for my kindness, he was going to give me some letters that he had written to famous people (well, some of them may have been “semi-famous”) and would I mind putting them in the mail for him.  I could use the money that I didn’t spend for cigarettes and buy stamps.  I told him, “what the hey” and he gave me the letters.  He told me that some of the letters would probably get answered if they had some place to send them back to.  He wanted to put his return address as “the Northeast corner of 17th and Locust” but he didn’t figure the post office would deliver to a “corner”.  I think he is right on that one.  Anyway, I said I would read his letters and update them with my address as the return address and if I got any replies, I would bring them down some time as I was passing through town and maybe just pitch them out the window of my car as I was passing by and he could pick them up off the street.  He thought that was a pretty good arrangement so he gave he the letters.

I took the letters home and read them one by one and thought that they were very interesting and thought that other people might be interested in what a real life bum had to say so I am going to put them up on this site a little at a time and see if anyone else things they are interesting.  At the same time, I will mail them to the appropriate people and if I get answers, I’ll put those up here as well.  I will, of course, do as I told Goodwin I would and take them down to his corner and chuck them out the window.

I’m calling these letters, “the lost letters of Wil Goodwin” because, well, when he said he wanted to give them to me he couldn’t actually find them!  He had to look under about six layers of raggy old clothing before he found them and when he found them, I asked him to put them into one of the bags I was carrying so that I could wait till I got home and got some gloves on before I touched them.  So.

Now that I have said all of this, I will present to you the first of the “Lost Letters of Wil Goodwin”……….

The first letter I read was to former the former press secretary to the president, Robert Gibbs:

Hello Secretary Gibbs!

I have been watching you on TV since January and it is clear to me that you are the guy who knows what is going on when it comes to, well, pretty much everything!  You must really be a smart fellow and I bet your mom and dad are really proud of you!  Oops!  Should I have capitalized mom and dad?  I bet you know the answer to that one!

Anyway, here is what I am trying to find out and I’m hoping you can explain it to me in a way that my simple mind can understand:

I’m hearing a lot of people on the TV and the radio who are making fun of the President (and you too sometimes) and calling him names and saying that we are spending too much money and that if we keep on spending money like this that really bad things are going to happen, like the Chinese are going to take over because we owe them so much money or, that interest rates are going to go up really high (maybe even higher than they were when Jimmy Carter was president).  And also, people keep saying that “our children” are going to have to pay off all of this debt and that this is bad.  Well, let me tell you something right now, I don’t think any of these things are bad things!

First, as far as “my children” paying off the debt for all the money you’re borrowing, I say, it’s about time these bloodsuckers paid me back for something!  I paid for their diapers and the snobby private school their mother sent them to (hey, I made out okay in my crappy public school!) and college.  It’s about time I got paid back for something.  And I could use some cash since after the kids got out of college and I got stuck with their bills, their mother divorced me and cleaned me right out!  She even got most of my pension and so now, I’m going to have to work till I drop dead!  So I say, thank god that you and the president are there looking out for me otherwise I might actually have to look for a real job (right now, I own the corner of 17th and Locust in downtown Philadelphia) (Well, I don’t really own it!  I’ve just been there longer than any of the other bums and so I have seniority!).  I make a pretty good nickel there on holidays.  Boy, if Uncle Sam knew how much I was getting just pan-handling….oops!  Never mind! I know you wouldn’t begrudge me a little cigarette money would you?

Anyway, I guess I drifted off the tangent there for a minute, Mr. Secretary Gibbs!  By the way, last week, I found out what a tangent is!  All these years I’ve been using that word and not knowing what it meant!  Now, I know!  And I tell you the next time a couple of buckaroos pass my palm, I’m not going to buy smokes, I’m going right over to Giovanni’s grocery and get a dozen tangents.  They’re right in between the grapefruits and the oranges but only in the springtime.

Oh yeah, I was just telling you about the interest rates going up.  I say this: I don’t care a hoot!  If interest rates go up, the president can get more money back for all of that money we loan out to the car companies and the banks and to the college kids that borrow all their tuition cause their too lazy to work while they are in school.  High interest is the price they have to pay for being lazy (and partying and getting drunk every weekend.  Believe you me, I know they do this because every weekend, I go down to the college part of town (Penn, Drexel and all them other hoity toity schools and when they get really drunk, they come outside to do “number one” on the side of the buildings and a lot of times, they leave their half filled beer bottles outside after they go back in.  Jackpot!!!!!  The beer must really be flowing in there if they can leave half full bottles outside.  You know, when I was young, if you didn’t drink all the beer you took, people would call you “Hector”.  I don’t know why they did that but nobody ever called me Hector, I’ll tell you that right now!).  So how they can be so lazy and not work but still afford beer is beyond me.  It sounds like they have a pretty sweet gig so if they have to pay more so that I won’t have to work till I die, good!  You go for it Mr. President!  And you too Mr. Secretary Gibbs!

Here’s something else I was thinking about:  I have heard people call you and the president “Progressives”.  I don’t know what that means exactly but I can’t see how it could be a bad thing.  You know, when I was a kid, most of the secretaries that I know were all chicks (well, sometimes they were old hens! If you know what I mean) but they were all girls.  If you ever saw a boy secretary, you were pretty certain that he was gay.  Although we didn’t call them gay back then.  Gay used to mean “happy and really having a good time”!  Now it means something else.  I’m not sure how it got from “homosexual” to gay.  They don’t even have any of the same letters in them!  And here is something else I can’t figure out:  how come a male homosexual is “gay” but a girl homosexual is a “lesbian”?  I would have thought they would b be either gay, or lesbian or both homosexuals but the way it is now, I can’t keep it all straight.  I wish I was a smart fellow like you!

Anyway, the president sure has a lot of guys as secretaries and that really is progress!  There are still some girl secretaries though, like Mrs. Clinton so the girls are still represented!

Okay so the last thing on my mind is the Chinese taking over.  I know that the president would never let this happen at least while he is still the commander in chief. I can just see him standing on the shores of the Pacific Ocean (probably in California because he likes it so much there and they like him so much there) with his commander in chief uniform on daring the Chinese people to come in and take over.  I know that I would be standing behind him every step of the way!  Even if we were taken over by the Chinese, it wouldn’t be so bad, I think.  There are so many of them that just think of the things we could do with them!  You talk about Mexicans doing jobs that Americans just won’t do!  If we had even one of their billions over here, we could have them competing with the Mexicans for jobs working in the fields, picking lettuce and other fruits. Everyone know that competition makes things cheaper!  Cheaper fruit would almost make up for the high interest rates!  We wouldn’t have to pay the Chinese workers very much because they are used to being slaves over there in China so being over here would be like a breath of fresh air for them.  Really, a breath of fresh air.  I hear that the air over there really stinks!  I don’t know how they get away with that.  They must not have anyone over there like Al Gore (the old VEEP!).  Cause if they did, he’d sure straighten them out!  I can even think of a really cool slogan for him.  Ready?  Here it is:  “Go Gore”!  Isn’t that sweet?

Alright so I know that you have to go.  You’ve been reading this letter for a long time!  I had to write it fast though because it’s not my paper!  I went into the public library to go “number one and number two” when I saw some guy get up from a table to look for a book or something and he left this paper on the table so I thought I would just help myself!  It’s the least that guy could do don’t you think?  He has plenty of paper.  But I didn’t steal it.  Oh no, I left three cigarettes on his table.  In this town, they are worth about a buck twenty.  Oh yeah, I took a stamp too.  What good is paper if you can’t write on it and then put it into an envelope and then lick it closed and put a stamp on it and put it in the mail?  I still think three smokes covers it.

By the way, my mother used to tell me always to look out for number one….and try not to step in “number two”.  I can’t tell if she was trying to be funny or if she was trying to protect me because I know it would have been bad for me to step in “number two” because most of my shoes had holes in them (I had to wear my brothers old shoes…we couldn’t afford new ones what with my dad drinking most of his paycheck before he ever got home from work on payday.

So no kidding, I really have to go now or I could lose my spot on the corner.  Even though I have seniority, well I don’t really because we don’t have a union.  We are just bums.  But I bet if we could have that card-check thing, we could get a union going.  And then we could demand to get paid something.  I don’t know who we could demand it from but I just know we could find someone who would do it.  I’m betting that even the president would help us with this one!   Talk about progress!  If the bums had a union, now that would be progress!

One more thing I’m dying to know then I’ll let you go.  You are a secretary but a really important secretary, not just a regular one.  You don’t see regular secretaries on TV every day.  Is your office right outside the president’s office?  Do you get to “buzz” people in?  And one more thing,.  Since you are a really important secretary, do you have your own secretary?  If you do, is it a boy or a girl?  Is he/she called “secretary to the secretary?

Okay, bye for now!  I really enjoyed chatting with you.  I sure hope you can find a few minutes to write back to me.  Even if it is only to say “hi”!  I’ve never had a pen-pal before.  Those guys on the other corners would slit my throat if they thought I had a nickel!  Well, maybe not a nickel cause these days, a nickel ain’t worth diddely.

Anyways, my brother said you could write back to me at his address and that when he gets mail for me, he will leave it on top of the northwest corner steam vent at 17th and Locust on his way to work.  So thanks in advance for writing back!  Keep on typing!  (that’s secretary talk!)

Your new friend,

Wil Goodwin

P.S.  I sure would love to have an autographed picture of you!

Obama: Smartest man in the room or biggest dope?

The media and various other supporters would like you to think that Barak Obama is as smart as they tell you that he is.  He is generally portrayed as the smartest man in whatever room he is in.  If you listen to them (and President Obama himself), you will hear that this work of the presidency is “beneath” his intellect and that he is “bored” with it.  That is why he must go on so many golf vacations.  It doesn’t bother me that he is going back on his campaign pledge to give up all his vacations and spend every waking moment working for the American People.  I don’t care about that.  As my television idol Dr. House is fond of saying, “everybody lies”.  And of course, politicians lie more than most.  So that doesn’t bother me.

I don’t care about what he “cares about” and “doesn’t care about” and I don’t care about him.  What I do care about is that he and his handlers and sops in the media want us to know how smart he is when in truth, and I really believe this, I think he is a complete dope. What president needs to have a Blackberry on his belt?  I have a Blackberry and that doesn’t make me smart.  A president doesn’t need to have a Blackberry or an iPhone or a cell phone of any kind.  He has people at his elbow at every waking moment of his day.  From the time he comes out of his bedroom (and maybe before, I don’t know, I’ve never been president) he has people that would go and get him an ice cream cone or a cheese steak if that is what he wanted.  Or, he could tell a general to go get him a copy of Rolling Stone if he wanted and within about 5 minutes, he’d have it.  He has absolutely no need to have a communication device of any kind on his person.  Knowing what we know about the NSA now and how easy it is to spy on electronic devices, the only things that could happen from him having a phone on his person are bad things.

And this is where my theory develops that he is not really very bright but rather a gifted speaker who can easily recite things that are put into his mouth by someone else.

Have you seen him on the campaign trail (before both elections)?  When he is on teleprompter, he is a wonderful speaker.  This is because he is completely “on script”.  On the couple of occasions that the teleprompter has failed, he appears to be the proverbial deer in the headlights.  When he goes to town hall meetings or, when he is in debates before the elections, if he is asked a question or challenged on any subject that is not based on “ideology”, he can’t seem to answer a simple question!  He is almost as bad as Joe Biden or as bad as Ted Kennedy used to be with the “re’s and ah’s.  He reminds me of Commander McHale of McHales Navy when he got caught by Captain Binghamton and had to explain something that he couldn’t explain!   “Ah, wella wella wella, hammana hammana hammana, but but but”…..etc.  He’s got nothing.  Any serious analysis of his performances at totally “off the cuff” encounters with the press or with people will reveal that he demonstrates the characteristics of a dim bulb and not able to provide a coherent, meaningful answer to a thoughtful question.  I don’t count his performances at press conferences because the White House political machine can almost guarantee that the questions that are asked are friendly to what the president has been told they are going to ask.  They are entirely too much of a staged event for me to consider them as evidence that he is knowledgeable about any specific topic.  Back in the day, I think it was Wednesday, we used to call people like this “not the sharpest pencil in the box” or “dumb as a box of rocks” or “10 eggs short of a dozen” or, “the lights are on but nobody is home”or a buffoon (wait, that is reserved for John Kerry) or, well, you get the idea.

Barack Obama, by all of the indicators that I see is a not very smart, well spoken puppet who needs to have the elegant words that he speaks put into his mouth (or, on his teleprompter).   There, I’ve said it.

So I wish that he would make like a tree and beat it.

Blind Leading Dogs welcome here

Really.  A sign on the door of my local post office said this “Blind leading dogs welcome here”.  I’m very hurt by this.  What does this say about us as Americans?  Now I know why, as I was driving up to the post office, I saw two guys with sunglasses and canes at the door of the post office banging on the door screaming.  I had to post a couple of letters so I went up to the door and asked them why they were doing what they were doing.  They answered that they weren’t sure why the people at the post office locked the door when they saw these guys approaching but that now the doors are locked and they can’t get in.

Well, this made me pretty mad so I went back to my car and got the phone number for the home office of the United States Postal Service and I called them on the phone and asked them, in just the nicest terms I could, just exactly what the deuce is going on here at this post office!  When I said, “what the deuce is going on at this post office branch”, they asked me what I meant by “what the deuce”.  And they said that if I cursed at them again, they were going to have someone from the domestic army come over to this post office and teach me a lesson.  Well, I told them that “what the deuce” isn’t a curse word, it’s just an old way of asking “what are you shitheads doing”.  Once I explained that to them, they understood and were okay with it.  Anyway.

So, I told them what was going on and they said that if I wanted to come back to this office later, the doors would probably be open.  If I wanted to get in now, I could “go around the back” and knock on the door like this:  knock, knock knock, really hard knock” and they would let me in to take care of my business.  Well, this struck me as odd because I’ve never quite seen or heard of something like this.  When I asked them why weren’t they letting the guys at the front door in, they told me to go take a good look at them.  So I did.  The only thing I noticed was that they both seemed to be blind (or alternately seeing or stone blind or hard of seeing or eyesight disabled or visually impaired).  So, I went to the back door and did my “knock, knock knock, really hard knock” thing and the door cracked open and they let me in.  I went up to the front counter, took care of my business and as I was ready to leave, the postal clerk told me I had to go out the back door otherwise, the people at the door might get in.

I took this opportunity to ask them why there weren’t letting in these people.  Seems to me, they appeared to be good taxpaying regular people who just happen to be blind (or alternately seeing or stone blind, or whatever).  Anyway, they told me to go to out to the lobby (quietly since the people outside the door are blind and won’t see me there) and take a look on the door to see if I noticed anything.  So I did.  And that is when I saw it. The sign.  “Blind leading dogs welcome here”.  That is when I knew what was going on.  It didn’t say anything about “blind leading the blind welcome here”.

Well, that’s the post office for you!  When I got back to my car, I hollered out the window to these guys and told them that they should go get a couple of dogs from the pound and then everything will be hunky-dory with the old post office!

Frankie Farnsworth’s Basement

The year is 2021 and a huge discovery has been made in a call lab in Frankie Farnsworth’s basement.  It is a huge scientific discovery, maybe the biggest of all time.  It is sure to change the world in a major, positive way if only Frankie can figure out a way to get it out of the house.  You see, it’s not his house, it belongs to his mother.  And his mother was an inventor of some repute…..at least in her own mind.

She is still mad at the guvment in Warshindc for not giving her a patent for disproving the claim of the ABC Baking Company that their flour is “all purpose” flour.  How can you call four “all purpose flour” if you can’t use it to be a window?  Or a tire for a car or a telephone?  Frankie Farnsworth’s mother was absolutely correct in these assertions but unfortunately, the guvment employee who read her patent application thought that  there was something in her brain that was disconnected.  That’s not exactly what he said.  His exact words to her were that she had a screw loose.

Anyway, she had a pretty good nose for inventions and was always snooping around the basement to see what Frankie was doing down there.  If she thought for one minute that Frankie had an invention down there that stood half a chance of being something of actual value, she would have declared eminent domain on the basement and tossed Frankie out on his ear and too his invention as her own.  And this worried Frankie.  It worried him a lot because he knew that if his invention fell into the wrong hands, it could be used for massive evil instead of good.  And Frankie definitely wanted this to be used for good purposes.  The main reason for this is that Frankie had “scoped out” what his invention would be worth on the market and he found that evil didn’t pay as well as good and that is why he wanted his invention to be used for good.  He was very practical that way.

So anyway, what did this invention do and how did it work?  And what made it so good?  Well, I’ll give you a hint…..it had to do with perpetual motion and how it can be used to generate very inexpensive electricity.  MMMMM, perpetual motion!  Impossible.  So says all of the important scientists that have ever lived.  But what do they know.  If you can make a machine that is a perpetual motion machine, then doesn’t that put all of the theory that says you can’t make a perpetual motion machine right in the old hooskow?  Frankie has demonstrated how you can generate electricity by using a perpetual motion machine and as soon as he can find a way to get the device out of his basement without his skank of a mother finding out and, as soon as he can find a way to have a major payday by selling this idea to this highest bidder (good or evil), he will let the world know how it works and how he has proven every reputable scientist that ever lived to be wrong.

I’d like to tell you the secret of perpetual motion and how (or if!) Frankie cashes in on this but…..I have to go to the little earthlings room so you will have to tune in to the next post to find out!

A brief word of encouragement for President Obama

Note to President Obama:

Sir, I think you are on the right track with you ‘myth making’ stories!  My advice to you would be to go for the whole ten yards and make every story you touch completely yours.

What do I mean by that?  Well, first of all, you as the big football fan that you are should notice that I said “the whole ten yards”.  Get it?  A lot of people like to say “yeah, go for the whole nine yards” when they mean “everything”.  Well, you and I both know that in football, “the whole nine yards” would be equivalent to “doodley squat”.  When you get a first down, they don’t say “it’s a first and nine for the Bears”.  No, they say it is a first and ten.

So that is the secret that you can start to take advantage of beginning right now.  The morons in congress are used to going for “the whole nine yards”.  You should start going for the whole ten yards and you will be three steps ahead of them.  Well, I guess you might be one point five steps ahead of them because you are a really tall guy (I’ve heard) and one years is probably only one point five steps to you whereas it is probably three steps for us mere mortals.

Please write back and let me know what you think.

P.S.  I have been thinking about ideas that you could use to get people convinced that they need you to have a third term.  I know this is against the law now but the law hasn’t stopped you so far so what let it stop you now?

Here is one reason that I’m trying to convince you that you need at least one more term:  Joe Biden and Hillary Clinton.  You can’t really want that senile imbecile Biden to be the next president can you?  The only reason he hasn’t gotten us blown up so far is that you have been there to yank on his leash when he starts to go off the reservation.  And I know that you are good at yanking the leash because I read somewhere that Michelle said that she has you on a leash and that every once in a while, she gives it a “tug” just to let you know who is the boss!

I’m not sure where I heard that but I know that I did!  I think maybe it was either on Oprah or from Tex Whetherly (the bum who shares the corner of 17th and Locust with me).  And listen, I wouldn’t trust that Oprah if I were you.  She seems friendly and all and it sure seems on the surface that her and Michelle hate each others guts but I think that is just a front, if you know what I mean.  I don’t think they hate each other at all!  I think they work together to get you to do what they want you to do.  I heard this through the grapevine!  (Not really, there is no grapevine out here in the middle of the city but you know what I mean).  You know that Michelle has all the ideas of what she wants done and Oprah has all the “hottie good looks” that ring your chimes (I’ve seen the way you look at her!).  Oh yeah, and she has plenty of doe, ray, me!  When ever you get done with the Whitehouse thing and are tired of guiding us along the path to mediocrity, you can dump Michelle (if she doesn’t dump you first) and you can shack up with Oprah.  And when I say “shack”, I’m just being facets….fascits…..funny, you know?  Her shack is actually pretty sweet!  I know because I once was in Illinois where it is and so I’ve been pretty close to it.  Anyway, you could go there and hide out from Michelle and even if she came looking for you (which she won’t), she wouldn’t find you in two years.  I was going to say ‘a million years’ but really, no one could ever live that long even you, who I understand are some kind of messiah or something.  I’ve never actually met a messiah so I wouldn’t know but I heard that Wiley Willie over on 12th and Arch tells his girls that he is their saviour!  I don’t know if that is the same thing but if it is, he better start saving them because most of them are pretty scurvy looking.  Brown teeth (the ones that are still there), scabs all over them and yellow, nicotine hands and stuff.  I don’t think he is doing a very good job of saving.  Oh, and by the way, I went to the dentist last week and I said “Doc, my teeth are turning yellow, what should I do?”.  He said, “wear a brown tie.”  Listen, you can’t get this stuff just anywhere!

Anyway, where was I?  I don’t know so let me wrap this up by saying (or, writing if you want to be precious……precaur……accurate) that you should go all the way with your lies.  Don’t go half way.  Don’t go “the whole nine yards”, go “the whole ten yards”.  Tell people that all of the stuff that you promised them is already happening.  Tell them that thirty seven million people have signed up for Obamacare and that only fifteen people have actually been “chucked off” of their insurance.  Who’s going to know?   And even if they know, who’s going to say? Tell them that all of the people who are out there saying how bad it is and how none of the things you said were going to happen are actually happening are idiots and small pea-wits and dopes.  Oh yeah, and Republicans (yeah, same thing!).  YOU are the president, not them.  They are just wanna be something somethings.  They couldn’t get real jobs doing real work so they just spend their lives complaining and whining about stuff.  That is typical of Republicans and frankly, anyone who doesn’t like you (present company excepted!  I don’t like you one bit but I think you are great and I don’t complain about you at all!).  Who do you think people are going to believe, you, the president or some bunch of whining, complaining rich white hacks who don’t like you anyway?  My sentiments exactly!

Anyways, you make sure that you stay as cool as you are!  don’t listen to anyone except Oprah (she is the future!).  And when you two are together, don’t let her call you, for a nickname, “BO” because that means something not very nice.  I can’t remember what it is but my mother used to call me that and then I always had to go up to the shower.

Alright, bye for now Mr. P. …….you take it nice and easy and I’ll write to you again soon,

Your pal,

Wil Goodwin

What’s it all about!

“So as you know, the moon is made out of green cheese”, says the dad.

“Well dad”, says the son, “this just confirms my suspicion that you are an idiot. The moon is made out of rocks, and various unremarkable ores and stuff like that”.

“Oh”, says the dad….”where you there?”