Letter to Iraq

In my post detailing the skeleton of my urinal code reform agenda, I mention that I won’t be able to fix Iraq. Sometimes I don’t give myself enough credit. I’ve reversed my decision. I will fix it. Republicans (or at least the President) think the answer is sending more troops. Democrats (or at least Tim Robbins) think the answer is talking. I think they’re all idiots. The answer to any life problem, as 2HW has proved time and again, is writing letters.

Dear Iraq,

What’s up? I have a riddle for you.

When I was in elementary school, Ulysses S. Anderson was the big man on campus. He had it all. The ladies loved him. He was athletic and smart. And he wore Lee jeans rolled up at the ankle and Vans shoes that had mirrors on them. The greater Ulysses became, the more a handful of small men on campus resented him. Then one day, the small men recruited a thug named Onn Bon Lovi to beat the hell out of Ulysses. He never saw it coming and through his tears and pain, he noticed Ira Quanza laughing at him. So, instead of seeking out Bon Lovi and paying him back, Ulysses kicked Ira in the nuts.

I’d write the answer to the riddle upside down at the bottom of the page if I knew how to do that, but since I don’t here’s the answer, “The doctor is the boy’s mother”.

If I become President and promise not to kick you in the nuts again, will you promise to not let genocide-loving dictators take power in your country? If you agree to my plan for peace, please let me know by not responding to this letter.

If for some reason, not responding to this letter doesn’t solve your problems, I’ll send over my Secretary of the Exterior, Ty Pennington, to give your country an Extreme Makeover. You’ll be so blown away with how hot he is that you won’t even care that he builds themed rooms that lack every day practicality.

Mission accomplished.

Thanks,
Matt H. Wonder