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Now available for preorder:
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G A B E   H U D S O N ' S
D E A R   M R .   P R E S I D E N T
L E T T E R S .


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[Write a letter to the president.]

[Read batches one, two, three, four, five,
six, seven, eight, nine, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15,
16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23.]

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[Gabe Hudson, a McSweeney's editor-at-large
and a former rifleman in the Marine Reserves,
wrote a book of fiction,
Dear Mr. President,
about the first Gulf War.
]

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[These letters were compiled by Gabe Hudson, Jessica Rabinowitz, and Kevin Feeney.]

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Dear Mr. President,

You are sleeping on my lap. It's almost dawn, almost time for me to leave. Almost.

When we are together, I feel like a torture device is cranking away at my lungs. A torture device of desire. We have these great conversations, we hang out, we really bond—and then, you don't call me for weeks. Mr. President, I'm confused.

We both knew what we were getting ourselves into, I guess. It still hurts. Especially tonight. We had that tiff around suppertime. When I cupped my hands around my mouth and summoned you to supper, I yelled out, "Mr. President, let's eat!" You walked into the room and angrily said, "That's Mister Mr. President to you!" and I looked down at your slender calves, my eyes gathering tears. You only say that when you are very angry at me.

You went to sleep livid and on the divan. I waited 45 minutes, and slipped beneath you. And now, my lap is your pillow. Your chubby cheeks and your gentle purring noises are on my feathery thighs, and I sadly chuckle—not too loud, though!—and say to myself, "Way to go, Gabriel, way to go." Because I know that I lost you forever today. I chuckle a pitiful chuckle because I am a pitiful me.

We had a good run, kid.

Sincerely,
Gabriel Rocha

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Dear Mr. President,

While I was surfing the Internet this afternoon, I came across your 2003 federal financial disclosure form. I didn't mean to be nosy, but I was pretty curious to see what you were disclosing. I noticed that you received two (2) puzzles as gifts during the year. Are you a big puzzle fan? Do you and the first lady like to relax with a puzzle after a hard day's work? One of the puzzles was apparently valued at $1800. What is this, the GREATEST PUZZLE EVER? I think the most expensive puzzle I ever did cost maybe $12.

Good luck with the puzzles! If you need some more, I have some He-Man and Transformers puzzles in my parents' attic. They are fun.

Sincerely,
Paul DeGeorge

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Dear Mr. President,

I been a watching you on the television when you be a trying to recite them words what other folks is done put up in your mouth. That's when I had one of them thangs called an epiphany.

A lot of them words that them people called the Moral Majority is a giving you is down right wrong according to the Good Book. I believe it's cause they doing a thang called a personal agenda. That's when folks use the words of somebody real famous like God and Jesus and turns them inside out to benefit their self more so than other people. Kind of like the way they is a doing with you. Cause I know you ain't thought up them words on your own, you cain't even say most of them. You is a lot like me and don't really know what is going on in your own life much less the world.

We be occupying other folks' countries and front yards when it say right in the Good Book that we ain't suppose to be a doing such thangs as that. We s'pose to be good neighbors and it shore ain't neighborly to go next door and kick the neighbor's dog or kill his little young'uns when they is outside playing in the street.

I ain't condemning you cause only God is got the right to judge. I'm just a tellin' you what I done read with a open mind.

I really think we need to quit worshiping that Holy Grail that sells for $50 a barrel and git back to worshiping God. It seems to me that them folks like Exxon and Chevron is a making all our policies and that don't hardly seem right, seeing as how the American people is got policies too.

We gits hungry and cold and lose our jobs and them oil industries don't seem real concerned for what ya'll call the Immoral Minority. Most of them names is misnomers anyhow cause they ain't in the majority and they shore ain't moral, at least not according to the Good Book. Folks just think they is in the majority cause everybody is scared of gitting sent off somewhere if they disagree with them that's got power and money.

Anyway you take care and I'll be here if you need anything to help you out. I gots more to say but I know all this is a lot to swaller in one settin'. I really need to start droppin' you a post card ever so often jest to let you know what them Conservative folks is actually say'in in betwixt their quotes and let you know I'm still alive. Anyway, I'll be here providin' I don't git censored or made to go camping at one of them "Concentration Camps" that them types is so fond of.

Sincerely,
Sidney Kidd

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Dear Mr. President,

Maybe now that the people of Iraq have been given the opportunity to elect their own officials and have done so in droves, the rest of the world will finally shut up and quit being so negative.

Thanks for your courage in continuing to pursue what is right and just in the world.

Sincerely,
Brian Casper

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Dear Mr. President,

I received your invitation to the Valentine's Day party to be held on your ranch. Thank you.

I also received the second letter from Secret Double Agent in Charge of Presidential Poetry Mr. John Johnson. Because we both know he is the (wink, wink) son of Dick C. and often scribbles his memos in haste (and on cocktail napkins) without the oft-necessary moment of reflection, I feel comfortable asking you to please reconsider his request that I not read the poem about the zebra not mating with the hyena which did not result in the creation of a xena (not the warrior princess but not unlike a mule) at your party. I think this poem would be more than appropriate for your special V-Day celebration, an affair that will surely be drenched with hearts, cupid, strange erotic dancing, and whatnot.

Sincerely,
Drew Blanchard

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Dear Mr. President,

Sometimes I worry that the latest election was rigged.

But then I realize that it's much scarier that it probably wasn't.

Then I cry, a lot.

Thanks for nothing.

Sincerely,
Bill

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[NOTE: The opinions expressed in these letters do not necessarily represent those of McSweeney's, Knopf, Vintage, Kevin Feeney, Jessica Rabinowitz,
or Gabe Hudson.]

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