Thursday, January 18, 2007

President Gerald R. Ford: Dead Man Talking

Dear President Ford,

I never thought I'd be writing you like this, telling you to shush up and to stop making such an awful ghoul of yourself.

Indeed, I am dashing this off quickly before you go and say something else that would horrify your adoring public who wants to remember you fondly. I mean you were the prototype former president: respected, stately, revered and er, quiet. That is, until you went and opened your big mouth from the grave.

First, it was Bush and the War in Iraq, then it was Jimmy Carter--and heaven knows I'm no fan of Carter and totally agree with your assessment, however ill-timed--and then you started in on Reagan and the fall of communism!

That was quite a tirade and frankly, sir, you went way to far on that one.

If you felt so strongly about these things, you should have said them while you were still on the golf course. Better yet, you should have started your own blog, "Jerry's Gerrymandering," or something like that. And you could have said everything you needed to and then enabled a "comments section," and even moderated the feedback.

But no, you had to wait and let newspaper people blab for you after you were gone. That's quite regrettable, quite regrettable really.

I'm afraid of what you may say next. I simply couldn't bear to hear you confess that you had a secret crush on Angelina Jolie. Or that you had a clandestine, regular golf game with Castro at Pebble Beach.

All this is outrageous and needs to stop. And the sooner the better.

I googled the words "gag order" to see if it applied to dead people, and I think it does. So I'm doing it right here, right now.

Cease and desist!

If the words "Rest in Peace" mean anything to you, then it's time to take them to heart now. Don't they have a celestial golf course up there somewhere that can keep your occupied?

I still think pretty well of you, and prefer to keep it that way. But I'm afraid your poll numbers have nevertheless dropped since the flags were at half-mast. Don't let them go down any further.

Button up, Sir.



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