Dear Mr. President:
I am a senior on Medicare. I have heard about your scheme to divert $90 for each of us from a fund intended for other purposes, in a transparent, frowuppy attempt to bribe us to vote for your side in the coming election.
SIR, they say that every man has his price. I don’t know whether that’s true. Nor can I be sure whether I, too, have my price.
But SIR, as surely as God made little green apples, and as surely as it DOES rain in Indianapolis in the summertime, my price, SIR, is not goddamn ninety dollars, SIR.
If I ever get my $90, SIR, it will go immediately to support for Democratic candidate—whose first objective, SIR, will be to impeach your fat ass, SIR.
Because, SIR, among your extraordinary list of faults, you, SIR, are a ninny and an incompetent nincompoop, SIR.
Very truly yours,
Ronald Wilson Davis
