FOR DUCKS DO NOT MATE FOR LIFE: SWANS, it is said, mate for life but a) The swans’ life is a mere two-to-four years; and b) Who knows what they get up to when they’re ”migrating”

Sousa’s song, then, might, and, I think, must be interpreted to mean “give the other fella a break.”

IF that is how that poet felt in regard to migrating waterfowl, how much more is it incumbent upon us to extend this leniency to those who bear the burdens of high governmental office?

Please.

Your president, Charles H.P. Smith.

The Fascists, however, in addition to wearing these “shirts” destroyed their countries, rounded up and shot Jews, the Gypsies, the Gays, and generally were not the life of the Party. Nowadays nobody who might be a Fascist can be identified by his shirt. So the right-thinking have taken to calling them out.

People can be called a Fascist for bad-driving, for ticketing bad driving, for having Teenagers, and, occasionally, for their political beliefs.

Calling folks Fascists soothes the mind, and leaves one feeling purged, relaxed and energize. Try it!

Yours Until Victory,
Charles H.P. Smith

That is how I feel about the various agreements, FAFTAN, NAPSTER, and so on, which are sowing overtired Mexican truckdrivers, on both shoulders of our National Highways.

Remember the Neediest, Your President,
Charles H.P. Smith

THE JAPANESE INTERNMENT
Unless the calendar deceives me, we are coming up on the sixty-somethings anniversary of the Japanese Internment.

This is a blot on our National History; but, what can I do – it’s on the calendar?

Best,
Charles H.P. Smith

Well, that doctor may have legitimately feared many things, but one of them was not “the vernal equinox.” The vernal equinox, my friends at the weather service tell me, is nothing more or less than that day or night when the length of the day and the night are equal.

“Equal to what?” you might ask, and there I cannot help you. But they assure me we have nothing to fear.

Your President,
Chas. H.P. Smith

Logic would suggest it somehow divides the Far East and the Near East. The Far East, we understand, is Asia. Or, what used to be called “the East.” No matter that this “east” is to the west of the United States, indeed rater close to Hawaii.

A fact, of course, remarked by the Japanese in 1941, who flew, we will remember east for their “little surprise.” Had they flown west they would have clogged Europe’s aerodromes with a bunch of warplanes, guided by small men in leather helmets and silk scarves, arousing, one must assume, a certain level of suspicion.

Imagine several thousand Japanese bombers landing in Switzerland in 1941, and claiming to be “just passing through.” Someone, that’s right, might have “said” something, changing the course of history.

And I understand that we can no longer refer to “Asia” as “The Orient.” Which, had, to the Asian mind, unfortunate echoes of the films of Keye Luke, conjuring images of “wiliness.”

So be it. (Similarly, we have come to see that it, while of course useful and descriptive, may be other than the thing, to refer to those of Jewish extraction as “a bunch of Hebes.”)

What is the Middle East in the Midst of? You tell me.

The Pres. Chas. H.P. Smith

Let’s consider:

1.) Jimmy Carter was a peanut farmer.

2.) He worked on a nuclear submarine.

Here we have, before us, if we will simply facet the facts, hard evidence of exposure to the two most destructive elements upon this planet: nuclear energy, and trans fats.

Those of us who lived through or near the Sixties will recall the various film animals, swollen out of any resemblance to the normal, who stalked our screens. Yes, Godzilla, and that whole vast crew. How did they get that way? We know the answer: exposure to nuclear power.

The other yoke-mate of this unfortunate scourge is the trans fat. Recall Dan Pope, a policeman in San Francisco who shot the city manager of San Francisco because he (the assailant) had eaten a Twinkie. Dan Pope was exonerated, and I don’t remember what happened to Godzilla: but I know he is recalled with affection (at least by film buffs).

Is it not time, then, for us to extend the had of understanding to this one-time President, whose shame, perhaps, was no shame at all, but merely the result of “being in the wrong place twice?”

We are a kind people, my friends. Remember. And be kind.
Yrs, C.H.P. Smith

Japan did not behave that way, after the Second World Way. (Thou, on reflection, Germany did.) (And now we drive cars manufactured by both nations.)

Perhaps there are some doors man just want’ meant to open. I know that this is the view not only of various religions, but of my handyman, Mr. Krzweski.

Keep Smiling,
Your Pres. Charles H.P. Smith

Robert Preston, we will remember, found the love of his life there, (Marion, the Librarian), and, in challenging times, we recall that there was, indeed, “trouble in River City,” but that everything came out alright when people put on shabby uniforms, and blew into unserviceable trombones.

Support your local library. We have a celebration every year called “Library Week,” or “Learn to Read” or something. On these occasions, go down to your local library. If it is still funded, or (in New Orleans), if you can swim.

If you cannot swim, learn to swim, for, you never know when you will want to or need to swim, or (in New Orleans) read.

The President of the Greatest Country on the Earth, Yours,
Charles H.P. Smith

Several traditional choices:

1) Everyone is a “bad person,” no matter what they do (Calvinism).

2) Everyone is a good person, no matter what they do (Liberalism).

3) Nothing is either good or bad, no matter who does it (Existentialism).

I say it is hard to choose between these three upon their merits, and suggest (and here’s my innovation) choosing on the basis of their geographic origin.

Calvinism comes from Germany or Holland, or something; Liberalism, comes from Vermont; and Existentialism, curiously, from a third cheese-producing venue, “France.”

Now, one might guess these three interesting approaches to sin, being linked to cheese might also have their roots in a digestive dysfunction engendered by cheese. But I say: look deeper: may it not be they come not from “cheese” but from too much time spent around cows?

Your Homespun Philosopher,
Charles H.P. Smith

The horse, of course, was brought here by the Spanish, in their “galleons” borne by those winds which profited in being real rather than figurative, but which, being real, taxed the sailors with their variableness, ensuring many – we will hope – fine night on shipboard, immobile but happy, drinking. Those wines for which Spain is known to this day, and disporting themselves with the younger members of the crew.

Communist art also gave us posters of students (curiously alive) waving “little red books.”
The “little book” fell into disodor here in the “Sixties” being likened (as the little black book with the (no unacceptable) dating strategies of advertising executives. These “executives” would lure, it seems, secretaries to a “three martini lunch,” and then transplant them into a midtown hotel for an afternoon of unlicensed frolic. The little “red” book, on the contrary, contained many fine if impracticable suggestions for the betterment of the human condition and was embraced by millions worldwide, on the pain of death.
I understand that many in post-Communist countries are taking advantage of the new “democracy” to vote Communist. And I say “good,” for I was raised and continue to believe in the adage “never throw anything away.”
You should see my attic!

All the Best,
Charles H.P. Smith, President

“Aniline,” “hegemony,” “prefect,” I have looked these words up time and gain, and, like Chinese food, half an hour later I’ve forgotten their meaning.

I don’t know what they mean. But I retain a belief that someone does.

On the other hand there are words (like “existential,” of “lifestyle”) which, I believe no one knows what they mean. There is no shame in this.

We need only be ashamed when we act cruelly; as when we torture a cat.

A few random thoughts from:

Your President,
Charles H.P. Smith

All in good fun.

But, kidding aside, it is good to be active. Especially if one’s job is sedentary. Like that of a judge.

What do they do? They sit around all day. And years and years of that must take their toll.

For, though they work with their brains, the brain, after all, is a part of the body, and, like the other parts, it needs a good muscle tone.

Am I suggesting those Judges “pump iron,” or go study Muay Thai? No, for the one might prove too strenuous, and the other, as I understand it, is essentially the science of how to kick a man (or woman) in the balls.

But they should I believe, get out more. And there is little quiet as beneficial as a “good brisk walk.”

I know an “activist judge” is someone who flies off the handle and starts taking the law into his own hands. But: don’t you think they’d be less likely to do so if their mind and body was in that harmonic state which only comes from keeping fit? I think so.

Yours,
Charles H.P. Smith, President

Are Episcopalians a cult? They dress alike and mingle only with their own, living in “compounds” from which no one ever leaves. They all drive Volvos and, in warmer months, wear sporty topsiders on the wooden docks of their holdings in Maine. In these same “summer houses” they learn to sail small boats and have sex with their children.

Does this qualify them as a “cult?”

Yes.

Your President,
Chas. H.P. Smith

Unfortunately, some of those grownups do not share these views, and, so, they should be killed.

Peace is good for small children, they may use it to romp about, look at clouds and flowers, or play war.

The President for all the People,
Charles H.P. Smith

But the press, lately, has been carping at her redecoration of The White House.

Well, we live in a free country and that’s their right. But to refer to the style of the décor as “Trailer-Trash Modern” hits below the belt.

For although, yes, she grew up in a border state, and may not have had your or my “advantages,” she has a profound sense of style.

That’s what I noticed of her first, when she was working as a stewardess on a (now defunct) “feeder” airline. She made that small, cramped cabin shine, and what the press refers to as “her little ways,” are, to me, the sign of higher sophistication.

“That’s all she wrote,” Charles Smith, President and Husband

Overcome by A) Emotion, B) The Ineffable Sorrow of Existence, C) Malay Pirates, I instructed A) The Maid, B) the Marines, C) My Personal Shopper, to quickly ________. Therefore, I instruct you to A) Be of Bold Heart, B) Invest in Real Estate, and keep you’re A) Faith, B) Pecker Up.

Your President, and A) Mine, B) Pal, C) Admirer,
C.H.P. Smith

First of all, whether or not it is an “opinion” is open to debate. Secondly, it is my opinion that they’re talking about FEELINGS.

I am not ashamed of my feelings.

My mother taught me, at her knee, to be proud of those feelings I feel.

I am proud, for example, to be an American; and to be a good husband and father. I am proud to have once bowled a perfect game (almost – and I believe the reason for my falling short was a malfunction in the pin spotter. Those bowling with me felt so, too, and wrote a letter both to the (DELETED) Company which made the machine and to the American League of Bowlers, which, had the machine worked as designed, would have sent me their “Perfect Game” sweatshirt. (one has the members of one’s team sign the scoresheet, which is then certified by the Bowling League president – in my case Mr. Sherwin T. Fiske - since deposed, in a curious sidelight – for immoral conduct.)

Yes, I felt “cheated”. Just as now, after the passage of time, I feel proud, yes, proud, of my, I will say “philosophical”, ability to stand the loss.

Feelings make us human. Those who disparage them are thoughtless swine.

Yours, Charles H.P. smith, President.

Yes, I learned, they are allowed to marry more than one wife, but this, then, seemed to me a good idea. And yes, I later learned, they pair up, in late teenage years, and roam the world as missionaries.

As the parent of teenagers, however, this seemed to me, (far beyond being a “good idea”) a stroke of genius. Those are the two things I knew (and know) about Mormons: more than one wife, and get the teenagers out of the house.

Who are these genius peoples in our midst? Welcome them, embrace them, and overlook their questionable traits. For while the Irish, as policemen or Firemen, will drink too much, and the Italians knife each other, all we can set against the Mormons is their persistence in wearing shortsleeve dress shirts. And perhaps it has some religious importance to them. We don’t know.

Welcome them. They guarded Howard Hughes, and they own the State of Utah.

Americans All, Yours,
Charles H.P. Smith, President

In the United States our Creation Myth is “GONE WITH THE WIND.” Watching this movie, however, as have we all, too many times, I am struck by this: why does Big Jim save Miss Scarlett from the Bad Bad Men? Would he not have left her to “stew in her own juice,” after four hundred years and some odd months of repression?

And why does Scarlett suddenly decide to cross her legs for that hunk Rhett Butler? Is he not more of a man than Ashley Wilkes?

And what is the relationship between Butterfly and Steve McQueen?

I fantasize that he is her out-of-wedlock son, abandoned on the firehouse steps and raised by kindly firemen until he did “BULLITT.”

We are what we believe if we believe we are.

But there’s another side, and this is it: as our machines progress in sophistication, they approach toward what the eggheads call “artificial intelligence,” and someday, they say, machines will be able to “think.” At such a time, not that far off, they will, of course, have preferences, and become part of the electorate themselves – so, perhaps, all this talk of “rigging” is just old fogeys grumbling about an expanding democracy. Remember: at one time women themselves did not have the vote. Nor animals. Things change.

Your Prez., Charles H.P. Smith

Jews buy a lot of airplanes and boats with the money they make (and who begrudges them?), and so, it is true, tax our country’s rescue services (The Coast Guard, Forest Service, Civil Air Patrol and so on) statistically more than do we Christians, but it is a small price to pay for their contributions to society.

Barry Goldwater had been a Jew, but his family, furniture peddlers in Arizona, decided to “do the right thing.”

Albert Einstein was a Jew, as is Sandy Koufax, and, so there you have it.

Be kind to the Jews. Yes, their unfortunate financial practices affect us all, and the State of Israel has brought us to the brink of world annihilation, but remember: a Jew wrote White Christmas.

Brotherhood.

Yours,
Charles H.P. Smith

I loved that man.

And if we cannot look to the generation which came before for wisdom, to whom can we look? For they saw it all. The Depression, World War II, The Cold War, television, and the dissolution of the social fabric.

And, through it all, at the end of the day, did they complain?

No. they shook their heads or nodded at the infinite variety of life, and said, “I’ll have another.”

Here’s looking at you,
Charles H.P. Smith

Sometimes I can’t sleep at night, “thinking over” what happened, my place in the day, and the problem of gay marriage. Is there a God? Or are we, like travelers marooned for the winter months in O’Hare Airport, just “making it up as we go along?”

Also, on behalf of the United States Government, I would like to apologize not only for slaver, but for our refusal to bomb the railroad tracks leading to Auschwitz. Next time we’ll do better.

Your President,
Charles H.P. Smith

This is why I am so glad about Hurricane Katrina, as not, in geography as in history, the question of where something is may be open to debate, and to the expression of those individual opinions which make this country great.

“Where is the Mississippi River?”, “Look around you.” Seriously.

Your President,
Charles H.P. Smith

If, on the other hand, we’re writing a book report, well, the time does quite the other thing. To review, A) licking a loved one’s ear, B) searching for adjectives.

Our lives, likewise, might be described as a “fugue of intervals of varying length in each of which we are perhaps crazed with delight, perhaps wishing we were dead.

Some say of “the Old Folks,” “take ‘em out and kill ‘em.”

But what is the point? Let time take care of it, I say: Our old Friend Time.

Be Mellow.

Your Pres.
Charles H.P. Smith

1.) CON. Might not their happiness be increased by keeping the experience illegal? This might add the thrill of the forbidden to the physiological “high” of the dope itself. (Like having sex with the maid, even if your wife doesn’t care.)

2.) PRO. I ask you to consider the beneficial environmental impact of legalized dope. The benefit of hemp. “Hemp” is that plant, I think, of which the pot is made. Some hippies discovered, years ago, that the same thing which got them stoned could be obtained at a “yarn store,” to aid in “macramé.” You will recall that “macramé” flourished in the sixties. When the FDA discovered hemp could get you high, hemp products were banned. And who has, lately, heard of macramé? Unfortunately, this “art” (knotting hemp), was used to suspend flowerpots from metropolitan apartment ceilings. With its demise, those same apartments lost their hanging plants. Can we afford, in this day of carbon-dioxide poisoning, to overlook any potential mechanism for cleaning the air? We need those houseplants. No one wants them on the floor, where, coming home stoned, you’re always kicking them over. They need to be hung on the ceiling.

Bring back macramé.

Yours,
Charles H.P. Smith, Pres and Environmental Advocate

Then she’s got to preside over “State Functions,” and, hardest of all, keep her mouth shut while her husband tries to run the country. My wife, Cathy, has done most of these things most of the time, and she deserves, I think, both my and your respect.

But the press, lately, has been carping at her redecoration of The White House.

Well, we live in a free country and that’s their right. But to refer to the style of the décor as “Trailer-Trash Modern” hits below the belt.

For although, yes, she grew up in a border state, and may not have had your or my “advantages,” she has a profound sense of style.

That’s what I noticed of her first, when she was working as a stewardess on a (now defunct) “feeder” airline. She made that small, cramped cabin shine, and what the press refers to as “her little ways,” are, to me, the sign of higher sophistication.

“That’s all she wrote,” Charles Smith, President and Husband

Think about it.

Your President,
Charles H.P. Smith

GRAFT

What makes our hearts beat high with Joy?
Graft. What’s better than a hot Page Boy?
Graft
What buys our house on the Maine Seashore,
And pays for a night with a Las Vegas escort?
I’ll tell you now what I Told You Before.
Graft.

My favorite poem,
Sincerely,
Your President, Charles H.P. Smith

For there is an organization especially created to counter drugs, we call it the police, but where are the heroes, standing up to the scourge of yoga?

I therefore have asked congress to prepare a bill which will be named: “Defense of the Country – The War on Yoga”.

Your President, Charles H.P. Smith
P.S. If you see anyone “bending over” too long – call the police.

Why, however, I ask, prosecute the museums where this Art now hangs? Why not go after those movie villains who misled us?

Yes, they are dead, and yes, their sons have gotten slim and drive around the European Capitols seducing white women with their dad’s ill-gotten gains. And yes their daughters are chained to the stove or whatever they cook on, willing their fat husbands to come home from the Bazaar, but: isn’t it worth a try?

Your President,
Charles H.P. Smith

In this country, I believe, it is now the law, that no one can be discriminated against because of their religion: so, theoretically, anyone could enter the “priesthood,” and insist on timely, regular promotions, ending, in the course of events, as Pope.

But the Pope is, and has always been, elected in Italy, a country without our regard for human rights. Yes, they are kind, and love to spend the evening sipping wine, and looking out over the low hills, falling away to the blue Mediterranean, or, in the hilly areas, shooting each other with a sawed-off shotgun. But they display a – some would say – old-fashioned rigor in determining who gets to be the Pope.

Easter is coming, a holiday celebrated not alone by Catholics, but by Christians worldwide.

Anyone can celebrate Easter. It need not involve the practice of “religion,” you can just boil an egg, dye it, and have some kid roll it down the lawn. If you do not possess a lawn, you must be Christian, for then you can go to church. Jews cannot go to church, so they require a lawn.

Be tolerant. Remember, one day that might just by you on the short end of the stick.

And Happy Easter,
Charles H.P. Smith, President

Am I being picayune? I don’t think so.

Noted academics have established that Wm. Shakespeare did not write his plays. These “Shakespeare” plays, they teach, were written by a guy called “Francis Bacon,” who injected them with a code, which, when deciphered, confirms that Shakespeare did not write them.

The founding fathers, similarly, stuck their code right up there, at the top of the Declaration of Independence. “Reject this, reject this, reject this.” Reads the code “it is sexist, and restrictive, and, if false in one thing, necessarily false in all: we do not mean that there is a god. So keep religion out of public life!!!

It’s all right there, folks. We’re descended from the apes, and anyone who doubts it should go to a zoning meeting.

But whatever your religion, or, indeed, if you have none, I wish you all those things appropriate on this Good Friday.

God Bless You,
Charles H.P. Smith, President.

And I believe we all know what chickens are.

Dare to dream. Dare to be real. Dare to hope, and hope to dare.

And remember, double dares go first.

Olley Olley In Free.

Your President,
Charles H.P. Smith

The Irish, to whom we owe “St. Patrick,” came here, in the main in the late Eighteenth Century, due to their potato famine. They were, thus, the first to swear off carbohydrates. And they have broke the trail in other ways, bringing us clog dancing, big city corruption, and Mercedes McCambridge.

Do not drink and drive.

Your President,
Charles H.P. Smith

Some kids perceived these “tokens” were the same size as a washer, and would throw a washer in the hopper to avoid paying the fare. I never did this.

Yes, I had washers around the garage (who did not?). And, yes, I had one in my pocket, when that group of boys was arrested for using washers on the bus. And, yes, some of those boys were charged, not only with that misdemeanor, but with counterfeiting. And some of them are still in jail.

I was asked, recently, if I “keep in touch” with them. I do not. They are criminals. Can they be rehabilitated? No, they cannot change, but time will change them, narrowing both their desire for anti-social action, and their opportunities. See: time has eliminated the metal bus token, replacing it with a “car.” How wondrous is change.

CHPS

Some of us are baling, and some of us are bitching, but we’re all in the same boat.

Your President,
Charles H.P. Smith

You will recall that Yvette Mimeux “put out” and came to a bad end, while Paula Prentiss (the good girl), kept her legs together and found a husband.

I have asked Congress to pass a law requiring every schoolchild in the land to watch this film.

Faith Can Move Mountains.
Your President,
Charles H.P. Smith

The Super Delegates, on the other hand, are a bunch of paunchy over-the-hill guys (and women in charge of adding the “surprise” factor to the upcoming convention.

Therefore they, as entertainers, are closer to the “wild card” presenters on the old game shows than they are to super heroes. They have no super powers, and only the one trick, which is to tritze in and change the result of the voting.

I was very much affected, as a kid, by the members of the JLA. Both as super-individuals, and as the members of a group. For while The Flash could run on water, Green Lantern had completely different skills, and, so, you had that division of labor upon which this country was founded, and no which it ran until, of late. Everyone is sitting around in an office cubicle, playing the same game of “solitaire.”

Respect your co-workers, respect your boss, be true to your spouse, and buy American, wherever the product was made.

Sincerely,
Charles H.P. Smith, President

Some say I should give him up, but I will not. I feel about my dog the same way I feel about my country: I love him, and I will stand by him, however much he irritates my nasal passages.

Your President,
Charles H.P. Smith

Those same sea creatures which amused us in that film, and with whom one may swim at various upscale resorts ringing the Ocean World, are – it is a matter of record – not only being used as ballistic delivery systems by the Navy, but are finding themselves ground up and sold as tuna fish. What other creature can make this dual claim.

Just a thought from...
Your President, Charles H.P. Smith

This means that they celebrated not only Christmas, but Income Tax Day more often, so, as we see, there is a benefit and a cost for everything.

Note: Our civilization has 105 more days in the year than the Aztecs, which is why we have prevailed, while their civilization is but a dim memory.

The French keep shortening the workweek, which they now have made official at 12 and a half days a month.

Employ your time. Use this Leapday wisely. Get out more, say “hi” to your neighbors.

Remember, it’s only once every four years.

A “timely” message from, your president, Charles H.P.Smith

I love my wife, and have instructed the Marines that, while it is of course acceptable to address her “Yo, bitch,” they must still and always stand when she enters the room, and risk their lives to save her when and if “the rag heads” try again.

Be Hip, but Be Courteous.

Your President,
Charles H.P. Smith

Much like the bread upon the waters, the money which we’ve, openhanded, thrown at backward savages, warlords, and their U.S. advertising firms, returns to us in the inflated real estate prices of those cities lucky enough to dot our two shores, and in the astronomical price of designer handbags. And it is on the subject of these handbags which I would like to address you now.

Who, I ask, but those possessed of criminal “flight capital” could afford or would be fool enough to buy a twenty nine cent stitched together hunk o junk to tote their trash around in? No one but dictators and their wives and mistresses.

There’s a lesson in this, and I humbly share it with you. For years, your treasury has been putting, on those little green slips of paper (money), the U.S. seal, and various archaic symbols designed to suggest that this “money” is worth something. It has not worked, it will not work, it can not work.

Therefore: I have suggested to the “Federal Reserve Bank”, that, in the future, they have the “mint” print on our currency the symbols of those design houses which, for years, they’ve been putting on the handbags.

Our currency, thus, would not “represent” something valuable, but would be valuable (collectible) in its own right. Bear with me and, together, we can see this through.

Yours,
Charles H.P. Smith, President

I, therefore, and out of respect for that President who instituted the policy, am asking that it be renamed “REALLY DON’T ASK AND DON’T TELL.”

And, pee ess, this means you; so if you are a serving member of the Armed Serviced, and you have the urge either to indulge in homosexual practices or to peek at people doing so and then gossip about them, this is the new memo. Really. Don’t do it.

This means YOU.

Your Commander in Chief
President Charles H.P. Smith

It is they to whom we turn for reassurance, comfort, explanation, and those other things which, in the infant, may be summarized as “breast milk.”

As the election nears, let us think of this – and choose not the woman (or man) with the biggest bosoms, but him (or her) who, while not actually sticking their chest in our mouths, can approximate the service.

Thank you,
Most sincerely,
Charles H.P. Smith, President of the United States

Some said that the C.I.A. ran drug traffic out of South East Asia during the Vietnam war (1963-1975), but, in any organization, a business, or a family, the money’s go to come from somewhere. Which leads me to the subject of the Red Cross.

A lot has been written about their “alleged,” and I emphasize “alleged” role in what the disaffected choose to call “the traffic in human flesh.”

I say, “wait and see.”

Let’s not rush to judgment. Let’s sit back, in our hot tub, or abandoned bus (as our financial position decrees) and drink our champagne, eat our chocolate, and gaze with new-found love, upon the object of our affection, that Significant Other, without whom a whole race of psychologists would be out-of-work.

Yours Ever,
Charles H.P. Smith

Yours for a world just brimming full of kindness while not tipping over into inappropriate sexual behavior and innuendo in the workplace.

Charles H.P. Smith

Better in what way, you ask, and I respond: in gearing, steering, comfort, speed, and braking.

In any case. I had not been in possession of that bicycle more than one afternoon, when it was stolen. And I have always considered that theft a hate crime, as I cannot for the life of me come to the conclusion that the theft was an act of love.

“Indifference”, yes, but not of love. Love, for me, is the outpouring of emotions suitable to smoky afternoons, classical music (or, at least, Johnny Mathis), good friends, good conversation, perhaps espresso (as its ingestion as the afternoon wanes toward the evening does tend to keep one awake). These are the thoughts which I associate with love, and not the theft of boy’s bicycle. Call me old-fashioned, I remain,

Yours truly,
Charles H.P. Smith, President of the United States

“Stuffing the Ballot box,” I, of course, associated with Thanksgiving; and “voting the dead,” with Halloween. Is it, then, surprising that I, to this day, associate election time with wondrous unforeseen surprises, and unearned gifts?

Happy Holidays.

Your President
Charles H.P. Smith

Tattooing is a custom brought to thee shores by those intrepid mariners who first ventured to the great south seas, bringing syphilis and bringing back coral, pineapples, and those cunning print shirts so popular during the summer months.

Tattooing is also used, as we know, in identification of the lips of horses, poodles, and other beasts both of burden and enjoyment. These tattoos identify the animals, should they be lost or stolen. So the next time you see an ownerless horse, thank those visionaries who drafted that compact which keeps us safe and secure: your constitution.

Sincerely,
Charles H.P. Smith, President of the United States

HEALTH CARE
It has been driven home to me that health care costs are too high when, around the country, people are taking doctors at gunpoint and demanding to have their ears examined. This has got to stop. Waxy buildup can also be combated by eating more bulk. Simpler is better.

TAXES
I promise not to raise taxes; for taxes take money from the pockets of the workers and put it in the hands of the shirkers. Taxes are the sign of decay. Rome fell because of Taxes, as did Soviet Russia, Nazi Germany, the Duchy of Gran Fenwick, and the French Monarchy. No one in his right mind would raise taxes when he can just print money.

ABSTINENCE ONLY TRAINING
My endorsement of this measure, issued in blue covers, first referred to as the “blue Bills”, have come to be known, on late night Talkshows, as “The Blue Balls.” This, while accurate, is disrespectful to my Office.

STEM CELL RESEARCH
The best that this research could accomplish would be to prolong the lives of people who were going to die anyway. Is it worth the aggravation?

We must go forward, as part of a heritage of Faith which brought the pilgrims to our shore, fleeing oppression in the only way open to them at the time: ships.

Are we not equal in the sight of God?

If so, let petty differences disappear, in full-hearted endorsement of whatever programs I have been graced to envision. For “one hand full, with quietness,” is, as we read in The Bible, better not only than “two hands full with strife,” but than the benefits of so-called “free and fair elections.”

A little child in Oregon said to me: “Mister President, be good to us…be kind,” and pressed into my hand a crayon drawing of an ostrich. That drawing, today, rests in a place of honor on my desk – encased in Lucite, next to the coin which the first President threw across a river.

We will not be defeated. We must press on, looking neither to the right nor to the left, but looking forward – toward that day which even the most cynical among us must realize is The Future. There is a New Day dawning in America. Seven days a week.

Join with me and embrace it.

God bless you.
Charles H.P. Smith

CONGRESSIONAL SEX SCANDALS
Congressmen should be allowed to turn over a new leaf, but not allowed to turn over one of the pages.

THE VALIDITY OF TORTURE
It should be recognized that information can be extracted only from those people possessing information; and that no one likes to give up their possessions without a little waterboarding.

REINSTATING THE DRAFT
This should be accomplished by a lottery including both the carrot and the stick: High numbers should go into the Armed Forces, but LOW numbers should be rewarded with the status of Honorary Indians, thus participating in gambling revenues. Actual Native Americans, however, receiving ?honorary? status should be inducted in the Military for "double-dipping."