Greg A. Bruns
Phoenix, AZ 85018
The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW
Washington, DC 20500
Dear Mr. 43rd President:
Congratulations on your new job! What a promotion, huh? All the way up
to Commander In Chief - wow! You must have what the old-schoolers
call "moxie." Or is that money that you need to become
president? I get those two confused sometimes since I seem to lack an
abundance of either one.
When I put myself in your shoes, I feel sort of unimportant. I mean,
my biggest concern heading into tomorrow is this dime-sized pimple I have
festering on my forehead. You, on the other hand, have to worry about
more than 200 other nations and territories, innumerable warring factions,
300 million of your own citizens, plus 5.7 billion other planetary residents,
global economic status, peace in the terminally tumultuous Middle East,
thousands of Social programs and problems, not to mention redecorating
your new home, although I'm sure Mrs. President will help out with that.
I know you're going to have your hands full over the next several days
with all of the "settling in" stuff that we all go
through when we move from mediocrity to supremacy. I hope you can take
a moment from appointing Cabinet members, Supreme Court justices, and
instructing White House cooks on your dietary preferences to read a few
words of advice from one puny citizen of the greatest country in the world,
which you now govern.
First of all, you're not going to make everyone happy and you shouldn't
be afraid to tell people that every time you make a decision. Go down
in history with the presidential slogan "I can't please everybody."
When citizens express their disapproval, do nothing but nod, smile, and
say, "I can't please everybody." You don't have to be one of
those "I can" guys because quite honestly, they're overrated
anyway.
Previous presidents have enjoyed unusual pets in the White House, from
Calvin Coolidge (a bobcat) to John Quincy Adams (an alligator). Pets are
a popular item for the chief execs, since you want to appear to be an
ordinary man. Most presidents have dogs, but I would suggest harboring
at least a hundred animals in order to take the spotlight off of you and
your family. Start with a well-rounded collection of pygmy goats, ostriches,
llamas, howler monkeys, sea lions, hyenas, parrots, camels, wolverines,
badgers, bears, aardvarks, and giraffes. 100 shrieking, roaring animals
means 100 engrossed reporters and photographers. Keep those folks at bay,
sir. Half way through your term, release the official names of all of
the animals. This will buy you a lot of time as publications nationwide
attempt to profile the "First Pets."
When sports figures visit the White House (World Series victors, Super
Bowl champs, etc.) you need to understand that these people are merely
entertainers. They may be fascinating athletes and swell guys
and all, but they're also just people, so don't get all mushy and stuff.
You, sir, are the most powerful man in the world. I would recommend that
you remind everyone of this fact on a daily basis. It can be done quite
simply with a bumper sticker or a lapel pin that reads "I Am the
Human Equal to God."
It may be the superhero equivalent of ingesting raw kryptonite, but I
think you should have a roller coaster built that spans the Atlantic from
Maine to London. 2929 miles of loops, corkscrews, dips, plunges, climbs
and flat-out rocket-assisted blasts at 500 mph. C'mon - the French and
the Japanese have been dueling for years for the fastest train, so why
don't we one-up them and put together the fastest roller coaster which
doubles as intercontinental transportation? I bet JFK would say YES to
this idea. Reagan had Star Wars; you can have AmeriCoaster!
I have many more suggestions, of course. I'd be happy to provide these
noble nuggets of knowledge, but only if you're willing to bring in the
animals, chief. Because you can't please everybody, and you can't please
me unless I work in an environment that is dominated by absolute
chaos and perfect power. |
