As an important political figure, I am often approached by normal, everyday people such as yourself to speak on current issues. Although they often ask questions about my policies, especially the one about protecting our national highways by covering them in Teflon, now and again I get a question of a more personal nature. Sometimes it’s about my intelligence, sometimes my charisma, sometimes just the secret to my success.
I remember once, for example, a darling little girl came up to me during one of my campaigns. She looked at me with her bright, young eyes, and I could see that she was an enquiring mind, a model Voter of Tomorrow.
“Mr. Weasel?” she asked. “What is the secret of your success?”
“Security,” I said. Within seconds, she was escorted to a large, unmarked van and was never seen or heard from again. That’s the kind of success we’re talking about here.
From this, I deduced that clearly the public wants to know more about its candidates – not just politically, but personally as well. That’s why I opened this page: So that everyday folk could ask me whatever questions popped into their heads, and I could answer them openly and transparently like the honest candidate I am. Unfortunately, it turns out that everyday folk have the IQ of clam chowder. That’s why I decided to ignore them for six years.
Well, no more! My mailbox is stuffed full of enquiring drivel from folks just like you! And between that and my loyal guard badger, Brutus, the local postal worker’s union has started to lay down some serious legal complaints, so I might as well take advantage of the postal system while I still can. Therefore, I intend to answer a number of very interesting questions in full, as suggested by my adoring public as well as several members of the Grand Rapids Police Department.
Ewan Hoskins of Tacoma, Washington writes:
What do you think makes an ideal candidate?
Well, among other things, not having a name like “Ewan Hoskins”. When it comes to selecting a President, the People want a name that simply rolls off the tongue, such as Jimmy Carter, or Barack Obama, or Shaquille O’Neal. They also want somebody with integrity, somebody trustworthy, and you don’t find those qualities in people named “Dewey”.
The ideal candidate should also be tall, as tall people are easily mistaken for giants, and people will often support them for fear that they will eat their children. If a candidate isn’t tall, he should try to conceal this through any means possible. Though naturally difficult, this sometimes works. Historians now believe, for example, that Abraham Lincoln was just a circus midget in a really big hat.
Michael Carter of Kansas City, Missouri, writes:
I’m a 65-year-old retiree who has been hit hard by the economic recession.
Kim Everett of Niagara Falls, New York, writes:
I’m a 23-year-old fashion model who has considered branching out into swimsuits.
Disappointingly for women everywhere, you are actually the second-most attractive candidate who has run for President this year. What sort of products do you use to stay so sexy?
Well, Kim, you’ll be pleased to know that my sexiness is based on nothing more than natural charisma and a unique secretion of musk that has been shown to cause tumours in lab rats. I do not use any sort of beauty or hygiene product, as I want the people I meet with to face the full Weasel Experience. Every time someone near me asks, “What’s that smell?”, I know I have made an impression.
I do, of course, think that it is important to look your best at all times, as evidenced by the many inspiring stories we see on TV involving people solving deep personal problems by purchasing name-brand products. Take, for example, the woman who appears in those Crest whitening ads.
She is faced with a problem: She has a wedding to attend in two weeks, but her smile just isn’t white enough! Despite the fact that she has teeth which are nice and bright and free of cavities, they are nevertheless not up to her standards. She becomes very depressed, and starts missing work, and turns to a life of crime, and one morning she wakes up in a filthy back alley covered in syringes and unfamiliar tattoos.
At this point she staggers past a pharmacy, and, like a sign from God, she finds special Crest whitening toothpaste. Within two weeks, she is back at work and ecstatically happy, because her smile is radiant enough to permanently blind her co-workers. When she goes to the wedding, she is the very quintessence of mirth, although the happy couple are less than impressed when she accidentally opens her mouth and flags down a passing aircraft.
That is the sort of inspiring story that we need to hear more of in this country.
Internal Revenue Service from Washington, D.C. writes:
Dear Mr. Weasel,
In going over your records, it has become apparent that your most recent tax return contains a number of factual errors. You cannot claim marital benefits, as our records suggest you are not married, and also your given name is not “His Holiness”. Concern was sewn in particular by the part where you just drew a big zero on the form and wrote “I have a Swiss bank account, so bite me, suckers.”
Some members of the IRS were worried that this may constitute tax evasion. “No!” we said, in unison. “Not Mr. Weasel! Surely he could never have done such a wicked thing!” This made us very upset, and we had to go lie down for a while.
We here at the IRS are well aware of how much you value your assets, and we think it would be a shame if something were to happen to them. Deep in our hearts, we know that you would never intentionally deprive the government of its well-deserved money, and we look forward to discussing this matter with you very, very soon. If nothing else, we would like to show off the box we got to keep you in. Right now it’s a little stuffy, but I’m sure we’ll remember to put in the air holes.
Well, Internal, I’m the sort of candidate who likes to break the rules, think outside the box, push the boundaries, and employ an entourage of high-priced attorneys to crush opposition like a gooey hornet in a book which I took back to the library anyway. That’s just how much of an independent thinker I am. In fact, for those of you who are looking to get into politics, I strongly recommend hiring a top-notch legal team to take care of just these sorts of problems. My team, led by Dave Trammis, My Internet Lawyer, have beaten every prosecutor they’ve come across, and some are still in intensive care. That’s the awesome power of lawying.
Bank of America from America writes:
Dear valued customer,
Congratulations! You have been pre-approved for a new Bank of America ScumCard! This revolutionary new card combines the ease of instant payment with the convenience of owing us a lot of money. With a low, low interest rate of 1.6%, give or take 25%, and a credit limit of (to quote Board member Leslie “Trust Me” Phillips) “a bajillion dollars”, you can shop with confidence, knowing that your purchases will only come back to haunt you several months down the road.
With its distinctive design set upon tasteful shades of puce, your ScumCard will feel right at home in your wallet, just between the loyalty card for that defunct video place and the stock photo of children more attractive than yours.
Additionally, on each transaction, you will earn ScumPoints, which are little numbers you will accumulate in the desperate hope that they will one day add up to something. ScumPoints can be redeemed for an enormous range of prizes, including movie tickets, cars, clocks, romantic vacations and gift cards, although you know damn well they won’t.
To activate your ScumCard, first remove it from the space below and write somebody’s name on it. Then simply call our toll-free number and listen to “Born in the U.S.A.” over and over and over again until you start to understand why people commit crimes.
Well, Bank, I don’t think that a credit card will be necessary, as my money management skills are top-rate. You see, in a typical campaign, a candidate would travel to a state such as Idaho in a fleet of buses the length of the Washington Monument, which would ferry him around from location to location, using tons of fuel and emitting enough carbon dioxide to melt a polar bear at fifty paces. He would then meet with a large crowd of rural Idahoans to speak to the voters and hear their concerns and ask for directions on how to get the hell out of Idaho. In the meantime, various damning commercials would appear on television, accusing his opponents of flip-flopping, money laundering, kidnapping, drug smuggling, involvement in the Kennedy assassination, etc. The grand total for all of the 2012 Republican contenders, for instance, is a number with so many digits that mathematicians refer to it simply as “2.6 Megatrumps”.
When you look at candidates like these, you can’t help but wonder how they expect to solve the country’s incredibly massive debt crisis given all the money they’re spending promoting themselves. Clearly, what this country needs is someone who’s a bit more honest and respectable when it comes to finances. That’s where I come in. I know how to run a bare-bones campaign. Just look at all the ways I know to save a buck:
|Campaign bus propelled by…||An enormous, thirsty engine fuelled by caviar and ground-up 18th-century art||The poor|
|Campaign travels to…||Unnecessary meetings in rural states that merely make the candidates wonder why all the other politicians seem to think that pig farmers’ votes are so damn important
||The general area around his house|
|Expert political strategy provided by…||A specialist team comprised of people who had worked on their party’s last campaign, which in turn consisted of people who had worked on their party’s second-last campaign, and so on. One day, these people wandered into their party headquarters looking for the post office or something, and were mistaken for a member of the campaign team and accidentally drafted in. By now they have lasted so long that they have climbed the ladder and are seen as people of great seniority and experience, and are given positions of tactical importance despite being barely qualified to operate a toaster.||
Consuming the volumes of alcohol necessary to cause one to have great insights about the world
|Condemnation of the opposition achieved by…||Running a massive, multi-million-dollar ad campaign highlighting random scary-looking words in red||Vandalising their car|
CONCERNED LOVER from Cincinnati, Ohio writes:
My fiancée, “Walter”, and I have been engaged for two months. Lately, though, I feel as though he has been pulling away from me. Back in the early days of our relationship, he would call me to tell me he loves me, or write me little songs about how beautiful I am, or even just blow me a kiss on his way to work. Now, though, we rarely see each other, and he never calls me anymore, and last week he moved without telling me. It took me enormous effort to track him down, but he doesn’t even appreciate this. He also doesn’t blow me kisses anymore, although that is probably because he hasn’t yet noticed me crouching in the shrubbery.
I’ve tried to have a discussion about this, but he just claims that we broke up several weeks ago and asks me to leave him alone. In actual fact, the word “we” is not correct here; while he did think that we should see other people, I didn’t agree, so I feel that he should really be more considerate towards me if this relationship is ever going to last.
I feel as if I have tried everything! I barely even see him at home anymore, since he started closing his curtains at night. What should I do?
Well, Concerned, you sure are one crazy bitch.
Mr. Johnson Mabib from Lagos, Nigeria writes:
IT HAS COME TO OUR ATTENTIONS WITH MUCH SADNESS THAT MR. KITKAT N’BUNGA, A PROMINENT BUSINESSMAN HERE IN LAGOS, HAS DIED LEAVING OVER $33 MILLION AMERICAN DOLLARS U.S.D. TO HIS NEPHEW. HOWEVER, IT IS WITH GREAT TRAGEDY THAT HIS NEPHEW WAS ALSO THEN KILLED, ANOTHER VICTIM OF THE TRAGICALLY HIGH NIGERIAN MILLIONAIRE DEATH RATE. THEY ARE “DROPPING LIKE FLIES,” AS I THINK YOU AMERICANS SAY, ALTHOUGH I WOULD NOT KNOW ABOUT THAT BECAUSE HERE IN AFRICA WE HAVE THE KIND OF FLIES THAT CAN ONLY BE SUBDUED WITH GUNFIRE.
IT IS WITH GREAT MISFORTUNES THAT THIS MONEY CANNOT GO TO ITS PROPER RECIPIENT, AND SO I WILL OFFER IT TO YOU, AS PART OF THE CONDITION IN MR. N’BUNGA’S WILL WHICH STATES THAT SHOULD HIS NEPHEW FOR WHATEVER REASON NOT ACCEPT HIS INHERITANCE, THIS MONEY MUST BE OFFERED TO AMERICANS SELECTED AT RANDOM FOR NO PARTICULAR REASON. HOWEVER, FOR SECURITY REASONS I MUST ASK FOR SOME VERY BASIC INFORMATION ABOUT YOU, SO THAT WE CAN BE BOTH IN THE KNOWLEDGE THAT WE WILL NOT BE VICTIMS OF A SCAM. SUCH ACTIVITIES ARE REPREHENSIBLE THINGS PERPETUATED BY HUCKSTERS AND FLUKES AND WE KNOW YOU ARE TOO INTELLIGENT TO FALL VICTIM TO ONE. SO, IF YOU ARE READY TO RECEIVE YOUR FREE MONEY, PLEASE COMPLETE THESE FORMS FOR IDENTIFICATION PURPOSES:
BANK ACCOUNT NO. .........................................................
BANK ACCOUNT PIN.........................................................
MOTHER’S MAIDEN NAME.........................................................
SOCIAL SECURITY NO. .........................................................
CREDIT CARD NUMBER.........................................................
CREDIT CARD EXPIRATION.........................................................
BOXERS OR BRIEFS? .........................................................
Well, Mister, I’m glad you’ve mentioned this topic, because it’s one that’s close to my heart. You see, while the world likes to whine about the more “mainstream” African problems like AIDS and starvation and primitive tribes killing each other nonstop, very few draw attention to the important, yet forgotten problems of that troubled land, such as South Africans talking funny. One such problem is the tragic loss of some of Africa’s finest millionaires, all of whom, by this point, have the life expectancy of a gerbil in a blender.
We’ve all heard the tragic tales of these pioneering capitalists, cut down in the prime of life by disease, heart failure, car accidents, boat explosions, bullfighting mishaps, etc. And every time one of them dies, the money goes to a relative or attorney, who (wary of the bony hand of death looming just above their head) desperately pleads with foreigners to just get the money the hell away from them.
It should be enormously clear to everybody by now that Nigerian money has been cursed by witch doctors, who are these funny little people often seen jumping around with bones sticking out of their heads in 1950s cartoons. Witch doctors love to cause trouble, and will often run around their villages casting “hexes” on people just to annoy them. They are, then, the slightly saner African equivalent of street musicians.
Removing a curse from an entire currency is hard work, which is why I’m pleased to announce my plans for a new charity dedicated specifically to this problem. It will operate in virtually the same way as all other charities:
It’ll be hard work, people, but I think we can truly make a difference. We can end this curse, and get those millionaires back on their feet. And, if we don’t, who cares? They’re just Nigerians, for God’s sake.
Well, those are all the letters I can be bothered to answer, folks. I’d like to thank everybody who sent them in, especially Kim Everett from Niagara Falls, who attached a picture of her gigantic hooters. For various reasons, her letter caught my eye above all others, so I came up with the idea of using her picture in my next nationwide campaign flyer. I’m sure she won’t mind.