From: The Seriously Honorable Hillary Rodham Clinton
To: The Morons on my Campaign Staff
Subject: Selma and Beyond
Iâ€™ve absolutely had it with you incompetent boobs!
Surely youâ€™ve seen the news, you’ve heard those fascist bastards on the radio, and youâ€™ve read those wing-nut bloggers all having a field day playing cuts from my speech in Selma. Oh yeah, they were having a pisser making fun of my Southern and black accents. I want you butt noses to know that it is all your goddamned fault.
At the outset, let me say that if I find out which one of you dumbshits retained that woman to teach me to talk black, Iâ€™ll fire your ass in a heartbeat. After hours of lessons the bitch told me that I sounded just like Wanda Sykes, and you bastards all nodded with approval. So, I went to Selma and did my best black schtick and I sounded like an asshole. Meanwhile Obama, was down the street talking black and kicking my ass. I want you to find out who taught Obama to talk black and pay him five times whatever Obama paid him.
I relied on you morons to do the advance work, and look what the hell happened! Apparently, I have do all the thinking around here. Therefore, so I donâ€™t get blindsided on my next trip to the South, I want to see the following things accomplished, like, YESTERDAY:
1. Clothing: How do you expect me to relate to these southern knuckle walkers dressed in a goddamned New York City goddamned pants suit. I want to arrange for the purchase of several outfits of the type worn by this woman. This is a sure winner, but I sure as shit canâ€™t depend on you Vassar and Radcliff dolts to see the obvious.
2. Recipes: A shitload of women wanted to talk to me about goddamned recipes! Jesus Christ! I havenâ€™t cooked any goddamned thing since, well, never. Get me some goddamned recipes for stuff like squirrels, ham hocks, possum, black eyed peas and collards. Oh, and I need someone to tell me what the hell sweet tea and blush puppies are.
3. Catchy Phrases: I also want you sorry asses to put together a list of really quaint southern sayings for me to work in my conversations with these Neanderthals. You know, shit like, â€œDamn, itâ€™s colderâ€™n a well diggerâ€™s asshole.â€ and â€œWell, strip my gears and call me shiftless.â€
I donâ€™t want to hear any bullshit from any of you about these demands. Put down your goddamned Blackberries and get busy.
Oh, I almost forgot. I will be speaking in Chicago in a few weeks. Get that Zbignew Brrzezinski guy to call me. (Yeah, geniuses, heâ€™s the guy who worked for Carter.) I want him to teach me how to talk with a Polish accent and tell me all about kielbasa and shit.