A Letter To Mike Huckabee

(It’s official. Mike Huckabee’s campaign is down and out. I enjoyed watching him continually pray for more votes. And through it all, and in spite of his supporters and proposed policies, his positive aura and friendly demeanor shined through. I can’t help but like this guy. So I wanted to send him a nice-ish letter to let him know that I think he’s an amiable American gentleman. And I don’t dole out that type of praise willy-nilly.)

"Howdy Huck,

Sorry to hear you had to bow out of the race.

I won’t claim to be surprised by this inevitable result - I sure as shit knew you’d exit the primary sooner rather than later. After all, you couldn’t have won the Republican nomination even if McCain had vehemently denounced Jesus, Ronald Reagan, and Strom Thurmond in the same breath – as part of his closing remarks during every single debate and campaign rally.

Be honest with yourself, Huck, just as you’ve been honest with your supporters - and with Jesus, who apparently didn’t support you quite enough to make a difference this time around.

And remember, you’re a very likeable fella, a super churchy guy, and a patriotic American.

I must admit, Huck, that in all seriousness, you seem like a very nice guy.

Let’s go grab a beer and shoot some pool. Or how about beers and bowling? BBQ? Shoot off some fireworks down at the reservoir? I’d be up for just about anything.

Not to rub it in, but the White House would have been the perfect place for us to meet for a frosty brew and a game of darts. Bill Clinton had several night clubs and cabarets installed throughout the Presidential Complex during his 8 years in office - some above ground and open to the atmosphere, and others below ground in nuclear-hardened concrete bunkers with 20 ft. thick walls and their own renewable oxygen supply.

As you may have guessed, the best parties were thrown in these secure, underground lairs - featuring off-the-hook hip-hop, dance and trance, reggae-core, and techno beats, spun by none other than DJ Magic Mike, DJ Shadow, and DJ Senator Tom Daschle.

But enough about the White House’s amazing party facilities.

You’re still a pleasantly charming and prepossessing fine Southern gentleman.

And on top of all that, you have one of the greatest weight loss stories to tell, out of all of this year’s Presidential candidates. Just to put things in perspective, you’ve lost more pounds over the last 5 years than all the other candidates’ shoe sizes combined.

To look at it another way, you’ve dropped far more weight during that span (in kilograms) than the surface area of John McCain’s cheeks, Hillary Clinton’s ankles, and Barack Obama’s teeth combined (in square miles).

Finally, if you really want to view your weight loss through a non-distorting lens, consider that you’ve annihilated more flab over the last half-decade (in troy ounces) than the Straight Talk Express has paid tolls (in dollar coins) during the trip from Newark to Atlantic City, on the Garden State Parkway – there’s like a million toll booths on that damn road.

Huck, not enough regular folks know about your struggle against pie. Your battle with burritos. Your fight for freedom from French fries.

It’s a song that needs to be sung on high. From every purple mountain and across every green pasture.

Sing its praises from the hilltops and from the steeple.

The barnyard and the backyard.

The Physics Research Lab, but not the Stem Cell Research Lab.

The time has come for the people to know:

HUCK, YOU LOST OVER 120 POUNDS!!!




Good work, my friend - and that’s no joke.


Warmest of all possible human regards,

- The Mill"