While Bo, President Obama’s dog, (the purebred Portuguese Water Dog, a gift from the late Senator Ted Kennedy, despite Obama’s pre-oath-of-office promise to save a dog from a pet shelter, but it sounded good), was digging and scampering in the East Lawn of the White House, he came upon the following “buried” treasure – letters between President Obama and the late European general and war-monger, Napoleon Bonaparte. What follows is just part of the recently- discovered historical, hysterical documents…
First, I hope you don’t mind if I call you “Barry,” when your full Christian name is “Barack.” Wait… My bad. I may be dead and resting in my fantabulous tomb at Les Invalides in Paris, but I’m kinda thinking “Barack” isn’t a “Christian” name. I know it’s not a Jewish name. Not saying you don’t like Jews. Not even saying you aren’t a fan of the current state of Israel. You think you are, I am sure, but that’s like me saying I’m a fan of Lean Cuisine Swedish meatballs. I know, I know – you’re close to those Emanuel brothers from Israel – Rahm, Ezekiel and Ari. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but they’ve done for Israel what you’ve done for the state of Israel. Think about that for a good long time. I’m not going anywhere.
Write back if you want any tips on how you can successfully go from POTUS to “Emperor,”
Fondly but manly yours,
P.S. The whole Cuba thing? Brilliant. Now you get great cigars and can have your own Caribbean island. By the way, those ’61 Studebakers the citizens of Cuba are driving around in – those aren’t classic cars. In fact, they’re barely cars. Stick with Fidel and Raul – they have the Benzes. Fore!
May I say that — as President of the United States – did I mention that I am President of the United States? — I am President of the United States, and don’t you forget that, John McCain and that other Mormon guy, – I am – well, “honored” might be inferred by you as a powerful man showing admiration for a greater powerful man. That is something I am not prepared to do. In fact, give me a sec – must sign Executive Order about that before Congress finds out.
So, cool hearing from you, Mr. Napoleon. Not as cool as rappin’ with Jay Z or having Vogue’s Anna Wintour bow before me, but as almost as cool as playing the back nine at the Farm Neck Golf Course on the Vineyard, an Hoyo de Monterrey Double Corona cigar, Sea Breeze on the rocks and Nancy Pelosi waiting for me at the nineteenth hole. And definitely cooler than listening to my pal Bill Ayers recount, over and over again – zzzzzzzzzzz– how his fellow SDS Weatherman girlfriend was killed while blowing up a Greenwich Village townhouse in the 1970s.
And then come the stories of how he took part in the bombings of New York Police Department headquarters in 1970, the United States Capitol Building in 1971 and the Pentagon in 1972. Jeez, Bonaparte, don’t you hate it when your friends just brag and brag and brag? “Plastique, blah, blah blah” and “fuses blah blah blah and detonator yadayadayada…”
Bonaparte, we have a lot in common. We’re both strategists. How I was able to get so many American Jews to vote for me not once, but twice, can only be attributed to my killer-strategery. Who knows? Maybe Rahm Emmanuel put a little peel-on/peel-off sticker that said “Rabinowitz” or “Goldenblatt” over my name on those very reliable new voting computer sheets.
Despite the fact that you’re short and I’m tall, and you’re dead and I’m not, I feel you. We’re both powerful men, visionaries who never let anything like public opinion or the law or even ethics, get in our way. So, what have I done to deserve the honor of hearing from you? I mean, other than the fact that I am the President of the United States. Encore une fois, Je suis le president.
Barack Hussein Obama
POTUS or le POTUS a vous
My Dearest Barack,
To be honest, I can’t believe I got you off the links long enough to reply to my royal correspondence. Though never much of a duffer. I did enjoy a good game of chess but seldom found the time for such dalliances as “hobbies,” as most of my time was taken up invading and controlling other countries. The fact that I was quite the Eurocentric fellow, I am rather surprised that you even responded. You don’t seem to like people of European, Ashkenazi or Sephardic descent. But trust me, had youthe chance, getting to boss around and control Spain – (free-tapas-for-life)!, the Netherlands, Switzerland, West Germany and Eastern Poland, I think you’d have enjoyed it. Or, perhaps you’d have insisted that I return Europe to its pre-67 borders? Hmmmmmm….
I don’t want to upset you, for you are a great leader. Well, perhaps I exaggerate a bit. I did see the results of the mid-term elections a few weeks ago. Looks like the “United States” isn’t so united. But as long as you think they are, too bad for them – oui?
Au revoir for now,
Yours truly, sincerely and respectfully
Listen here, Napoleon!
How dare you question any decisions I have made as the President of the United States? First, I’ll have you know, I am a staunch supporter of the increasingly- shrinking State of Israel. First, I love hummus. Not a fan of the “Sabra” brand, but you understand… Next, I love hummus. And finally I am a sucker for hummus.
Salaa— I mean, Shalom,
A question — don’t you have a press secretary or intern or someone toproofread your correspondence? There are only 2 “r”s in “Barry.” There was a “Barry” on “The Brady Bunch.” And there was Barry White. But your name is “Barack.” Next, saying the fact that you like hummus means you are a friend of Israel is like saying…no… I won’t even waste my time thinking of a really witty simile. Also, I am pretty sure you are confusing hummus, the delicious mixture of ground chick peas, tahini and other sumptuous ingredients, with Hamas. I used to get confused sometimes, especially while at war, between “cassoulet,” a hearty French stew, and cabernet, a hearty red wine. But, to my knowledge you have not suffered from battle fatigue. While both of us spent our entire careers avoiding working for private industry, at least I fought for my country. Perhaps you can claim hand-cramp as some sort of fatigue, though I think it’s a sort of adult temper tantrum.
I sense that you are not a happy leader of your people. It seems that you might, to use the name of a Jean Renoir classic film, be under L’Grande Illusion,” in that you believe many more of your people than is accurate, embrace your presidency. May I put it like this, Barry – you are probably lucky they don’t exile anyone to Elba or St. Helena anymore. St. Barts wouldn’t be so bad. Ooooops – no golf courses on St. Bart’s. My bad.
Mr. Napoleon, Sir,
Perhaps the formaldehyde has gotten to your head. To think that all I think about is the game of golf is ridiculous. I spend so much of my time thinking about The Affordable Care Act and how glad I am that Michelle and the girls and I don’t have to rely on that because otherwise we’d be in deep s*it. I mean, I’m the President of the United States. I like my doctors. And I can keep them. Period.
I spend more time than I’d like to thinking about everything going on in the Middle East and what I can do to not do very much of anything. To that end, I chose John Kerry, (yes, that John Kerry, married to Theresa Heinz, whose first husband’s family is responsible for what you would probably call an appalling condiment), as Secretary of State. We have some very nutty titles here in the U.S. Secretary of State. Secretary of what state? We have 57 states here. Big whooooops! I clearly confused the number of states here with the number of Islamic states in the world.Or maybe I had Heinz 57 on the brain. Who knows? Whichever answer is both politically expedient and won’t send my public approval ratings into the cellar, is what I meant. What’s that? My public approval ratings are already in the cellar? Well, let me say this about that. This. And I mean it.
Barack Hussein Obama
President of the United States
Dear President Obama,
What’s up with your middle name? Perhaps this is a tad provincial on mypart, but what happened to good old American middle names like “Kyle” or “Stewart”? And “Barack”? Well, I take that back. Look at my first name – “Napoleon”. Okay, Barry. Stop laughing right now. You’re the POTUS. Short jokes are tempting, I am sure, but they are easy. Don’t make any jokes. You are not funny, Barack. You know how I know this, even though I am buried like an onion in the ground? When the Jews don’t laugh at your jokes, you need a new joke writer. Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu and the lovely Tzipi Livni, according to my sources, do not find you funny. Not even one sous. Rabbi Shmuely Boteach doesn’t think you’re funny and Elie Weisel said, and I quote, “He is not a funny man.” It could just be perception, Barry, but you seem to have a “Jewish” problem.
Dear Mr. Napoleonowitz:
How dare you insinuate for one minute that I am not a friend of the state of Israel? I’ll admit, they have been a real pain in the tuchus to my Muslim brethren which I don’t have because I am, as you know, a Christian, (*see Reverend Wright). The United States has always been a great ally of the state of Israel. Well, until I took office. Those Jewish people are so sensitive! Just because the Middle East is as stable as unglued dentures – this is not my fault. I have always been and remain a fair man, a president of substance and compassion, and if anyone has any problems vis a vis my relationship with the (illegal) state of Israel, put the blame where it belongs – on George Dubya. He not only corroded U.S/Israeli relationships — he is also responsible
1) Global warming
4) The sinking of the Titanic
5) The San Andreas Fault
6) Those ugly platform shoes that should have gone out of style with The BeeGees.
7) ‘Lite” mayonnaise
8) Those little unpopped kernels at the bottom of your movie popcorn that you think you can eat and wind up breaking a cap on
10) That HBO show, “Girls,” which really should be called “White Girls.”
11) Heather Mills-McCartney-Mills
12) “The Godfather Part III”
Bon soir, mon ami
Mon Frere Barry,
Bon soir? I’m buried. It’s always a “bon soir.” Or, a soir, at least. But that’s good. I was never a fan of the outdoors. I freckle(d). So when you look at pictures of great battles I commanded, I’m the one in who hung out in the Grand Imperial Tent, eating Chicken Marengo and Lobster Thermador, while my legions were blown apart by muskets, and butchered like baby lamb chops by the Duke of Wellington, among others. Remember, Barry – back in those days, SPF 45 sunscreen didn’t exist. I can handle the heat, but the humidity kills me. Or would, if I weren’t already dead.
Oh, and re: Rahm Emanuel. He’s what Grammy Hall would call “ a real Jew.”
Hey! Napoleon! Dude!
Are you insinuating that I am not a friend to the Jews even though Israel isn’t really a country and it doesn’t belong to those Jewish people?
FYI, I like egg matzoh. With a little shmear,
(definitely a Jew-kinda-name ‘cause my daughters have been to Bar Mitzvahs, so there!)
It is true – there are many Jewish boys named Barry. But I’m willing to bet the Champs Elysee that there isn’t one Jewish boy named Barack. Am lying here –literally and – with my brilliant strategic mind, am wondering what you will do next.
Here are some politically ridiculous yet wise suggestions:
1) Turn Guantamo Bay into Cuban cigar factory. Once you return those prisoners to ISIS, it’s a Hilton Havana or “Survivor” location.
2) Invite Kim Jong-un to go bowling at the White House. I’d have said play golf, but that would have been too easy.
3) Chuck Hagel resigned. Ahmadenajad’s looking. Problem solved.
4) Be nice to Michelle because – honestly – no contest.
5) Ask John Kerry, “Why the long face?”
If I think of anything else, I’ll be in touch,