HLS - The Letters Of Harvey L. Slatin

June 14, 1988

Hey, there, Udo!–

As promised, this letter is written upon our return from taking the pulse of the west from the Pacific to the Big Muddy (all in-depth analysts use appellations like that without embarrassment).  We are prepared to say that The American People are solidly behind you.  It is time to put an electro-chemist in the White House.

Will you accept the nomination?  No press conferences will be called until your reply is received.

Who will be your running mate?  (I am not interested, but would not mind being party treasurer.)  How about Semour Katkoff?  Or Arnold Bolnick?  Either would make a strong ticket.

We drove through mountains and plains, rain and wind and heat.  The pioneers had it easy by comparison.  One tire was destroyed by a bad road, and another leaked from a nail.  We pressed on courageously.  We had forgotten that most of the cooking in the country was frying, and the fried entrées are enhanced with ketchup.  Alfalfa sprouts are unknown in the middle of alfalfa country.  Malnutrition notwithstanding, we struck out through the heartland of America.  (In Kansas we actually stayed at a motel called Heart of America.  No alcoholic beverages, but unlimited ketchup.)

As Martin Johnson put it: “The natives being friendly, we decided to stay the night.”

Our conclusions–in addition to finding unanimous support for your policies–are these: The climate in the Middle West is too hot and humid; the national highway system is not in good condition, although it is under repair in many states; gasoline prices are lowest in Kansas and Missouri; one brand of ketchup is as good as another.

If you accept the nomination, I’ll start to raise funds immediately.  Who would refuse to contribute, with de Silva for an enforcer?

Regards to Anne and Thomas (Would she mind being First Lady?  Would Thomas mind searching for Easter Eggs on the White House Lawn?)

That about wraps it up here at Indigestion Central.  “And as we paddle away into the setting sun, the natives wave us a fond farewell.”

Fred C. (“Vote Electro!”) Dobbs

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