Dad had to deal with him.
Did you say Russia? Son, that's highly classified.
April
17, 2017
Dear
Neil:
If
anyone cared, I could prove my writing machines included a Royal manual typewriter, an IBM
used by Ronald Reagan, a Smith
Corona word processor purchased with spies watching me pick up an old mouse
with a ball—no infrared—and fail to know what the hell it was. Later, the U.S. Army would take all day to deliver
what was said to be a “special computer” with a model number of “300.” I’d
later surf on Bill Clinton’s IBM
laptop, and now I type upon the HP Obama
and Biden used to kill Osama Bin Laden.
If anyone steals it, someone dies by my hand. Then, I suppose I’m a CIA contract
employee if only anyone would bother to put me on a shell company payroll.
Imagine
my shock and dismay when I noticed LBJ used the same typewriter as daddy, and
where is that document image that sounds like Charles E. Hughes’ prose with
LBJ’s handwriting striking out passages and inserting corrections in ink? When
Charlie tried to start a book I said, “Dad, you don’t write very well,” and
apparently Johnson thought so too. Perhaps a rotten soldier boy has breached my
free firewall and “disappeared” it.
I
really enjoyed spending ten years in the U.S. living a life like a stuck needle
in the groove or a skipping compact disc. Now, I’m demanding a Passport from
your POTUS #45, a guy I feel sorry for and have labeled “The Incompetent.”
Before I go, weak CHARLES EVANS HUGHES genes demand a brief explication on your
Amendment #2 before an armed band shoots their way into the White House like
the Puerto Ricans aunt Veronica and Kathleen told me all about. How does auntie
know they were yelling “Harry! Get down!” with the president at a window
bitching at assassins? Gosh, I don’t know; but Howard Hughes, Jr. did have many
associates in high places, whereas I do not.
Why
not get in “strict constructionist” mode the next time a cop is killed with a
big handgun just for fun? When his widow’s suit against the gun manufacturer
reaches your panel, here is how I would define “Militia.” A “militia” the way
your without ESP Founders conceived it I am sure is something like this:
I
still live on gun-heavy Nagel Avenue and Ferguson II erupts. The Saint Louis whites
ride north in rusty old Jeeps and start shooting to “help” the police. After
weeks of gun battles on CNN, the police decide to check on the dog and spouse only
to “vanish.” The National Guard then “throws in” with the whites, but our
African-Americans just keep shooting when help arrives from Chicago, Memphis, and
Atlanta. Then, with the guard in disarray and Bill Hughes out of pizza, an old
pal pulls up with a copy of the Constitution and a big, ugly rifle. Yep, Bill
Hughes would go door-to-door and say deep intellectual things like, “Let’s
restore some order around here.” Since my old buddies figured on this eventuality
we have better weapons than the rabble and suddenly a convoy would pull into
Jefferson City by boat with poor old me as “Provisional Governor of the State
of Missouri” after some idiots had blown up the bridge. That is a lawful “militia” sir.
Now,
a brief discussion with your eight colleagues on the likelihood of this scenario
should elicit jokes, not law. However, I’m quite sure that is what the Founders
meant when it comes to carrying guns, so in my opinion even the well-regulated
“Conceal and Carry” permit is unconstitutional. Who can carry guns freely if I
had your job? Military, National Guard, and police—that’s all. No gun shop, no
gun range, no pink .32 in the mentally disordered woman’s purse, and no plans
for what I mockingly call “The Glorious Revolution” because a “strongman”
president muscled-up and took all the damn guns away.
It
was a pleasure not serving as Rehnquist’s clerk because I did not want to room
with D.C. homosexuals and Charlie Hughes said, “We can’t afford it.”
Have
a great time being driven nuts; I’m going to the EU.
With
a modicum of respect,
William
Charles Hughes
“Just
another Hughes from Wales”
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