That pesky Julian Assange, founder of WikiLeaks, is at it again. This time, he has intercepted a personal communication between Prince William and our natural born President. I make no value judgment on the appropriateness of Mr. Assange’s decision to release this private note, but I post the secret message for my loyal readers without reservations. Besides, there are no surprises here:
Dear Mr. President,
I wanted to personally thank you for the public release of your long form birth certificate yesterday. As we have previously discussed, the issue was creating a major distraction here in Great Britain, pulling journalists and paparazzi away from a matter of critical importance to the world order - my Royal Wedding. Now the press can finally focus on meaningful, substantive ceremonial issues, such as the color choice for the Queen’s hat and the design of Kate’s elegant yet naughty undergarments. I am thankful that these prenuptial curiosities will divert the prying English press from our island nation’s painful austerity policies, and onto our storybook love, exciting and new. Come aboard, we’re expecting you.
Kate also asked that I convey her gratitude to you. She had heard quite enough from that blowhard casino mogul, and his inane birther rantings were frankly making her a wee bit edgy before our big day. She did not need the extra aggravation of worrying about the legitimacy of your presidency on top of stressing whether the flowers will arrive at the church on time, or whether Camilla will get too drunk at the reception. I’ve told her that even if you were born in Kenya, the centerpieces would be beautiful and the bridesmaids’ shoes would match the dresses to perfection. But what do I know? As she often reminds me, I just need to stand there and smile. She has the tough part.
We received the package from you and Michelle today. Kate was very moved by your thoughtful wedding gift of Kenyan colonial period place settings. Where did you find such lovely china? Per your instructions, we will not display the gift at the palace without being served a legally binding court order, and the CIA courier will be renditioned to Kuwait as a precaution. I agree with you – whoever said, ‘There is no such thing as bad publicity” never ruled a country.
On a more private note, your choice of former President Bill Clinton as Special Envoy to my bachelor party was unexpected, but very well received by all the blokes in attendance. That guy can make things happen! Who knew that a plastic raincoat, an automatic umbrella, some Silly Putty, and a quart of liquid soap could create so much merriment! Harry in particular picked up some valuable connections that I am certain he will plug into in the near future. I don’t remember much from the evening, but I do recall Tony Blair making tasteless “Your High-ness” jokes after eating too many hash-laced crumpets. I have a vague recollection of him challenging Vlad Putin to a Sumo-style wrestling match. I am sure that he had a difficult time explaining all that dried raspberry Jell-O in his hair to his lovely wife. Please export Bill across the pond any time. He is welcome in my man castle.
Vice President Biden, however, was not on the guest list, and his unannounced arrival and participation in the festivities was borderline criminal. I can tell you several members of the “entertainment” had to be coerced to drop charges, as the allegations might have caused great embarrassment to your administration. His boorish behavior made Charlie Sheen look like an Oxford lad studying for his finals by comparison. I have forwarded a bill for the hotel room damages, which are quite extensive. I am told that the staff has yet to rid an awful barnyard smell out of the draperies. It is not my place to say so, but you might reconsider Ms. Hillary for a 2012 running mate. At least she won’t show up for a state dinner covered in body glitter. Feel free to remind the Delaware Diva that what is acceptable behavior in Scranton, PA is not acceptable in Paris, London, or even Liverpool, for that matter, regardless of what he thinks.
On to more pleasant business:
Now that you can legally obtain a U.S. Passport, you may change your mind and choose to join us at the Royal Wedding. You would be most welcome. A seat has opened up at to our token Muslim table. We kicked out the Syrian ambassador, so we now have room for one. I apologize for the table assignment, but I can assure you that it is close to the bar and well across the room from the DJ booth. I can also promise you that Quadaffi (or Kaddafi, Gaddafhi, or Qaddaffi – we guessed at the proper spelling for the invitation envelope) will not be there to create any awkward moments for you. According to his spokesperson, he is hunkered down with another pressing engagement. I think it is safe to assume that if he gets bombed this weekend, it won’t be from the complimentary champagne during our cocktail hour! LOL.
Once again, thank you for shifting the 24 hour news cycle back to me and my fiancée, where it rightly belongs. We look forward to basking in the overexposure for a change, at least until Mr. Trump decides to tease his next TV program with mysterious conspiracy theories about your education, upbringing, employment history, travel, friends, associates, smoking habits, or dangerous musical preferences. On a side note, Kate and I were always confident that you were born in Hawaii. I was less certain that Hawaii was a state.
P.S. – Please forward Tiger Woods’ private cell number. I could use his advice on my “swing” technique, if you know what I mean. Many thanks.
P.P.S. - My offer still stands – we’ll take Hawaii in exchange for the Falkland Islands and a territory to be named later. Think about it.