Pelosi's Delegation Presses Syrian Leader

An Open Letter to Nancy Pelosi

Dear Nance,

I'm writing because when I called your office, the young fellow who answered the phone tried to hustle me off with a quick string of embarrassingly-insincere "thank you for your comments", like I was stealing precious time away from his trolling of craigslist for earnest vegan virgins. Or Fabergé eggs. I couldn't quite tell, you know, which way he swung.

Anyway, so tell me...how was Syria? Nice? I hear it's nice. Very Bible-esque, if you will. 'Dja buy any nice prezzies? I bet you did.

Listen, I know you've come under fire from the poor, retarded man in the White House and his blind albino drones for flying over to Damascus to have that little rap session with President Bashar al-Assad. The poor, retarded man even said that "sending delegations hasn't worked" and that "it's just simply been counterproductive". I assume he means in contrast to the many and sundry things he's done which have worked and have been productive. (Oh, maybe you know: when he was talking up The Surge, was he referring to the surge in sectarian violence that would follow his new initiative?)

And a Mister "Johndroe" over at the NSC tried to tweak your "road to peace" comment by saying that "that road is lined with the victims of Hamas and Hezbollah and the victims of terrorists who cross from Syria into Iraq..." blahdeblah, he was getting all JFK-rhetorical on your pert butt, Nance. Now, granted, he's a young man on a meteoric trajectory. Just think: he started off as just a regular college boy who, according to his bio, "attended the University of Texas at Austin" (I think they say that when one can't quite be arsed to finish all those Incompletes and fucking graduate already) and worked on the poor, retarded man's '98 gubernatorial campaign, then on his Presidential campaign in '00, then became an Assistant White House Press Secretary, then the Homeland Security Press Secretary, then Laura's Press Secretary, then "Director of Strategic Communications and Planning" at the State Department, and now he's Special Assistant to the poor retarded man and NSC Press Secretary besides. Hot fucking damn! That boy has drunk the Kool-Aid big-time, ain't he?! Or possibly something more viscous and protein-rich. But, at any rate, for someone who has done and said things I cannot even begin to imagine simply to climb the topply ladder to success, this fellow has got the poor retarded man's ear, so duck'n'cover, Nance!

*ha ha!*
But you know I'm with you, right? Totally. Except for one little thing.

When you were talking to the press before your departure from Damascus Int'l Airport, you said, presumably to quell the whole Nancy-Pelosi-is-a-treasonous-bitch thing on FOX™, "There is no division on policy between us and the (poor retarded man), be it on Israel, Palestine or Syria". But then you added, "As a mother I will exhaust every remedy for peace."

Umm...as the young people say nowadays, WTF???

I mean, I know in the past you've flogged that "as a mother and grandmother" thing like Simon Legree on a fresh black back, but you're in Syria, you're Speaker of the House, you're in a Hell-in-a-Cell match with the poor retarded man to win back control of U.S. policy in the Middle East. The best, most commanding thing you've got to say is that "as a mother" you'll exhaust every remedy for peace?!?!

How can I put this nicely...? Oh, I know: Jesus Fuck, Nance, would'ja drop that shit already?! I think we, as a nation, need someone who's, oh, I don't know...second in line for the Presidency, to ditch the folksy, aw-shucksy, I'm just a grandma bakin' cookies for the young'uns bullshit and step her fucking game up a notch or two. I think I speak for not a few Americans when I say, I don't give a floating fuck about you as a mother. I don't care if being a mother and a grandmother are warm, wonderful, skwooshy-wooshy life-affirming experiences. You're Speaker of the House of Representatives.
Act like it.
Talk like it.
Because I can assure you that only your children and grandchildren--and possibly not even they--care to hear how motherhood has informed your professional life.
'kay?

Good. Well, drop me a line or give me a call when you get back in town. We can do lunch. My treat.

Smooches,

the sobsister

P.S. All kidding aside, drop that "as a mother" shtick, like, yesterday. It makes you sound like an idiot. That shit may have worked at farmers markets and daycare centers on the campaign trail but it currently stinks of condescension and pretense. But I'll tell you what: you can reclaim it when the poor retarded man starts his sentences with "as a recovering alcoholic and cokehead...". Deal?