My vast research team has done it again. The world has been wondering what was actually said in Joe Biden’s letter to incoming President Donald Trump. The following is for your reading pleasure.
Dear President Roosevelt, I was just at your funeral the other day – I hope you’re feeling better. Today is the day when you become president and I become vice president. I hope to be of any assistance to you as we make our way to Delaware.
I want to wish you and Jackie the best over these next few years. I hope John John and Caroline enjoy living in the White House. Maybe you can build a little stable for their pony Macaroni, or is it Pasta?
I was too poor to have a pony when I was a kid. As my father used to say, “It’s either food on the table or hay in the stable. Take your choice, kids. What’ll it be? ” All the other friends of mine had great pets, but all I could have was a rat. So I would walk my rat on a leash while all the other kids would have dogs and cats and ponies.
Your son Barney is quite a tall young man. I had a son Beau who got eaten by cannibals in WWII. He was quite a guy. Now my son Huntwad is the smartest man I know, and my wife Bill is a doctor. I’m not kidding, Jack.
And speaking of rats, the only reason you’re president is because of the rats in my party. They sold me out for my idiot vice president. I’m talking about rats Nancy Pelosi, Adam Schiff, Obama, the Clintons – they’re all Judases. They put a knife in my back just like the guy who betrayed Jesus, you know that Judas the Chariot guy. He must’ve been a Roman. I grew up in a Roman neighborhood. In fact, and I’m not kidding, we used to have a lot of gladiator fights. One day I killed Corn Pop. And would you believe it? After I killed him, he started feeling better and we became good friends after that! I’m not kidding.
Those gladiators remind me of the Philadelphia Eagles who play football. They’re my favorite team, and it says on the back of their helets CHOOSE LOVE. That’s always been my motto to live by, Choose Love. That’s why I sniff ladies’ hair. It’s my way of saying in a kindly way that I, as president, love. You might want to try it.
I loved football. I turned down an appointment to West Point because I wanted to go to the Naval Academy and play quarterback for the Navy. But I let a guy named Roger Stepback, or something like that, play. He was pretty good, so he became the quarterback.
Going back to love: There was one guy I couldn’t love too well, a guy we called Corn Pop. He was a bad dude. Oh yeah, I think I mentioned him before.
But I was a good dude as a lifeguard at our municipal swimming pool. I used to let the kids rub my curly leg hair and sit on my lap. I was always out to please first and foremost everybody around me. That’s what Americans do. I’m not kidding.
And I was a good dude as president. I let a whole lot of people from other countries come here to share in the good American life. Our borders are just artificial lines on a paper, so I thought we should share our riches.
My son Hunter was a good guy too. He went to Ukraine to help the people there; then he went to China and a bunch of other places, all based on his loving heart. He helped a whole lot of young ladies develop their professions and got criticism for it. Oh well, the media were never fair to me.
Well, good luck, Teddy, Abe, Dwight, Adolf, or whatever your name is. Sniff all the hair you can get, and don’t let the cannibals get you. And if I get lucky, look for me on Mt. Rushit.
Your friend, Joe. I’m not kidding.
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