An open wetter to Repubwican weaders of the United States Congwess.
Fwom: Elmer Fudd, concerned citizen.
I wish to dwaw your attention to a stowy I wead wast week in my wocal newspaper. It said you're thinking about going after Bill Cwinton again. Arwen Specter, a senator from Pennsylvania, says he might subpoena the former pwesident to testify about pardoning some fugitive billionaire. And Wobert Barr, a wepwesentative from Georgia, wants to pwobe the "pwanks" some members of Cwinton's staff pulled in his wast days in office - wemoving the w's fwom computer keyboards and stuff like that.
Gentlemen, I beg you to weconsider. Bewieve me when I tell you: This can wead you to nothing but heartbweak. I know from expewience. The twuth is, we're not so different, you and I.
I know what you're thinking: We're United States Congwessmen. What could we possibwy have in common with a cartoon character who's spent 60 years twying to outsmart a wascally wabbit - only to be outwitted at every turn?
Well, it seems to me you just answered your own question.
So many times, I had that wascal dead to wights. So many times, I thought: This is it. He can't get away fwom me this time.
But he always did. Either he made me walk off a cwiff or he cut my suspenders so my pants fell down, or he pwugged my gun bawwel and made it expwode. Do you know how bad it hurts when a gun bawwel expwodes in your face? Some of the twicks that wabbit pulled I still stwuggle to understand. Wike dodging buwwets at point-bwank wange. It's wike the wules of physics didn't appwy to him. Wike God himself was on his side. That wabbit was so wucky.
Now be honest. Isn't that the way you feel about Bill Cwinton? How many times did you figure you had him dead to wights? Whitewater? The Repubwican Wevolution? The government shutdown? Monica Wewinsky? But each time, he managed to twick you, to get away and weave you holding the dynamite stick. After the smoke cleared, his appwoval watings would be sky-high and you'd be standing there with gunpowder all over your face.
If you'll pardon the expwession: I feel your pain. I know what it's wike to want to nab that wascal sooo bad. Each humiliation just makes you that much more determined.
But you've got to wet it go before you end up wike me.
See, I had it all before I met that wabbit. House in the Howwywood Hills, twophy wife. Now all I have is a dwinking pwoblem and a facial tic that acts up whenever someone says - "What's up, doc?"
The good news is, I've found a thewapy gwoup for people wike me. Sylvester's in it. He's the cat who kept twying to catch Tweety Bird. Wile E. Coyote is also a member. Poor guy couldn't stop that darn Woad Wunner, even though he spent a fortune on Acme gadgets.
Maybe you should join, too. We're wearning to contwol our self-destwuctive obsessions. To live for possibility, not revenge. I think this would be good for you. Think about it: Your party has contwol of the White House and Pwesident Bush is getting good weviews. You have a golden opportunity to push your party's agenda. Would you weally wather spend your time trying to nail a scwewy wascal who can always find a way to wiggle out of a jam?
It's not that I bwame you for wanting to mount Bill Cwinton's head on your wall - especially for these latest contwoversies. Those "pwanks" his people pulled? Juvenile. And then he pardons some wich fugitive? Incompwehensible.
I know how you feel. You want to get the guy. You dweam evewy night of all the times he suckered you, then stood there chewing on a cawwot, nonchalant as you pwease. You see yourself sticking your wifle down his wabbit hole one day and before he can twy anything, you just bwast him and bwast him and bwast him.
I have that dweam myself sometimes when I forget to take my medication.
Anyway, I'll save a seat for you in thewapy. Thanks for wistening. That's all, folks.