Dear Fred Thompson,
Don’t quit. Not yet at least. I know the polls show you in fourth place, and the media and most voters with an IQ over 14 peg you as an intellectual lightweight with hominy grits for brains, who mumbles and grumbles and tries to talk tough but flops like a beached sunfish because no one has any idea what you’re talking about. Hell, even that sweetheart Des Moines Register lady thought you were a dimwit when she asked you about global climate change and you were all “I NEED TWO MINUTES TO ANSWER SUCH EXCEPTIONALLY COM-PLI-CAT-ED QUERRIES, DAGGUM!” John McCain had barely even been to Iowa at that point and he’s still wholloping your tail.
But this election needs you. Not because you bring celebrity clout, because you don’t—No one remembers who played the admiral in “Hunt For Red October”—And not because of your hot wife, either. She’ll run for public office when she’s ready. But until I actually watched your first ad, I thought conservatives only talked and looked that in the movies (hey, come to think of it, you’d know a little something about that!). You even had the the really slow speaking style and, like, zero persons of color standing behind you, and, did you notice, your right elbow was perilously close to what has to be the largest sugar dispenser in the history of diners? Boy, that must have been some rush. Liberals haven’t seen anything like that since the third season of the West Wing, when that meat-headed former football player ran against Bartlett and got roasted.
When you’re gone, who will make fun of the “hy-brid au-to-mo-biles” and ask voters to “saddle me up”? No one is who. So don’t stop doing what you’re doing, Fred. Don’t ever stop. America needs you. At least for another couple of months.