Dear Mr. Gore, 
I’m writing to you today because I have this blog and your name just popped into my head. I read that your chokra hasn’t been working lately. Perhaps your friend Mr. DiCaprio can give you some pointers or at least loan you some of his extra viagra. I hear he was strutting his chokra a lot in his new movie about a wolf in New York City. I didn’t see it because it looked stupid and besides I couldn’t afford the exorbitant ticket fee. I have to pay my taxes.
Most people probably don’t thank you enough for all you do, sir. Flying hither and yon around the world, leaving a jumbo jet-sized carbon footprint, but obviously giving back to the smog-choked throngs below with your servant attitude by tossing out your sound-bites of wisdom about saving the planet for the next generation by not driving cars but instead taking the bus. So thank you, from the bottom of my carbon-coated heart.
I won’t bring up the silly Global Warming thing, cause I know you’ve heard from those nasty anti-believing peons too many times already. How dare they attack your theory about the ice caps melting by last year! Who are they to disprove such genius science? You have all the biggest and best experts backing you up and until temperatures drop below zero for days and days on end, the Minnesota governor actually cancels school for fear that some child’s extremities will crack off waiting for the bus, and the ice is so thick on the lakes that fishermen can’t drill through, then I… never mind.
Now that the weather is tamer and weathermen have gone back to light-hearted joking and making shadow puppets on their green boards, we slowly unthaw here in Minnesota and commence trekking to the bus stop in water-logged shoes and hanging our laundry out to grow stiff on the line. Because that’s what the little people without jets and limos and mansions do to save energy for you, Mr. Gore. Rest easy in your imported Italian leather recliner while you read the news on your seventy-five inch movie screen by the dim glow of 4000 Watts of energy-saving curly fluorescent bulbs.
We are as green as gourds here in Minnesota! We despise plastic bags, electricity, and running water. Save a Wolf, drink a Caribou. That’s our state motto. I don’t know what it means, but I think it has something to do with coffee.
I agree with you that it is totally unfair that Mr. Obama received the Nobel Peace Prize when you are the one who has worked tirelessly in pursuit of recognition for… something. Anything!
Mr. Gore, you have been an inspiration to me ever since you tried to kiss your wife on national television during one of those presidential campaigns. You didn’t even care that you looked like a cardboard cutout of a guy who’d been dead long enough for rigor mortis to set in. You just did what came natural and forced yourself on a woman who apparently didn’t really like you even then. But it all worked out, right? Now that she’s the ex. At least you don’t have to pretend anymore.
I know you still won’t concede on the presidential thing. Obviously, you were a strong-willed child, cause that stubborn, poochie-lip, streak in your character is still waging war with reality. Sadly, Mr. Bush did win and he did become president despite your refusal to acknowledge the obvious. But you can always take pride in the fact that you suffered your shame behind open doors… and a very bushy beard that would have competed pretty well against those duck dynasty guys if they’d been around back then. You might have even gotten on their show as an extra.
Well, I must close this missive for now. I’m truly thankful for all you’ve done for our country… wait, what did you do?
Until the next time I see you on national television at the UN promoting some “green” company that you have money invested in…
Your devoted fan,
Barbara
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