Newspapers across New Mexico reported the outgoing governor left a letter on her desk for the incoming governor. It’s a tradition. They all do it.
Only here will you get the real scoop. Susana wrote back. Your humble columnist has the only known copy of that letter.
William, I hope you don’t mind my dispensing with the traditional “dear.” I mean, really!
Your transitional letter was received and noted. You want me to stop talking trash about your administration. Well, OK, but that’s hardly helpful advice. I am wallowing in a sea of debt. What I really need is a lifeline. Do you know of anyone who wants to buy your Choo Choo?
I’m writing, William, to find out about some of the stuff you left in your office and what you want me to do about it.
Where should I send the replica of the Oval Office Rug? Helen, the marvelous lady who helps me keep this place tidy, said you would have her drag the heavy thing out of the closet when you were alone some afternoons.
She said she would peek in the door to see you leaning back in your recliner, a cigar in your hand, sipping a glass of Merlot, humming along to “Hail to the Chief.” She said you had a wistful smile and a dreamy look on your face. William? You really need to talk to someone about this.
Oh, before I forget. Yesterday’s mail brought a scathing letter from the Billy the Kid Historical Society thanking you for absolutely nothing. They are still mad about your refusing to pardon that scrawny, murderous little weasel. They write, “Mr. Richardson, we discussed possible campaign donations should you again seek office. Please note the enclosed.” If it is all the same to you, William, I am giving their $25 McDonald’s gift card to my hubby. He is more than a little miffed that I sent packing two of the three cooks at the Mansion.
You’ll remember that under the office window there are those hidden cabinets that blend in so well they are hardly noticeable? I thought those would be an ideal place to store my Sarah Palin posters and other Sarah thingies, but was shocked to find the shelves are still full of box after box of Super Sized Snicker Bars. Did you have an addiction other than one for power, William?
This next one is a real puzzle. You left behind in the corner filing cabinet 14 pathetic letters from some strange fellow in Ruidoso. His handwriting is horrible, but his name looks like “Nedward Cantrell.” I guess he wanted a job or something, keeps begging you to appoint him as a “spokesman.”
In this one letter he is saying “I am sorry I called you Chubby Cheeks, Mr. Richardson. I really would be a great spokesman. If I could just have a job as spokesman, say, for the New Mexico State Barbershop Commission, I bet I would have plenty of time to come over to the Mansion on Saturday mornings to wash your black SUV.”
This fellow seems pleasant enough if not particularly bright. I note you didn’t bother to respond.
The courtside Los Angeles Lakers ticket stubs autographed by Jack Nicholson? Glad you left them behind. I’ll see what I can get on eBay to help reduce your horrible deficit.
I’ve got to close now. Busy, busy, busy here. Just this moment the Fed-Ex guy is handing me a package the staff says needs my attention.
Until next time, or more likely, never,
Susana M. Martinez
Oookay, what’s this now? Wait. Oh, no. It’s a CD from the nutcase in Ruidoso. He’s recorded himself singing to me! No, dear Lord, please, make him stop.
Oh! don’t you cry for me…
I come from Rueedoser…
A spokesman sure to be!
Have a nice day.