Dear Allen: The End? This Is Not the End!

Our dear Rep. Allen West.

Note from the editor: In the tradition of “Congressman’s Corner,” Salty Eggs has invited Rep. Allen West to field questions from his South Florida constituents. Until we get a response to our query, we will do our best to answer questions on his behalf, based on what we know of his temperament and politics.

Dear Allen West,

You may be aware of the nation’s tendency to ridicule the state of Florida for its tradition of electoral dysfunction. If so, you are insensitive to this. You insist on more recounts, even though every recount seems to put you further behind. For God’s sake, man, get a hold of yourself! This is bigger than you. If our state continues to demonstrate an inability to perform the most basic act of democracy, there is a very real danger that the two parties will come together on Capitol Hill and decide to simply disenfranchise this entire state, making us a lesson for other states like Arizona, another cultural wasteland full of snowbirds that is showing incipient signs of electoral incompetence. Is that what you want on your Wikipedia page? “Allen West was in Congress for two years and then the federal government stripped Florida’s right to vote. The End.”?

T Shaw
Lantana

Dear Mr. Shaw,

It is more than probable that I am not understood. But I fear, indeed, that it is in no manner possible to convey to the mind of the merely general reader an adequate idea of that nervous intensity of interest which, in my case, the powers of meditation busied and buried themselves, in the contemplation of the most ordinary objects of the universe. Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence — whether much that is glorious — whether all that is profound — does not spring from disease of thought — from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect. Count the ballots again.

Loyal and steadfast! Lt. Col. (ret) Allen B West

Dear Allen West,

I play the fiddle and for the last week I’ve been perfecting that classic tune from the Charlie Daniels Band, “The Devil Came Down to Georgia.” I had even changed some of the lyrics to make sure my audience knew that I had cast you in the role of Satan. But now I hear that you have rejected the offer of this state’s GOP chair to run in Atlanta, your birthplace. I’d hate to have wasted all this time. Will you be coming up to our fair city for a visit any time soon? Do you have plans to eventually be buried in your hometown? Whatever the occasion, I would appreciate a few days advanced notice so that I can be there to serenade you.

L Duke
Atlanta

Dear Mr. Duke,

Hurrah! This is the last day, but it is enough. John Boehner won’t be out until this evening. He is gone and the servants are gone and the things are gone and there is nothing left but that great bedstead nailed down. This bedstead is fairly gnawed! But I must get to work. I don’t want to go out, and I don’t want to have anybody in, till John comes. I want to astonish him. This bed will not move! I tried to lift and push it until I was lame, and then I got so angry I bit off a little piece at one corner — but it hurt my teeth. It is so pleasant to be out in this great room and creep around as I please! I can creep smoothly on the floor. Why there’s John at the door! How he does call and pound! Now he’s crying for an axe. It would be a shame to break down that beautiful door! “What is the matter?” he cried. “For God’s sake, what are you doing?!” I kept on creeping just the same, but I looked at him over my shoulder. “I’ve got out at last,” said I. “And I’ve pulled off most of the paper behind which the rest of the ballots were hidden!” Now why should that man have fainted? But he did, and right across my path by the wall so that I had to creep over him every time! Please, I beseech you: count the ballots again.

Loyal and steadfast! Lt. Col. (ret) Allen B West

Have a question for the Lt. Col.? E-mail us at DearAllen@saltyeggs.com