On treading lightly

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Pat Robertson
Re: Giuliani

Dear Pat,

I guess we haven't spoken since meeting on that cargo plane full of illegally mined African gold back in the eighties. As the shady looks we gave each other during the flight have already said, I know what you've been up to, you know what I've been up to, and it's best to just go our seperate ways. Still, I think we made the kind of connection only those dealing in shady back room business together can make. I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm sorry I didn't send you a condolence letter when you lost the '88 presidential election. You must have been crushed--especially after God told you you were going to win. What a let down.

Anyway, I read about your blossoming relationship with Republican presidential candidate and hero of 9/11 Rudy Giuliani, and I figured this was my opportunity to make up for lost time. You see, as a former comrade in sneakery, I feel like I should warn you off this guy before it goes too far. If I may be so bold, I've noticed your track record with male companions has been a bit spotty. Most of the televangelists you've befriended over the years are now under congressional investigation, and your former friend with benefits Jerry Falwell keeled over and landed neck-fat-first into a legacy of seething, reactionary bullshitery. You should be using your remarkable upper body strength to pick yourself up and dust yourself off--not rolling in the mud pit that is an association with Rudy Giuliani.

I know you two made time on a flight to Israel some years back (what is it about you and airplanes?), but I happen to know the guy. He's bad news. Sure, he might throw some legislation your way if he makes it to the White House. Maybe you'll get a wink as he vetoes some kind of mandatory sodomy bill. But the next thing you know, he'll be shacking up with a younger, more lively faith healer. He likes the newer vintages. By the time you're fed up enough to kick him out of your life, he'll just go sleep on the expensive luxury couch of one of his gay New York buddies. He'll be dressing in drag and performing abortions in no time--and you'll just be hole up in the 700 Club studio chowing down on Ben & Jerry's while sighing wistfully at footage of President Rudy tearing down another strip club.

This is a warning from an acquaintance in the know, Pat. Heed it like you would the voice of God. Unlike His, my predictions sometimes come true.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman