Dear Friend,

And when I say “friend,” I mean it in the normal way, not “someone I’ve been sleeping with for 13 years.”  Unless, of course, I have been sleeping with you for 13 years.  In that case, I do mean it that way.

It is with a heavy heart that I have decided to end my inspirational quest for the White House.  After much reassessing and reconsidering, I have decided to spend more time being screamed at by my wife.  And by “more time,” I mean 24 hours a day, stopping only for bathroom breaks.

But before I go, let me share with you my final thoughts on my campaign.  After months of crisscrossing this great land of ours and participating in over three hundred televised debates, I am being disqualified because of an extramarital affair.  And that raises the following question: are you fucking kidding me?

I mean, let’s get real.  I never heard of Libya.  I didn’t know whether that CNN dude’s name was Wolf or Blitz.  And my only training for running the #1 nation in the world was running its #8 pizza chain.  Yet none of that, I repeat, none of that disqualified me.  In fact, I was the front-fucking-runner, as long as I kept my 9-9-9 in my pants.  (I have no idea what I meant by that — I just like saying 9-9-9.)

But here’s the part that really kills me.  You’re kicking me to the curb because I was messing around, and instead you’re going with… Newt Gingrich?  I repeat: are you fucking kidding me?  Oh, I know what you’re saying: you love Newt because he’s an “intellectual.”  Well, Newt Gingrich is the intellectual of the Republican field the way Moe was the intellectual of the Stooges.

And that leads me to my final point: you disgust me, America.  Right now if I had my way, I’d up and move to another country.  I really, truly would.  Only I don’t know where any of them are, and my wife won’t let me leave the house.

Goodbye forever,

Herman