Thursday, January 3, 2019

West Virginia, Mountain Mama, take me home, country road.

We're back with another Thursday Thrashing letter to start the new year. I know many of you thought I was crazy when I set out on the task to write a letter to all 53 of US Republican Senators. then again, many of you are not aware of my outsized discipline (except when it comes to alcohol, sweets and meats.)

But, we are in the home stretch. With about 10-15 more letters to go. Pffft, that's nothing.

Today's letter goes out to the junior Senator from West Virginia. If you've ever seen the documentary The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia, you know how difficult it would be not to reference the shall I put this...cultural anomalies of the Mountaineer state.

In fact, as you'll soon see, it requires the type of self restraint that I'm simply not possessed of.



Senator Shelley Moore Capito
117 Russell Senate Office Building
Washington, DC 20510

Dear Senator Capito,

Last week, my surging Syracuse Orange football team put a beat down on your West Virginia Hillbillies...oh, I'm sorry, Mountaineers, at the 2018 Camping World Bowl. 

I believe the score was 138-0. 

I might have the exact score wrong. But as a senator working with the Trump administration I'm sure you've come to realize the futility and unimportance of specific numbers. The same goes for words, facts and truths. They're all fair game and up for subjective interpretation.

Nevertheless, when it came to time to award the prestigious Camping World trophy, they handed it to my team. Not yours, who were already in the locker drowning their sorrows in rotgut moonshine. 

And so when it came time to pen this week's letter to a Republican US Senator (part of my mission to write to each and every one of you sycophantic overachievers) I knew I had to seek out the representative from the Cornpone State.  

You can imagine my surprise when I discovered that the legendarily progressive people of West Virginia had sent a member of the fair haired sex to represent them in Washington DC.  

My lord. 
What's next? 
Are they gonna allow womenfolk to drive automobiles?

Most shocking, or perhaps not, was your complete silence and conspicuous invisibility during the raucous Bret Kavanaugh hearings. I'll remind you, his confirmation brought to the forefront a host of women's issues. I suppose you were more focused on your local constituents and their access to proper foot coverins' -- aka shoes, above the Mason Dixon line. 

For readers who will be seeing this letter in a forthcoming book, it should be noted that you, Shelley, have only been in the US Senate since 2015. So it would be unfair to lump you in with the Hatchs, McConnells and Grahams of this world, who have spent decades in the Upper House while accomplishing so little. 

Though they have successfully pinned their legacy to future face palming historians who will look back at this administration and think, "WTF?"

Besides Shelley, you, a Dukie, a dyed-in-the-wool Republican and a former Cherry Blossom Princess, and me, a half Jew, half Scottish wiseass from the Bronx, NY, have something very unique in common. 

Both our fathers are convicted criminals and have spent considerable time in prison.

How weird is that?

My father was caught smoking marijuana in 1947 while serving in the US Army. They arrested him, court martialed his Jewish ass and threw him in jail for a year at Camp Gordon in Georgia.

Your father pleaded guilty to five felonies including extortion and taking more than 1/2 million dollars in illegal payments from the Maben Energy Corporation. He spent close to three disgraceful years in a cushy federal prison. And another few months in supervised home confinement.

But here's the thing, Shell. 

Marijuana is now legally sold in many states and my father's transgressions would barely register a glance from authorities.

Your daddy, however, would still be in the clink. As corruption, illegal campaign contributions, extortion and lying under oath are still felonies. Well, at least as of this writing they are. 

Before this is all over, Captain Fuckknuckle may request that you and your cronies rewrite the laws to his benefit. 

And if past is prologue, naturally, you will.


Rich Siegel
Culver City, CA 90232 

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