by Joe Biden
Dear Ayatollah ,
Look, fat, I’m sittin’ here in Delaware, thinkin’ about how we can, you know, bridge the gap, as my old man used to say. Diplomacy, it’s like ridin’ a bike—except the bike’s on fire, and you’re in the desert, and there’s no water, but you get the point. Anyway, I got this fantastic gadget, my autopen. Best darn thing since sliced bread—or, uh, since we landed on the moon, which, by the way, we did, in case you heard otherwise from Corn Pop, that bad dude I used to tangle with.
This autopen, lemme tell ya, it’s a game-changer. Signs my name smoother than I used to charm folks back in Scranton. You got a lotta papers to sign over there in Tehran? Proclamations, fatwas, death warrants, rape warrants, decrees, what have you? This baby’ll do it faster than you can say “Fordow.” No more writer’s cramp, no more ink smudges. I’m offerin’ you the chance to borrow it, no strings attached—well, maybe a string or two, but we’ll talk about that later, Jack.
Now, I know what you’re thinkin’: “Joe, why’s this guy bein’ so generous?” Well, here’s the deal: I believe in peace, love, and, uh, ice cream. My favorite’s chocolate chip, by the way. You got ice cream in Iran? We could share a cone, talk about the future, maybe not blow each other up. That’s the Biden way. I mean, c’mon, man, we gotta stop this malarkey of us continuing to kick your mullah rear end. My grandkids, they’re growin’ up in this world, and I don’t want ‘em dodgin’ drones on their way to school. Well, all but one. We don't talk about her, Jack.
So, whaddaya say? I’ll have my people ship the autopen over—insured, of course, ‘cause the Post Office, well, they’re great, but sometimes packages end up in Gaza with condoms, and I’m not drivin’ out to get it. Let’s start small, build some trust. You sign some stuff, I sign some stuff, and maybe we can sit down and figure out this whole Middle East thing. Like I told Xi Jinping—or was it Putin?—anyway, I said, “You don’t gotta be a rocket surgeon to know we’re all in this together.”
God bless you, and, uh, God bless America, and—well, you know the thing.
Sincerely,
Joe
P.S. If you’re ever in town, swing by. I’ll show you my Ray-Bans. They’re cool as heck. Hunter can show you some cool stuff in the garage, too.
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