Office of the Attorney General, John Ashcroft
Memo 284,599 from J. Ashcroft
TO: K. Rove
CC: D. Cheney, A. Card, J. Falwell, P. Robertson, R. Novak
BCC: A. Coulter, P. Hilton
Re: Documents R4-M8392 to R4-M8395
The document laid before me by my houseboy, Pepe, last week is one that will haunt my dreams for years to come. Three nights of warm milk cut with a little Old Grand Dad cannot quell the inner turmoil of what I must show you. Our children, your children, America's children, God's children can view these sordid images on the information superhighway with a mere click of the clicker thing. If you haven't viewed Document R4-M8392 yet, I ask that you take a moment, stir up your courage, say a prayer to sweet Jesus and open your eyes slowly, possibly one at a time, and then maybe kind of squinty, so it's still a little blurry. The image before you is of two of God's creatures, pure and innocent (still going to hell because they are not baptized, of course) small kitties (long dead and currently in hell, judging by the age and the content of the photograph) posed in a compromising position.
If you're through vomiting in your waste basket, as I most surely did upon viewing these pornographic visuals, I can vividly describe their contents. The young kitten on the left, most likely what's called a "butch" lesbian, we'll call her Butch for simplicity's sake, is, to most eyes, beating the rug with a wooden stick; a stick similar to the stick my own father, "Wichita Chuck" Ashcroft would use on me as a child, whenever I appeared to be thinking an impure thought, or attempting to look down the blouse of Mrs. Baumgartner, my third grade Sunday School teacher. The kitten on the right, possessing what "Wichita Chuck" would call "whorin' eyes," or a "come-hither" look, appears to be either an effeminate male kitten, or what I've heard called a "lipstick lesbian" in an information superhighway chat room I visit to uncover deviant sexual behavior in our nation's high schools. While he or she, we can call he/she Leslie, for its ease and for its bi-gender properties as a name, appears to be coaxing Butch to pound and pound and pound away at the rug. Those of you who took physics in technical college know that when Butch hits the rug with "Wichita Chuck's" healin' stick, the vibrations begin a wave-after-wave ripple effect that massages Leslie's posterior area (whichever gender) over and over, causing the nether regions to shake rhythmically and dramatically. Whether Leslie can or does achieve a climactic sexual experience from Butch's deviant machinations, I can only shudder in wonder. I have enlisted four deputies and thirteen interns to investigate the specific climactic properties of feline copulation and expect their report by mid-June.
Until then, I look to you all for strength and guidance on this harrowing subject. It is my intention to speak to congressional representatives in hopes of stripping the information superhighway of animal husbandry fetishism documentation of all stripes. I await your response.
Yours in Christ,