AN OPEN LOVE LETTER TO KENNETH STARR
INDEPENDENT COUNSEL
INVESTIGATING THE SEX LIFE OF PRESIDENT CLINTON

Kenneth Starr
Independent Counsel
1001 Pennsylvania Ave., N.W.
Washington, D.C. 20004
Email: Kenneth_Starr@kirkland.com
My Precious and Most Esteemed Mr. Starr,

You don't know me, but I'm a secret admirer of you. I think you are the sexiest man in the world. Since you started probing into the sex lives of President Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky, I've wanted to marry you. If I wasn't a man, I'd want to have your baby. You make me want to wear lingerie, and leather bondage goods. All for you, my man of torture! I started having all of these hot and nasty feelings for you when you started investigating the sex life of Bill Clinton. I've been so hot since then, Kenny (can I call you Kenny?) I haven't been able to go to sleep each night until I kiss your picture I cut out of Time magazine. I have your tyrannical image on the wall in my bedroom next to Hitler, Stalin and Jeffrey Dahmer. The thought of you probing into Billy's sex life really turns me on, I mean in a big way, big boy. Kenny, dear (can I call you dear?) I know what you want, and I want to give it to you. Will you please do me a real hot favor? Subpoena me to the grand jury. I've been intimate with Senator Jesse Helmes, half the pages in congress, a couple of federal judges, and Janet Reno. When I was with Jesse Helmes, he got real excited when I talked about queers, atheists and communists. But it's you, dear Kenny. You're the one I want. If you're looking to interrogate someone about sex, please, Kenny, pick me! I can tell you about how Bob Dornan couldn't get it up for a Mexican democrat. But he just about died of ecstasy when I set him up with a transsexual abortion rights activist. While you're at it, will you please subpoena my mother to the grand jury? Grill her about my sex life. Drill her with your penetrating presence. The more you humiliate her, the more you rule over me, Sir. And if that doesn't get both of us going, sweety, then I have another hot idea in my nasty bag of tricks. Will you role-play for me, my dear tyrant? I want you to be Senator Joseph McCarthy. You know, the guy you have replaced in history. That's why I love you so much. You remind me of his paranoid, totalitarian ways. Please, Kenny baby! I want to hear you ask me, like you really mean it: "Are you now, or have you ever been a member of the Communist party?" Then, if you want me over and over again, you can subpoena my friends to testify against me. Nothing gets me more hot than knowing my friends have turned against me. Kenny, my dominator! Degrade me! Call me bad names! Make the press hate me! You brute! I want to lick your boots. (You do wear big, black boots, don't you?) But you know what really gets my juices flowing? The fact that you've spent $40 million going after Billy Clinton. Talk about potency, Kenny! You really know how to keep it up! You can really blow a wad! If you reach $100 million, my tyrant, I'll marry you, my stallion, my stud! But, let me tell you a secret, darling. When I think how much you'll spend to expose the sex life of one man, I get really wet when I think anybody else could be next. If we just opened up everybody's bedroom, think of the fun you and I could have together. I'm dying to know what goes on in YOUR private life, my dear. By the way, do you like to cuddle? Do you use whips and chains? Master! Throw away the constitution and tie me down! My love, I would give my right nut to be on the grand jury! To hear all those nasty little secrets would make me love you forever. My cute little dictator! But, please tell me dear. Do the jurors have private peeping booths from which to view the proceedings? And do those booths have tissue boxes to clean up with afterwards? You know, they must really get hot after hearing all that nasty sex talk. I go wild just hearing about it on the news. I know you're just dying to know all about Billy's little willy. You must have an awesome crush on him. You little devil. I used to think I wanted to be a pentecostal preacher, cause I could get all the fried chicken and bush I could eat. But, you've inspired me to change my mind. Now I'm going to law school so I can be an inquisitor. But tell me. Do they still use anal probes like they did in the middle ages? You make me proud to be an American. You, my good sir, have the sexiest job in the whole country. How I envy you. If you really want to get off, my dear, read the Malleus Maleficarum, Foxe's Book of Martyrs, and The Salem Witch Trials. I'm sure you must have one of the manuals of torture, published by the U.S. Government for the School of the Americas, at Fort Benning, Georgia, otherwise known as the School of Assassins , the U.S. training camp of right wing Latin American dictators. The manual, Interrogation and Combat Intelligence, makes my panties wet. And, no doubt, you have read Justine by de Sade and Venus of Furs, by Sacher-Masoch. You must know all the secrets of sado-masochism. You are the nastiest man on the planet. If I told you I had sex with the devil, I'll bet that would make you love me. You sweet brute! If you're looking for somebody to bust for lying, I can do it real good. Just humiliate me with your interrogations and I'll lie down anywhere you say. Since I found my true love in you, my dear, the word "deposition" is my favorite little jingle which tingles my dingle. I want you to question me with everything you have, baby. I'll take it all in, the whole rule of law. I want you to give me all the inquisition you've got. I'll be your slave. I'll lie for you. I'll give up all my rights and allow you to degrade me. I'll swallow every drop of your interrogation, Master. Please, Kenny, give it to me in a big way! Maybe together, we can really get this country going in the right direction.
Submissively awaiting your reply,

Mercury Coyote

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