Dear prime ministers, queens and despots (and I'm not just talking about you, Vladdy! LOL!!),
As you know, some fruity Aussie named Julian Assange runs a cyber fib clearinghouse called Wikileaks, which rudely disseminates classified documents about a bunch of flap-doodle that never happened anyway. And now, I've been informed that Wikilies is fixing to publish hilarious jokes me and my homies at the State Department crack about you when we're kicking back with a case of Lowenbrau and a stack of girlie mags.
So I've decided to take the bull by the balls (shush, Bill) and head this awkward whoop-de-do off at the pass and let you hear it from the horse's mouth (Bill, I said zip it). Let's dive right on in, shall we?
First, to German Chancellor Angela Merkel: girl, you know we're besties. Thank you for the "Christmas at Auschwitz" slow globe. I regret ever texting Ram Emanuel that you look like Fred Mertz in a control top, mincing about in Ethel's clothes. I may have commented on Sarkozy's Facebook wall once or twice about your Bonnie Franklin haircut and those bunion-plagued feet you're always airing out at the G8 summit. And I don't really think your wardrobe looks like Dress Barn had a fire sale.
Next, I'd like to address my dear friend and President of France Nicolas Sarkozy. I wish I could take back that email I sent to Biden calling you an elf-eared absinthe-swilling oompa-loompa with camembert breath. And it may be true that me and your wife Carla once smoked a jay in the Lincoln Bedroom and somehow my wedding ring got caught in her labia piercing. It was no big deal, really. We laughed about it.
And now to you, Hu Jintao. I regret being overheard in the Pentagon men's room giggling into my iPhone about that vast collection of ladyboy dildo porn the CIA found on your personal laptop. Yes, your wife's moo shu dachsund made my poo come out in a spray for two weeks.
There are so many others. Vladmir Putin, wish I could take back the Yahoo IM conversation I had with Robert Gates about how you smell like a dog got into the vodka and puked into a bottle of aqua velva. Karzai, your Afghan Presidency is not like a python babysitting a baby bunny. And I bitterly regret exposing your vast My Little Pony collection to ridicule. King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia, sorry I commented on The Huffington Post that we have satellite photos of your subterranean all-boy harem on the outskirts of Medina.
Finally, to Queen Elizabeth. I was tipsy on rum and Dr. Pepper when I blackberried Barney Frank about how we have intel on the contents of the patent leather purse dangling from the crook of the royal elbow: spearmint Tic-tacs, a well-worn copy of The Well of Loneliness and a half-empty bottle of amyl nitrite. I'm sorry for making public your nightly routine of arm wrestling Prince Philip for who gets to be the top.
Hugs and tugs,
Madame Secretary Clinton sez: "I hope WikiLeaks doesn't disclose my subscription to this blog's feed."