My Dear Napoleon,
I know that the First Commandment of our great Contract With America’s Barnyard says that whatever goes on two legs is an enemy, but this is getting to be a bit much. When our great founding father, Old Major, said we should pick our fights, it didn’t seem to me to be exactly the same as saying we should pick fights. I have a plan for a windmill that would let us produce our own energy while greatly reducing our dependence on the two-legs. What say we run it by the electorate at the next Meeting?
Dear Napoleon and Guardian of the Nest-Egg,
Maybe I’m wrong, but didn’t the Contract With America’s Barnyard promise “zero base-line budgeting”? Our debt to Mr. Pilkington is very, very great, and the stores in the barn will not see us through the winter. I thought a balanced budget was the Second Commandment, but I can’t seem to find it written on the wall anymore. My brain is very small. Am I imagining things? Do you think I worry too much?
Yours in revolutionary struggle,
Dear Napoleon, Father of All Animals,
Since I am only a horse, of course, I had not realized heretofore that “Job Creation and Wage Enhancement”–the Third Commandment of our inestimable Contract With America’s Barnyard–was really a faith-based initiative. But now that I have seen the light, I am more of a believer than ever. And I will work harder! I will work harder!
Your obedient servant,
O Kind Protector of the Sheep-Fold,
Some of us seek clarification regarding the recent liaisons with every farmer in the dell. Didn’t the Fourth Commandment of our sacred Contract used to prohibit us from sleeping in a bed with lobbyists? Since when has it read “not sleeping in a bed with lobbyists with sheets”?
With only the best of intentions,
Beloved Benefactor to All Bovines,
Excuse me for saying so, but whatever happened to Farmyard Values? Perhaps it was not such a great idea to let that sly old Fox take over the news end of things. It’s all one hears these days–who’s rolling in the hay, who’s rolling in the muck. And who’s in charge of the Farmyard Commission for closing the barn door, might I ask? When that impertinent show-off bared her udder so provocatively at the Supper Bowl last week, I thought it most demeaning to all of us beasts of the field. Isn’t there a Fifth Commandment about our not behaving like drunken humans? Can’t seem to locate it on the rule board any more, but then, I’m old.
Begging your pardon,
Dear Lord of the Swill-Bucket,
If I may be so bold, you should be aware that there are very disconcerting rumors swirling that Snowball has not really run away to plot in a cave with the two-legs; and that Chicken Little came down with a lot more than just a touch of the bird flu; and that poor old Boxer is not really recuperating at the vet’s; and that Lambchop has become just that; and that Bessie is lately a burger. Word has it, and I beseech your generous contradiction, that each was alleged to have stumbled badly and that they have been taken to the glue-boilers, where various of their parts have been rendered, recycled and served up in the feed from which all of us partake. This is not what any of us thought was meant by communion among the species! Might I even suggest that this constitutes a clear violation of the Sixth Commandment that no animal shall devour any other animal? “Without fricassee sauce,” as far as I can recall, was neither in the wording nor the spirit of Animalism’s original intent.
Very, very, very humbly yours,
Felix the House Cat
Most Supreme Friend of Baby Goats Everywhere,
Please forgive our intruding upon your greatness for so small a thing as this petition, but some of us are hoping you might see fit to make good upon the glorious promise of your “No Kid Left Behind” pronouncement. Many of our kids want so much to learn to read and write. When some of us old goats were growing up, we had so much trouble reading that we could only decipher the first half of the Seventh Commandment: that “All animals are created equal.” As more of us have become educated, we have gradually been able to understand the rest of it: “…but some animals are more equal than others.” We rejoice in the pursuit of that greater equality.
Blessings upon you,
Dearest Napoleon and Compassionate Foe to All Evil,
It’s great to have you making all the decisions–makes all the animals feel so proud and powerful. But me? An enemy of yours? Hasn’t there been some mistake? I could be wrong, but even under the human’s rights, wasn’t there some commandment about having a hearing before being confined to my stall in the dark or condemned to the knacker’s? Would love to see the light of day once more. Would love to know what happened. And would love to know just who let all those dogs out…?
Yours in the eternal brotherhood of all boars,