Love letters from your favorite politicians
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    Valentine's Day is the time to express affection — whether it's for that hot coed (if you're Anthony Weiner) or eight Iowans (if you're Rick Santorum). Whoever (or whatever) it is for these figureheads, North By Northwestern Politics gives them the opportunity to publicly express themselves.

    Mitt Mitt Romney

    Photo by Gage Skidmore.

    Dear Mitt,

    I believe in you, Mitt. I believe you can do great things. Even though the GOP seems to want an elderly libertarian or a crazy sweater-vest-wearer more than they want you, I still think you can do it. I love you and know you can pull through to get this nomination.

    I know it’s hard to go on sometimes. People call you a flip-flopper, but you’re really just open to new ideas. People get mad when you say you don’t care about the very poor, but what they don’t see is that you’re just acknowledging the elephant in the room and saying what every other egregiously rich, white male is thinking. Your critics just don’t get you like I do.

    Just look at yourself, Mitt. You’ve been called a robot in the past, but those people have clearly only known robots with rugged good looks, perfect teeth and phenomenal hair. You’re really just one of the guys, one of the disturbingly handsome, fearsomely charismatic, freakishly presidential guys. The people will come to see that, Mitt. They’ve already exhausted Herman Cain, Michele Bachmann, Sarah Palin and Donald Trump. Now they just have to get through Newt Gingrich, Ron Paul, Rick Santorum and that homeless guy who keeps saying he’s going to run things someday. Then they will elect YOU. I’m confident that day is soon to come.

    In these trying times, I realize you may not be able to rely on my love alone. Don’t forget that you will always have God, Utah and a boatload of SuperPAC cash on your side.

    I think about you every second of every day, Mitt. I can’t get you out of my head. My love for you is eternal. Never forget that.

    Yours always,

    Love Tweets from Anthony Weiner

    It seems that someone broken into my Twitter account… #boywhocriedhack
    @NUcoed was that not a direct message?
    @NUcoed interested in a few drinks or maybe a cocktail weiner tonight?
    Hitting up the no pants snow pants party with @NUCoed tonight #nopantsnoproblem
    @NUcoed Intercampus too crowded? Hop a ride on the weinermobile ;)
    happy v-day @speakerofthehouse. You’re the cheese to my macaroni :D #weinerandboehner forever
    @NUcoed did you see me on idol last night? #pantsontheground ;)
    @NUcoed got a package for you and it’s not in the hinman mailroom
    Clubbing with @NUcoed STOP WEINER TIME #canttouchthis #justkiddingyoucan
    I love college girls and I love drinking @NUcoed
    Met a nice girl walking down Sheridan road today. Shoutout to my fave new tweep @NUcoed
    Visiting @NorthwesternU today, just for kicks. I mean yeah, I’m 47 but these college kids keep me #foreveryoung

    Obama to the American People

    Photo by Pete Souza at the Obama-Biden Transition Project. Licensed under the Creative Commons.

    My darling America,

    I know things haven’t been perfect lately. I haven’t been the man you expected me to be and I know there are other men in the picture now. It must be tempting to run off with some perfectly coiffed Mormon or take a chance with that guy in the sweater vest.

    But this Valentine’s Day, I’m asking you to stay with me.

    It’s no secret that our relationship has been rocky. I always knew there was a part of you that didn’t trust me. Hell, it took me three years to convince you I wasn’t born in Kenya. But we’ve been through so much together, and you have to admit — things have gotten better.

    When I first met you, you were in a bad place. You had been stuck with an abusive boyfriend for eight inexplicable years and, by the time I came into your life, you were practically in depression. However, I stayed by your side and helped you recover. I even took out that pesky bin Laden just for you!

    I know I’m not perfect. I can’t promise you the Moon, like Newt Gingrich, but I can promise you stability and progress. The economy is on the rebound, we finally broke up with Iraq, and I even quit smoking, all to show you how much I care.

    Sure, I’m no Bill Clinton. I don’t have a saxophone or a surplus, but I can still be sexy. Just think — I sang three words of an Al Green song, and its sales jumped 490 percent. Mitt Romney sang three verses of “America the Beautiful,” and half of Florida fell asleep.

    All I want is for you to be happy, America. Stay with me and I’ll make sure that happens.

    Your Valentine,

    Newt Gingrich to the Moon

    Photo by Gage Skidmore.

    Dear Jackie Battley,
    Dear Marianne Ginther,
    Dear Callista Bisek,
    Dear Moon,

    I know you are seven years older... nine years younger... twenty three years younger... roughly 375,000 kilometers away from me, and I know that I am your student...already married...not a celestial body, but I cannot stop thinking about you. Your radiance is so irresistible that I must go against my better judgment and ask you to let me settle a human colony on your surface this Valentine's Day so we can take our relationship to the next level.

    My passion for you is only surpassed by my passion for this country, but that is no matter, as it is partly my intense nationalism that has led me to you. My love for the United States often makes me work too hard, which in turn sometimes leads to decisions like asking to nestle in your sweet craters (in spite of my current marital status). Do not let it bother you, my sweet, for I am sure that the Catholic Archdiocese of Atlanta will be willing to annul my current marriage. One day soon we shall be together in heavenly bliss.

    Lovingly awaiting your response,

    Rick Santorum to the Iowa Eight

    Photo by Gage Skidmore.

    Hey baby,

    I know we haven’t talked in a while, but I wanted to write this note to tell you how much I love you — and only you — and that I’m sorry, so sorry, for betraying you with Colorado, Missouri and Minnesota.

    Those other states don’t mean a thing to me. They were flashes in the pan, steamy affairs, one-night stands. They don’t have our history. They don’t share what we share. They can’t match our love.

    I know things haven’t been the smoothest between us. Back in December and January with all the mixed messages and waffling, it was worse than trying to get John Kerry to decide on, well, anything. It was touch and go, yes and no. I didn’t even know if it would work. Then you fell victim to the sweet nothings that fancy-talking, mousse-loving RINO Mitt whispered in your ear and it looked to be over.

    I was crushed. More distraught than when I found out what my last name meant on Google.

    But then you came back to me. And by gosh, it was beautiful.

    I remember the night it happened like it was my first Bible study. I was de-linting my sweater vests when I got your call, and it was like my world was turned on its end. Now I understood what Rihanna meant by finding love in a hopeless place, especially considering how hopeless my campaign looked in the first place.

    Yet, time made us grow apart, the passion faded, and as all candidates do, I hit the road. This is where I was overcome by weakness.

    First it was Colorado. It had been so long since we had last seen each other I couldn’t control myself. A candidate, even one who doesn't appear to emote like a human, has his needs.

    Then came Minnesota, the state with the Twin Cities. You know every guy fantasizes about twins, and the opportunity did present itself, so I’ll leave it at that.

    But I hit rock bottom with Missouri. I was rolling, on fire and hooked on the thrill. I couldn’t be stopped until I realized the error of my ways.

    It was when I was practicing smiling in front of the mirror that the shame set in. I knew that I had wronged you and broke your trust and devotion with my selfishness and impurity.

    Don't you miss staying up ‘til dawn talking about heartland values and making America a Christian nation again? I miss the days we spent planning to strip the government of all regulatory power, as long as it still doesn’t allow homosexuals to get married or join the military or let fetuses be aborted regardless of their conception. 

    I miss us. Because you make me smile — and it doesn’t even look awkward or crooked like usual.



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