Boston “T” Party
Dear BLUNT Radio,
So I was told by a friend that I needed to send this in. I have a secret and I am frankly tired of the stress of it all. My name is Maybelle Delphine and I am the secret mistress of Thomas Jefferson. It started back in April 1801 when he first took office. I was his secretary and I knew he had eyes on me. I paid him no mind. For one he looked like any old bat and I was much more interested in his handsome bodyguard. As time went on though his personality grew on me…..who am I kidding? I was trying to fasten the receptacle, or I believe you would say in your time "secure the bag". I started lifting my knickerbockers for the president and showing him these ankles on the daily. Literally any sight of skin would send this man over the edge. I began fornicating on the daily with this man and began to ravage his coin purse like a rabid dog. Anything I wanted, he bought. I guess you could say I was a conurbation woman. Excuse me, in your speak "City Girl". I made those large patches in his jackets leak with coinage into my hand. My mother raised no lady but a whore of Babylon with great pussy management. I have no shame in life or monetary choices. That's just me though…..
It was all nice until I found out what this man was doing. I walked in on him bending over one of his slaves. I may be a whore and coinage sycophant but I will not condone the sexual mistreatment of another woman. No matter what the shade. I questioned him about this and he told me to stay in my place. As a result I am. My place is with my fellow women and advocating for them! I can't hold on to this secret anymore. I can't bear the thought of him throwing his limp manhood on those poor women. No matter their living situation. It isn't right. I know I am a mure mistress on the side but perhaps by sending this letter to the future I can help spread the news of his crimes. This man does not deserve the presidency or to be on the 2 dollar bill! He is a rapist, ravager, and a cheat! I know I may be lying with him but that's of my free will. Those poor women have no choice and I heard that many of them are pregnant. I don't know what else to do as a woman of the time. Can you spread the word of his crimes? Can you make sure people know the truth?
Dear BLUNT Radio,
I hope you all have your oral hygiene together because this story is going to floss your gums. My name is Louis Francois and I am an apprentice dentist underneath Dr. Jean-Pierre Le Mayeur, the man responsible for your general’s so-called wooden teeth. I believe you all call him a George Washington? It all started it in 1781, when Dr. Jean-Pierre left the British forces because some tea-drinking POULE MOUILLÉE
(it’s wet chicken for your English sacks of shit) spoke more words than his callous mouth could handle. I believe in your language, you Americans call it, “talking sheet”. We found Mr. Washington and he and the doctor became good amí. Almost too good of amí. George was not as good looking and charming as these Americans made him out to be. First off, the man’s oral hygiene was so horrendous that his teeth were literally falling out of his mouth by time he hit the tender age of 24. Oh mon Dieu! His smile reminded me of the devil scarers we use on Hallow’s Eve with the carved out mouths and eyes. He begged Dr. Jean-Pierre Le Mayeur to give him teeth. He was très sensible about his appearance and was a cry baby despite him being an abusive SAC À MERDE, especially towards those poor slaves.
Speaking of abusing poor slaves, I mentioned oral hygiene earlier in this letter. In your times and culture, the statement would be, “the math is not mathing”, I assure you all that your brave president wasn’t brave enough to chew with splinters in his gum. In other words, your sans-couilles president and you Americans were so keen on preserving your reputations that you allowed your descendants to believe a fairytale. After several years, Mr. Washington’s mouth was only fit enough to suck the milk out of his wife’s dry tit. He begged Dr. Jean-Pierre to make him dentures that were fit for a general’s looks. Mind you, the man looked like a pig rolling in mud and shit already and thought a denture could fix a face only an American would love. He paid the doctor 12 shillings for the teeth, which is dirt cheap in your time, and I never understood why he would pay us for new teeth. I understood when Dr. Jean-Pierre came back with teeth that were bloodied and some still attached to the gums. I nearly vomited and thought the doctor went mad and robbed a young person of his jaw. I was not completely wrong. The moment he told me he had gotten them from cursed devils with no use, I understood where those teeth came from or in better words, who they belonged to. Mr. Washington paid the doctor to implant the teeth of living slaves in his mouth. I know the doctor would literally have my jaw for telling you all this but I have to tell you all this truth. I hope this gives you all this peace.
