Dear Malia and Sasha,

If you have not already done so, please read Barack Obama's letter to his daughters... and to the American citizens... and the world.

'What I Want for You — and Every Child in America'
By President-elect Barack Obama
- Next Tuesday, Barack Obama will be sworn in as our 44th President. On this historic occasion, PARADE asked the President-elect, who is also a devoted family man, to get personal and tell us what he wants for his children. Here, he shares his letter to them.

Dear Malia and Sasha,

I know that you've both had a lot of fun these last two years on the campaign trail, going to picnics and parades and state fairs, eating all sorts of junk food your mother and I probably shouldn't have let you have. But I also know that it hasn't always been easy for you and Mom, and that as excited as you both are about that new puppy, it doesn't make up for all the time we've been apart. I know how much I've missed these past two years, and today I want to tell you a little more about why I decided to take our family on this journey.

When I was a young man, I thought life was all about me-about how I'd make my way in the world, become successful, and get the things I want. But then the two of you came into my world with all your curiosity and mischief and those smiles that never fail to fill my heart and light up my day. And suddenly, all my big plans for myself didn't seem so important anymore. I soon found that the greatest joy in my life was the joy I saw in yours. And I realized that my own life wouldn't count for much unless I was able to ensure that you had every opportunity for happiness and fulfillment in yours. In the end, girls, that's why I ran for President: because of what I want for you and for every child in this nation.

I want all our children to go to schools worthy of their potential-schools that challenge them, inspire them, and instill in them a sense of wonder about the world around them. I want them to have the chance to go to college-even if their parents aren't rich. And I want them to get good jobs: jobs that pay well and give them benefits like health care, jobs that let them spend time with their own kids and retire with dignity.

I want us to push the boundaries of discovery so that you'll live to see new technologies and inventions that improve our lives and make our planet cleaner and safer. And I want us to push our own human boundaries to reach beyond the divides of race and region, gender and religion that keep us from seeing the best in each other.

Sometimes we have to send our young men and women into war and other dangerous situations to protect our country-but when we do, I want to make sure that it is only for a very good reason, that we try our best to settle our differences with others peacefully, and that we do everything possible to keep our servicemen and women safe. And I want every child to understand that the blessings these brave Americans fight for are not free-that with the great privilege of being a citizen of this nation comes great responsibility.

That was the lesson your grandmother tried to teach me when I was your age, reading me the opening lines of the Declaration of Independence and telling me about the men and women who marched for equality because they believed those words put to paper two centuries ago should mean something.

She helped me understand that America is great not because it is perfect but because it can always be made better-and that the unfinished work of perfecting our union falls to each of us. It's a charge we pass on to our children, coming closer with each new generation to what we know America should be.

I hope both of you will take up that work, righting the wrongs that you see and working to give others the chances you've had. Not just because you have an obligation to give something back to this country that has given our family so much-although you do have that obligation. But because you have an obligation to yourself. Because it is only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you will realize your true potential.

These are the things I want for you-to grow up in a world with no limits on your dreams and no achievements beyond your reach, and to grow into compassionate, committed women who will help build that world. And I want every child to have the same chances to learn and dream and grow and thrive that you girls have. That's why I've taken our family on this great adventure.

I am so proud of both of you. I love you more than you can ever know. And I am grateful every day for your patience, poise, grace, and humor as we prepare to start our new life together in the White House.

Love, Dad

Head of the Pig

I come from a long line of extraordinarily stubborn people. My grandfather was perhaps the pater familia in this department... the man had a quadruple bypass at the age of 60 and managed to live another 30 years, most likely out of sheer stubborness.

A recent example from my own life: I was so convinced that my husband had failed to get Tide detergent even after I had carefully printed it on the grocery list. He insisted it wasn't on the list. So, I went out to the big trash can in the garage and went through it bag by bag, piece of crap by piece of crap until I found the list. Just to prove to him that I had included it and he had failed to procure it anyway. It wasn't on the list.

As I've grown and matured a bit, I've become a bit more willing to admit when I'm wrong. Oh, it doesn't happen often; I am nothing if not overwhelmingly correct 99.9% of the time. But in the aforementioned incident, for example, I actually brought the grocery list into the house and admitted to my husband that I may have had a slight oversight. In the past, I would have stuffed it into the bottom of a banana peel and claimed I couldn't find it but was still secure in the knowledge that I was indeed correct. As always.

This pigheadedness was undoubtedly a contributing factor to the demise of some of my earlier relationships. That and my past predisposition to dating complete assholes.

Even though I've made vast improvements in this department, I still find it difficult to admit when I'm incorrect about something. My tongue tends to swell a little and become cottony. My mind has trouble seizing upon certain pertinent words (e.g. "I" and "was" and "wrong").

So, in the spirit of self-improvement...

I may have been a bit hasty in my previous judgement of the novel "Twilight". Oh, there is little doubt that the first 177 pages of the book are pure crap. But on page 178, Ms. Meyers seems to have wrested control of the keyboard from her 6-year-old and actually started to write the book using the English language and at least an 8th-grade writing level. The story has become intriguing, suspenseful, complex... I get it now. I get The Phenomenon now.

I admit this because I would hate to deprive someone from this reading experience simply because I might possibly have been a bit hasty in my judgment.

Let us never speak of this error again.

Now, I will continue my life of perfection. Thank you for reading.

Vampires, Shmampires

Dear Ms. Meyers,

I have given in to the hype and begun to read "Twilight", your sales-record-shattering novel that has millions of 14-year-old girls in knee-wobbling ecstatics. After all, there are several Young Adult series that I have enjoyed, namely: Harry Potter, Inkheart, Eragon. Therefore there is a likely probability that I will enjoy this series as well, right?

Stephenee (or however the weird you spell your first name), I must begin by giving you props for the story. You've chosen a nice setting for the hi jinks.... a gloomy, rainy town in the Pacific Northwest. I'm still working on how you chose the name, but suspect that you had just finished a pasta lunch when you started writing. You seem to have a nice story line working. The plot is pretty engrossing.

But, Stefanny, I have to inquire: Have you ever heard of ghostwriting? That's where you tell your story to someone who is actually capable of putting intelligible sentences together. It's created for people who really cannot write, such as movie stars, athletes, and fashion models. You may have picked up a book with the tell-tale "As Told by" notation... that's ghostwriting.

I bring this up, Stayfenny, because your writing "style" makes me want to gouge out my eyeballs with a cotton swab. I call it a "style" because it's nicer than saying that I cannot believe that you are a published author. I would love to meet your editor because I suspect that she has a deskful of empty red ink pens, after having bled over the Lockerbee crash that had to have been your original manuscript. If this is the final product, I can't imagine what you began with. 

Not only are the sentences ridiculously abrupt. But. You have also provided us with. The most paper-thin one-dimensional characters to ever grace a cheap trade paperback page. The only character study I could possibly wring from your protagonist is that she hates being referred to by her full name. And she is too stupid to recognize the vampire until more than halfway through the vampire book. Otherwise, she is so boring that I fervently wish she HAD been killed by that renegade van in the parking lot.

I am also convinced that you called upon Roget to find a synonym for nearly every word in that book. You say "sneered" when you clearly mean "whispered", "pleaded" instead of "questioned", and "The next day...." when we wish you would say "The end."

As I read this best seller, I try not to despair of the future of our youth. I think of the fantastically written books of my adolescence... A Separate Peace, A Wrinkle in Time... and cannot believe that America's teens are buying the sequel and the threequel of this sludge with abandon. Are they just so attuned to the abbreviated text messaging speak that any prose with all vowels intact is suddenly Faulkner?

Will I manage to finish this book of partially hydrogenated palm oil? Or will the shitty prose eventually distract me enough that I toss the book into the garbage disposal and scream "Die, Edward Cullen. Die!" as it is shredded into tiny shitty prose pieces?

Only the undead know. Whooooooooooooooooo. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Barf.

Love,

Minckle Mouse

Happy Now?

One of the best parts of my job is the great stories about customers that I get to collect. Please keep in mind that, in general, I work with business owners, CIOs, CFOs, and CEOs. But I have quickly learned that the title on your business card does not guarantee that you will be either intelligent or professional.

This was only my second day back at work and I already had a great one... a customer complained to one of my reps that he had left me several voicemails during my maternity leave and had not heard back from me. He pretty much implied that our deal had fallen through because I had been unresponsive.

I seriously never got any of these voicemails, nor do I remember seeing him on my Missed Call list, but I am a new mom and sleep deprivation does things to the brain.

So upon hearing this, I immediately thought, "Uh oh. I wonder what happened. I should investigate. I work for a cell company so I have the tools to fix this if needed. What if other customers had this experience?" 

Of course, another part of me thought, "Seriously, dude? You called me, listened to my voicemail which clearly stated that I was on maternity leave until January 5th and left me a message anyway?" But, I chose to listen to the angel on my left shoulder in the Tahari suit and send him an email. 

(A side note here... I went out on leave when I was 7 months pregnant. Obviously, I thought I had a good two more months of work left to go, but when the doctor says "emergency inducement to save the life of the child", you don't ask for a few days to answer some emails. Sadly, there were several customers that, even upon hearing why I had left suddenly, were completely ticked off that I had abandoned them. Phrases like "left me high and dry" and "that's no excuse" were used. To say that I will never again go above and beyond to help these assholes is an understatement.)

In my email I began by apologizing that he had not been able to reach me and that I was concerned that I may have missed other calls. Could he tell me what number he had called? Had he reached my voice mail when he called?

He replied, "Yes. Called several times, did receive your voicemail and left multiple messages."

Now this doesn't answer my first, most important question... I do have both a desk and cellular phone with separate voicemail systems... but it did raise a new concern. My voicemail left the phone number of my assistant, urging folks to contact her for assistance. Had she been unresponsive to him? She was generally reliable, but everyone is apt to drop a ball every so often. 

So, in my next email I asked: Since he did receive my voicemail, was he able to reach my assistant through the number I left on the outgoing message? I would hate to think that he'd had an immediate need and he had been completely ignored. 

He replied: "Sorry I made everything up happy now?"

I am transcribing the punctuation verbatim so that you can fully appreciate the effect here.

Dear reader, I ask you for your opinion... Is the guy genuinely bugged by my inquiry and thus being a sarcastic jerk? Or is he pissed off that his lies couldn't withstand my innocent line of questioning and therefore is going to cop to his own bullshit?

Please leave your opinion at the tone. I'll be sure and deny later that I ever received it.

Back in the Euphemistic Saddle Again

Ladies and Gentleman.

I am writing to you from the belly of the beast.

I am. Back. At work.

And how was leaving the house this morning, you inquire?

I'm proud to report that I did not burst into tears in front of the nanny. Nope, not me. I totally waited until I was in the car to eradicate my mascara. Then I sobbed all the way to work.

But once I was back at my desk, with my 73 software updates completely hosing up my laptop, I started to feel as giddy as a school girl. 

I'm back! I'm back! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!

Now. Who the fuck took my stapler?