Dalton’s letter to The National Archives

The National Archives

700 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW

Washington, DC 20408

Attention: Whoever is figuring out this classified documents fiasco 

 

Dear Sirs/Madams (and all other pronouns):

 

My somewhat elderly, but still quite spry Aunt Toogie, has been closely following the saga of government documents turning up hither and yon. She has been badgering me to accompany her on an exploration (her words were “classified document treasure hunt”) of our attic to see if, God forbid, we had any of these aforesaid records. Since there were no NFL games this past weekend, Toogie and I completed our stem-to-stern search. In addition to cobwebs and what might be mouse droppings (sheesh), we found the items described below.

Toogie insists I report this to you ASAP so that “her hands are clean if the Feds come calling later.”

 

There were a lot of personal items which I suspect many people may stash in their attic. My high school yearbook – how did I get my hair to stand up straight back then and why were the guys’ ties so narrow? My lovely wife, Grace, looks much better in her high school yearbook – homecoming queen and all – but she has always been the better looking of our pair, by far. There were some old newspapers, like the sports page about the Cleveland Browns last NFL Championship – in 1964. Pretty faded, a little like the Browns today. Some 45 rpm records, still with the plastic disc inserts but no record player. A stack of Bed Bath & Beyond coupons – all expired, although Toogie says they take them anyway, but we better hurry. The snow shovel from our Ohio move. A cigar box full of old, unlabeled family photos.

Not sure who all these people are, and the vintage cars have running boards. And our tax returns going back, well, quite a few years. Grace has encouraged me, more than once, to throw out the oldest ones. But if one of the new 87,000 IRS agents wants to snoop around in these returns from the last millennium, I’ll be prepared.

 

But we also found a suitcase with some rather official-looking markings and stickers on it. I have no idea where it came from or how it got in our attic. I suggested we turn it in unopened. Toogie, however, insisted we open and explore it, saying not to do so would be like

Howard Carter not opening King Tut’s tomb after his amazing discovery. Toogie dived in and I played scribe. I may have missed a few items – Toogie was rapidly moving through the suitcase – but I think the following is close enough for government work, as they say. 

 

Here is what we (actually, Toogie if that becomes legally important later) found:

 

A map exactly pinpointing where Jimmy Hoffa is buried. An owner’s manual for a 1967 Corvette Stingray. Copy of a June 23, 1876, telegraph from General George Custer reporting no need for additional troops. Barack Obama’s birth certificate. Colonel Harland Sanders’ original Kentucky Fried Chicken recipe. A Consumer Product Safety Commission report listing the location of all gas stoves on Daniel Island. A Revolutionary War document that concludes Benedict Arnold was framed. An envelope marked “Hillary Clinton emails – open at your own risk.” We did not open it and used hand sanitizer to wipe the thing clean. While it’s written in French, possibly, the deed and closing statement from the Louisiana Purchase. Trump’s tax returns for the past 25 years with a note, “these are the real ones.” Photos of flying saucers at Area 51. A list of the buyers of Hunter Biden artwork. A Betamax tape identified as “FAA Operating System.” And a metal box, with two keys, which may have something to do with farming since the box lid says, “Launch Codes for Western Silos.” Toogie took this box for her costume jewelry, but everything else is back in the suitcase.

 

Anyhoo, if you guys want any of this stuff, give me a shout out. I put my contact information on the enclosed post-it note. If we don’t hear back from you in a couple months (I know you are busy with the big guys now), I’ll probably take the suitcase to Goodwill. Grace usually gets us in full spring-cleaning mode come April.

 

Yours truly, 

Dalton Williams