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Hey, blogger Sascha Elise Cohen! I’ve just read your satirical op-ed for the Huffington Post asking Arizona Governor Janet Napolitano to be your “Valentine.” My favorite part is where you do away with clever jokes crafted from legitimate criticisms to make fun of how you think she looks like a dyke. ha, ha, oh, you bright rising star of homophobic satire!

I, too, enjoy indiscriminately copying a phrase from a public figure’s Web site, arbitrarily deciding I disagree with it, and burying my nonsensical criticism in 400 words of jokes about the figure’s perceived sexual orientation. Upon further inspection, though, I think your little lesbian Mad Lib could be a bit more to the point, no? After the jump, I’ve edited your hilarious homophobic euphemisms to help you say what you really mean.

You’re a little old for me, Secretary of Homeland Security Elect, but boy are you tough a lesbian. According to Wikipedia, you’re “an avid basketball fan who regularly plays tennisa lesbian! That’s so cute! Now, Napolitano, to be honest, we couldn’t be more different. I’m not the athletic type butch, I get sports terms all mixed up, and I haven’t worked up an impressive heart rate since the last millennium.

That is, until I saw your photo!!!

How did such a handsome woman lesbian manage to stay single for so long? And why is your last name so much fun to say?

But enough fawning, let’s be serious for a moment. I love how, as Governor Napolitano of Arizona, you’ve taken extensive measures to create fiscal responsibility and to end bureaucratic waste. Maybe you could teach my own faltering state Governor, Mr. Arnold Schwarzenegger, a thing or two. For instance, yesterday I had to take a dilapidated public bus full of garbage and pathogenic microbes to stand in a three hour line for an unemployment check. I brought a library book, but two thirds of the pages were missing and the remaining third made references to the Soviet Union. [incomprehensible screed about California]. Bet that wouldn’t happen on your watch! I sure wish you could ride in on a horse like Prince Charming a lesbian and save us. Then I’d hop on sidesaddle and we’d gallop off into the smoggy horizon, my hair limp and greasy from unregulated toxic emissions lesbianism.

But things get even more romantic gayer from there. We could eat spaghetti and discuss fortifying the nation’s borders. I’d giggle nervously at the sight of your sturdy posture and resolute facial expressions lesbianism. We could make a real night of it; I’ve already invited Maddow, Samantha Ronson, and Condi several notable lesbians. Actually, Sam might not follow all the political jargon, but she could sit there chain smoking and looking exhausted gay. As for you, do me one favor: skip all the makeup and just show up in a swoon-worthy blazer or polo shirt with a rakishly aggressive collar some gay shit.

Love, Sascha a “humorist.”