I publish this letter not to shock, not to punish, and certainly not for the humor.
 I publish this to remind the scumbag hypocrites that everybody has things
 they'd rather not have discussed in public - so what were you thinking?

 But after what you disgusting bastards did to Clinton,
 you deserve this and a whole lot more.

 Hi Cutie--

          I've been ruminating about what you said on the telephone yesterday--that
  I'm insecure.  If you mean that I'm insecure about you and me, of course you're right.
  I do feel insecure--although in the grand scheme of things my feelings signify less
  about me (or you) than they do about external circumstances.  We live on opposite
  coasts; we're both busy, and we don't know each other very well.  I'd have to be
  daft not to feel insecure; I've not done anything to earn security.  There are a lot of
  women out there who can spend one night a month with you and do a little sightseeing
  just as well as I can.  Some even better ....  (I would give you their phone numbers,
  but I'm not yet convinced that it's in my interest.)

  Whoa!
  What kind of values do these Christian women have?
  They share sex partners like you and I might share a cab?

          I'm amused by your statement that you *do* know me.  It's the journalist in you.
  You are paid to make quick judgments about people and situations, drawing mostly on
  the public record.  It's your job to have the first word on a topic, and you're very good at it.

          As an academic, I'm paid to have the last word on a subject.  It makes me
  slower to form opinions about people and things.  Academics are ruminant creatures.

          My fear is that I will remain insecure about us.  We see each other so seldom that we
  may never really get a sense of each other.  If true, it will be a shame. It's possible that we'd
  make a good pair, maybe even a great pair.  I am not inclined to turn loose of you until that
  possibility has been explored.  On the other hand, I'd prefer not to die of old age still wondering.

          So allow me to introduce myself.  I am _____,  the woman whose hotel room
  you've found yourself in a few times over the last six weeks.
 

Hmmm,...is that what a good Christian would do?
Let John the woman-beater ravage Christ's temple in some hotel room?
Holy Mother of Pearl, what would Doctor Laura say?
ha ha
I'll bet the Mystery Woman wishes I didn't have this letter - or the pictures.
 

          First, for whatever reason, you get to me.  There aren't that many men who do ....

        ha ha

......
       I get to her.
 

          My four best qualities are that I'm smart, brave, true and industrious.
  There are many things I'm insecure about; these are not among them.

                  Smart--Yes, there are smarter women in the world, but the objective indicators
  suggest that they are pretty darn rare, even in the rarified circles in which you travel.
  If you decide to dump me because I'm not smart enough for you, you'd better be
  prepared for a long period of celibacy.

  ha ha
 Make her stop!
 

                  Brave--This is actually an illusion.  I'm not brave at all; I'm really just dutiful,
 but that's usually the case with people who are called brave.  I'd have make a good
 Army Ranger if I weren't such a klutz.

                  True--Well, Diogenes, you were the one who said you wanted an honest woman.
  Be careful what you wish for.  Honest women can be too blunt sometimes.  They don't always
  say things the way they intended.  And they require honesty in return.  It's not a universal taste.

                  Industrious--Nobody works harder than I do.  A lot of people are more efficient.
   I wish I understood why.

          My worst qualities (among those I'm aware of) are that I'm impatient, disorganized and
  slovenly about the office.
 

 Uh, ...one thing? You might include "wears fuzzy shoes while posing in bed,"
 when listing your les-than desirable qualities. Yeah, I got the pictures. (snicker)
 

                  Impatient--I would explain this in greater detail, but I simply lack the patience.
  It manifests itself most often around idiots and bureaucrats.  So far, I've never gotten violent,
  but I suppose there's always a first time ....

                  Disorganized--I can only do one thing at a time.  When I get really interested in
  something, I forget to eat, sleep or attend to the ordinary duties of modern existence.
  Not everyone is amused.

                  Slovenly--My desk is a mess.  I worry about this with you.  I know that ethnic stereotypes
  are a terrible, terrible thing, but you were reared by a German mother.  If she's trained you to be like
  her countrymen, you won't like my desk. Curiously, my house is not messy (except the refrigerator).
  There are two reasons for this.  First, I take a lot of care in decorating and I don't want it all to go to waste.
  Second, our country's immigration policies allow me to hire household help cheaply.

 What?
 Are we breaking the immigration and labor laws?
 Do we have another Linda Chavez on our hands?
 Are we paying Social Security taxes on our domestic help, Mystery Woman?
 

                  I'm sure I have other bad qualities, which you will figure out if you hang around
  long enough.  I'm not sure if it signifies anything, but those who have been around me longest
  tend to like me best.  I'm not sure if it's because I grow on people or because those that
  figure me out do so early and flee for their lives

                 This is getting too long.  I'm going out to forage for food.  It's your turn.