The greatest thinker of our time, maybe all time.

"Dearest Margaret.

I pray this missive finds you well.

I am writing this letter with what is left of my fingers. I have lost the tips to frostbite. This is my fourth attempt at writing you this day, as the other papers were too besmeared with my sanguine fluids, but the doctor has changed my bandages and tells me that the flow is under control.

Do not weep for me. The many sacrifices I have made for this war have all been for the greater good. I still have my right eye and my left testicle, and I would give a hundred finger tips if it meant stopping the scourge of the uppity Negro.

Divine Providence from our most merciful Lord of Lords has ordained that this Universe belongs to his most noble creation, the White Man, and I must do all in my power to see that it remains so. For how else am I to lay claim to the vast treasures in the eternal beyond if I am not doing the work He has put me here to perform?

There is so much to be done that at times it all feels too be too much, but surely, will eventually claim victory. We are on right side of history, as time will inevitably prove.

Give my love to the children which have yet survived this misfortunate pestilence of a flu season, and my genuine prayers for those who have not.

As always I remain
Your servant,

*name smudged with blood*"