If Animal Farm Critiqued Other Stuff

Shortly before the end of WWII, Hitler sent a last ditch telegram to the President of Mexico asking him to join the Nazi cause. Here is the transcription of the message:
¡Hola! It’s been a while, huh? Feels like just yesterday we were hanging out on your awesome yacht with all the other presidents. Work has been muy busy (I’m sure you’ve heard about the war), and I have a quick favor to ask. But first, there’s something I have to get off my
chest.
Remember that time we were sailing by Palermo? You probably know what I’m about to say (eek!), but I asked you to get me a beer,
and then I pantsed you as soon as you got up. Well, I just wanted to say sorry about that. Not cool, like, at all.
It was a huge breach of trust that the guys and I got to see you in your tighty-whities, and when you tripped over your pants while trying to walk away, I shouldn’t have started pouring drinks on you to make it look like you peed your
pants. That’s just not the type of guy I am, despite what you may have heard in the news recently.
Which brings me to my next point: remember afterwards when we all called you ‘tighty-whity Tim’ for the rest of the trip? Obviously we know your name isn’t Tim. And when you asked us not to call you Tim, and I said “Sorry...” then paused for a while before going “...Tim,” it wasn’t funny at all. No wonder you kicked us off your boat after two weeks of that nonsense.
Basically, thanks for taking it all on the chin. It takes a big man to deal with stuff like that, and I think it goes to show how much of a trooper you are. Plus, don’t tell anyone I said this, but the only reason I joke around with you is because you’re the guy I feel most comfortable with. So, when I ask this, I really mean it from the bottom of my heart: can you please invade the US? They’re really fucking us
over in Germany right now, and if you don’t, I’ll probably kill myself. Thanks man, you’re the best.
Your pal, Hitler

Shortly before the end of WWII, Hitler sent a last ditch telegram to the President of Mexico asking him to join the Nazi cause...

WWII Telegram

DEREK: Hey, it’s Derek from I.T. It’s my job to oversee your search history, and I noticed you’ve spent the past few hours looking at ropes and night vision goggles. I just wanted to let you know that if you’re planning a heist, I’m in.
DEREK: BTW—I’m a pretty good driver and a tech wiz (duh). I’d be happy to fill either of those positions in your crew, but I’m open to other stuff too. Just lmk what we’re heisting.
DEREK: Noticed you didn’t get back to my past few emails—a solo heist type of guy, I see. I totally get it, no need to respond. And from one heister to another: Good luck.
DEREK: Did you see Jackson’s new cut? Sorry, just trying to make some friendly banter.
DEREK: Just saw you look up walkie-talkies. Not trying to jump to conclusions here, but that makes me think you’re planning a group heist and excluding me on purpose. Like I said, I’m a pretty good getaway driver.
DEREK: “How to block people from viewing my search history.” Ha ha. It’s this kind of friendly banter that shows me how much fun we’ll have when we heist together.
DEREK: Very funny, but it’s kind of been played out now. Can you turn your search history back on?
ALEX: Hi, Derek.
Seven emails in ten minutes is a bit much, don’t you think? I don’t appreciate your belligerence or your assumption that I am planning a heist. Not that it is any of your business, but the gear is for a camping trip this weekend with my family. And as manager of the HR department, it is now my responsibility to report you for this ridiculous insubordination.
Listen Derek, ignore that last paragraph. They never read more than a paragraph, Derek—remember that. They’ve been hunting us for years now, there’s not many of us left, but you! I can tell you have an eye for the heist! My crew needs a getaway driver, and if you’re as good as you say, you’re the guy for the job. Meet me at 64°09’40.7”S 62°21’13.0”W tomorrow at 5:00AM and we’ll talk.
P.S. Just saw Jackson’s new hair. Genuinely trying not to laugh.

Hey, it’s Derek from I.T. It’s my job to oversee your search history, and I noticed you’ve spent the past few hours looking at ropes and night vision goggles. I just wanted to let you know that if you’re planning a heist, I’m in...

Emails From The I.T. Guy

Hey Bruce, how’d you sleep? I hope it was good, because we have a lot to discuss now that you’re awake. Remember Jibbly from our wedding? He was the guy hanging out in the corner who all of a sudden made a huge appearance on the dance floor. We were mad he showed up uninvited, but it turned out he seriously knew how to bust some moves, remember? Well, Jibbly and I are married now.
I know this must be hard for you to hear, but ever since the crash, Jibbly has been a shoulder to cry on. When he found out you were in a coma, he mailed me a VCR documentary of him learning how to dance as a youngster—boy did that cheer me up. Apparently his spine was surgically removed when he was 4, which is why his flow is smooth like butter. I know your spine is melted now too, but Jibbly and I are in love, Bruce.
These days, whenever I’m sad, Jibbly just hits the splits and starts spinning on his head. And unlike you, he doesn’t care about money—Jibbly only deals in two currencies, breakdance and USD. Speaking of money, since we’ve been apart, you’ve been paying child support on all of my and Jibbly’s kids, of which we have 17. He’s very potent for a 100-year-old, and your bank account has effectively been drained to zero. Here, have a fruit cup.
Come on Bruce, no need to tug on your life support—Jibbly and I are doing better than ever. Last week he was on Dancing With the Stars, and the judges immediately wired us the prize money after seeing Jibbly hit the frothy slide. He really frothed it up in there. A few people in the audience had heart attacks, and doctors are yet to figure out if it was because they were jealous of my having such a handsome husband, or because they were jealous of Jibbly’s elongated physique. Either way, the show received 5x viewership because of Jibbly, and he just signed to be one of their judges next season.
So, I hope that clears things up. I know waking up from a coma can feel strange, but when you look in the mirror you’ll feel like the exact same man, just with one fewer wife. You may also see a mustache drawn on your face in Sharpie. That was Jibbly. Isn’t he great? I never came to visit, but Jibbly was here all the time to make sure you were doing alright. He sees you as a friend.

Hey Bruce, how’d you sleep? I hope it was good, because we have a lot to discuss now that you’re awake. Remember Jibbly from our wedding...

Alex Eckford.css-1xlpnei{margin:0px -15px 0px 6px;width:11px;vertical-align:-14px;}

Alex Eckford