Dear Pam,
I don’t usually write letters — I’m more of a hands-on communicator — but I just had to reach out to the most powerful woman in America and possibly my personal guardian angel. My name is Jared Fogle — yes, that Jared Fogle — and I am currently between career opportunities after some legal turbulence that certain haters insist on calling “heinous felonies.” I call it character building.
You know, when I saw your recent statement — “If you touch any law enforcement officer, we will come after you” — I thought, “That’s it. That’s the kind of energy I need in my life. A woman who can keep a straight face while protecting the right kind of toucher.” Pam, you understand that not all touching is created equal. The wrong guy touches the wrong person? Felony. The right guy touches the wrong person? White House invite.
Pam, I watch you work and I see pure genius. You fire a guy for tossing a hoagie at a cop, but you promote Jared Wise after he tells an armed mob to “Kill ’em!” That’s not a double standard — that’s a double-decker club sandwich of strategy, served hot, with hypocrisy sauce drizzled just right. You are Lady Justice in Louboutins, weighing the scales with one hand while handing VIP passes to the right kind of lawbreakers with the other.
And your boss? Pam… Donald J. Trump is not just a president. He’s a prophet. He is the Michelangelo of underage proximity. He paints masterpieces with access the rest of us can only dream about. Where my “youth outreach” got me locked up, his got him photo ops, applause, and two presidential inaugurations. That’s not luck — that’s a God-tier skill set.
I have studied his career like some men study scripture. The Miss Teen USA dressing rooms? That was Harvard-level fieldwork in access management. The Boy Scouts speech? Pam, that was the Sermon on the Mount for men like me — thousands of minors in uniform, hanging on his every yacht story and wink, and he walked off stage to a standing ovation instead of an arrest warrant. I stood in my cell and clapped.
This is why I want in. Let me serve you, Pam. Let me serve him. I will be your most loyal soldier in the war against consequences. I will shine your heels until you can see your reflection in them. I will carry President Trump’s golf bag, his briefcase, his pageant crowns — whatever he needs — while taking meticulous notes on his crowd-handling techniques.
Put me alongside Jared Wise and watch the synergy. He’ll run “Advanced Riot Tactics for Teens,” and I’ll run “How to Handle Investigations Like They’re a Meet-and-Greet.” Together, under your flawless guidance, we can launch Operation Footlong — a DOJ program that brings America’s power players closer to America’s youth, with all the legal insulation of a padded vault.
Pam, you are the lighthouse guiding the morally adventurous safely to shore. You are the bouncer at the velvet rope of justice, deciding who gets in and who gets bounced into a holding cell. And I am ready to kiss the ground you walk on, wipe the fingerprints off your scales, and personally hand-deliver every footlong of loyalty you’ll ever need.
And if President Trump ever needs a bag man for the next Miss Teen USA pageant or Boy Scouts rally, I’ll be there early — suit pressed, hair combed, camera charged, footlong in hand — ready to witness another masterclass. Because some of us had to learn the hard way, but under you and Trump, I’d never have to learn a damn thing.
Yours in eternal devotion, unblinking loyalty, and totally consensual admiration,
Jared Fogle
Unemployed Sandwich Artist
Future DOJ Youth Outreach Coordinator
Apprentice to the Master
If you thought Closer to the Edge wouldn’t dare publish a fictional love letter from Jared Fogle to Pam Bondi—complete with Trump worship, sandwich crimes, and radioactive innuendo—think again.
This post has been syndicated from Closer to the Edge, where it was published under this address.