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Friday, January 25, 2008

An Open Letter to Britney Spears

Dear Fruitcake,

I understand that things have been tough for you lately. But there comes a time when you have to acknowledge that you're spelunking through uncharted territory in the Caves of Insanity, and the light on your helmet has gone out, and you’re left dangling in complete darkness at the end of a rope attached to a tree half a mile above you. And now you can hear the bats beginning to stir.

Personally I've never been a fan of yours, but it's undeniable that just a few short years ago you were on top of the world. What happened? Did it start when you married that loser who shocked us all and turned out to be more stable than you? (Even though he can never be forgiven for attempting a recording career of his own. Popozao indeed.) You've become a hulking, trailer park adjacent, looks-like-she-smells-of-wet-dog-and-vodka, rehab failing, car crashing, bad wig-sporting mockery of yourself.

Between the head shaving, underpantslessness (look, I created a word), paparazzi dating, substance abuse, and hysterical freakouts, among other things, I just have two words for you: reality show. Yeah, I know you already had a reality show, but somehow I think you’d be so much more watchable now that you’re really crazy and not just a run-of-the-mill drunken moron. And due to the writers’ strike, I’m sure you could get a really good deal with the networks right now.

In conclusion: put on some underpants and get your barking mad self over to one of the television networks (Fox seems like a safe bet) and sell your crazy. Your kids may need the money later for therapy.

Sincerely,
Pie

Categories: silliness, letters

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Thursday, October 18, 2007

Rejected Penthouse Forum Letter

Dear Penthouse Forum,

I've never written a letter like this, but after what happened to me this afternoon, I couldn't wait to pick up my pen and write it down to share it with your readers.

I was out doing my regular Sunday afternoon errands (taking the cat for a walk, picking up a few things from the supermarket, getting my prescription foot fungus cream from the pharmacy), when I saw the most beautiful woman getting out of a car in the bank parking lot.

Well, it wasn't my bank, but I just couldn't resist. I locked the cat in the trunk and went into the bank. There she was, a vision of sensual beauty, standing at the counter and filling in a deposit slip. She had shiny blonde hair cut in a very smart, professional style, black patent leather stiletto heels, and the sexiest business suit I'd ever seen. I sidled up next to her and began to fill out my own deposit slip.

After she got in line, I followed and stood behind her. Unfortunately, as she went up to the counter, the next teller became available, and I was forced to go to a window much further down the counter. I kept my eye on this unbelievably sexy woman, sure that the little flashes of thigh she displayed as she dangled her shoe off her toe were for my benefit.

I handed my deposit slip to the teller, completely oblivious that she was quite interested in me herself. I looked away from the dreamboat down the counter and noticed my teller looking around desperately, obviously unsure what to do to attract my attention. Well, let me tell you, she was even sexier than the woman I'd followed into the bank. Brunette, glasses, naughty low-cut red silk blouse. I winked at her, and leaned against the counter, and asked her what time she got off work.

She stuttered a little, no doubt aroused in anticipation of the passionate evening we could have together. The sexual tension between us was electric. She handed me the canvas bag full of banded twenties and fifties I'd requested on the back of the deposit slip, and her hand lingered on mine a little longer than necessary. The signs were clear. She wanted me as much as I wanted her. I gave her my card, and licked my lips at her lasciviously. Then I grinned and walked out.

When I heard a knock at the door later, I was sure it was her, but alas it was just the police. I expect to be out by tomorrow afternoon, and I just know she'll want to meet me for some hot, erotic lovemaking. I can't wait!

Lustfully,
Bertie

Categories: silliness, letters

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