Thursday, December 18, 2003
Dear Paris Hilton...
Iâ€™ve never written to you before â€“ but since Christmas is coming - I better get this letter in soon so that it can get to you in time. I hope Iâ€™m not too late, but even if this doesnâ€™t, I know that somehow, somebody will read this and put it into your hands. First, I just wanted to tell you that I think that your new show is great. I donâ€™t even watch TV shows on a regular basis. I didnâ€™t even see that second part of the new Battlestar Galactica thing that I thought was pretty good. Itâ€™s hard for me to remember to change my pants. Let alone set up a schedule for TV programs â€“ but I have for you, Paris. Oh god(s), yes, I have. I have watched every single episode of your TV show. I havenâ€™t done that since Saturday morning cartoons used to be sort of okay. I think right about when Batman Beyond and Freakazoid left â€“ that was the final nail in the coffin. I was holding on for a long time, Paris â€“ but the networks ruined it. I wish that your daddy was the king of cartoons instead of the king of hotels â€“ that would make me want to meet you even more.
Paris, donâ€™t listen to everybody else. Block them out. Youâ€™re great. Serious. I think you and me should hang out. If you ever came over to where I lived, Iâ€™d show you a good time. I donâ€™t like to golf, so youâ€™re safe â€“ but I do like comic books. I donâ€™t talk about them much in public because nobody else likes them anyway, and I learned early on not to talk too much about totally geeky stuff because that wonâ€™t get you laid. Talk about books and poetry and pain and paper cuts. That makes you mysterious. The chicks eat it up. Talk about poets and small kitties. I donâ€™t like sewing. I donâ€™t like football. Hey, isnâ€™t it funny, I just grabbed a couple of comic books to read while I smoked in the backyard and I thought that it wouldnâ€™t be enough, but I only got through the first couple of pages of the Robin comic before I started getting distracted, and by that time my cigarette was over. Funny, huh? Hee haw, said the chuckalicious donkey.
Paris, donâ€™t listen to me. Everything that you just read was crap. I think your show is the best show that Iâ€™ve ever seen because it strikes me funny and sad on a million different levels, I feel like a tool for watching it â€“ itâ€™s just like The Iraq War Coverage. Tool. Home Depot. Thatâ€™s what weâ€™ve become. So, now that itâ€™s late â€“ Iâ€™ve turned it off, but itâ€™s too late to â€œkick up the jamsâ€� because my gal needs her sleep for more finals tomorrow, so Iâ€™ll be the cucumber. Refrigerated cool. Hoth cool. Like a Wampa meal. Iâ€™m gonna listen to The Capricorns, NIN, Sonic Youth, The Beach Boys, and Atari Teenage Riot at a respectable volume. Iâ€™ll keep it down to a dull roar. All praise Aslan.
Paris, listenâ€¦youâ€™re super hot in that waify, model way. Just like I am. People like brooms. Weâ€™re usefulâ€¦and kind of cute if you use us enough. Paris, itâ€™s okay if you canâ€™t hold a job and donâ€™t understand the concept of money. I canâ€™t. Nobody can. Itâ€™s all relative. I wonâ€™t clean my room for you, though. Deal with it. Iâ€™ve got other stuff to do. Oh, and please remind me that I have to make sure to collect my seventy bucks for writing for that Aerospace company and collect the fifty bucks for the real estate newsletter that I turned in on Monday. Thatâ€™ll help later on in the month when Iâ€™m trying to come up with rent. I have to get a move on and also do a considerable amount of work on that cartoony scripty thing because that guyâ€™s waiting for it and he said that the end of January would be fine. That gives me about a month to complete seven episodic scripts, running at about 23 minutes longâ€¦thatâ€™s more then a feature length film. Balance this with working, writing on Fat Free Milk, fighting off rats, friends and comic book reading, and Iâ€™m pooped. Oh, and by the way, Paris â€“ can you believe that Marvel Comics is still going through all of their submitted material? Wow, I was, like one of the first people to catch that they were accepting new writer submissions. Six months. They saidâ€¦that wasâ€¦likeâ€¦six months ago, I thinkâ€¦
Oh. And hey, Paris? Iâ€™d like to come for a visit. I can party like a rock star and wonâ€™t embarrass you. Iâ€™d fit in. I wouldnâ€™t hang all over you or anything, and I like to dance. If you want to go make out with somebody else on the dance floor â€“ Iâ€™d be cool with that because, I have a girlfriend and all. Iâ€™ll just talk to the cocktail lady about Fatfreemilk and about comic books. I can ask her questions about drinks, cuzâ€™ the more that I know â€“ the better Iâ€™ll be. Actually, like I could give a ratâ€™s ass. Iâ€™m a pretty damn good bartender. You should stop by. Just donâ€™t bring your friend, Nichole/Nicole. She seems okay, a little smarter than you â€“ but unless sheâ€™s gonna sing some of her fatherâ€™s songs - than I donâ€™t care.
Christmas is almost here, Ms. Paris Hiltonâ€¦what are you wishing for this year? Me? Really? Awwwâ€¦honey, thatâ€™s so nice of you to sayâ€¦but we wouldnâ€™t last. I have my crazy-ass moments, but Iâ€™m getting old. Iâ€™ll out-drink and out-fight you one half of the week â€“ but the other half, I need quiet. I need to write The Great American Novel. I need to conjure up a new generationâ€™s-worth of Holdens. This type of crap takes time. This is anti-social stuff. Just ask Salinger. Ask The Dust, said John Fante. Iâ€™m totally okay with you going off and doing whatever you want â€“ just remember thatâ€¦Iâ€™m always invitedâ€¦
For Christmas this year, I wantâ€¦
A bow and arrow set.
A big barrel of toothpicks and glue. Serious. When I was in first grade, we did a project like this and we were all encouraged to build as big of a tower as we wanted. I loved it, and have wanted to do it again ever since â€“ but toothpicks are too expensive and I donâ€™t understand how we got to have so many, but this was the eighties and everything was different then anyway.
More comic books â€“ but only the good shite. Anything Spiderman is fine with me.
A Cuisinart thing to help me cook.
Porno by Irvine Welsh.
A New Laptop so that I can write this drivel from bars.
One of those huge carpeted tower things for my kitties to sleep in, but then terrorists might knock emâ€™ down â€“ so fogetit.
A travel ticket to New Zealand, Amsterdam, Japan, Australia, Alta Loma, Cincinnati, Austin, Narnia, Naboo, Krynn, and Enderâ€™s Battle Schoolâ€¦
Thank you, Paris.
I love you.