Letters to Celebrities Part 1

Dear Gordon Ramsay:

Screaming and yelling and throwing shit at the people you have authority over does not make you cool, or a badass.  It makes you a trigger-happy retard, using your power over people to push them around. The cooks under you seem to be trying their hardest, and hey, it’s not like you ever do much of anything.  You’re an elementary-school bully who never grew up.  Please get yourself some professional help.

Dear Paris Hilton:

You make too easy a target. You are the good year blimp of targets for my wrath.  Please clean yourself up, so I can make fun of you.

Dear Nicole Ritchie/Lindsay Lohan/Miley Cyrus/Jamie Lynn Spears:

I know, being a stupid spoiled whore is the “in” thing right now, but please, take a look to the future. You are the Britney Spears’s of the next ten years; you will become fat, and probably crazy. The media will follow you everywhere, and your life will become complete shit.  You’ll never change, though, so this is pretty much wasted effort.  Just stay away from me and any kids I may have, and we won’t have a problem.

Dear Paula Abdul:

I don’t know what to make of you.  I don’t see enough of you to make that call, quite frankly.  You defied all odds and stayed in the public eye by lucking into a gig on a popular show, and I commend you for that.  You keep your place on the show by providing a balance to the other two judges, and occasionally having a breakdown, throwing a fit, or simply being hilariously confusing.  I think you’ve got us all fooled, and this is a successful scheme to stay popular. Well done, and I hope you have another breakdown on camera real soon.

Dear David Beckham:

You’re kind of useless, aren’t you?  What is it you DO, exactly?  Ask most people, and they’ll say you’re a soccer star, but I have several problems with that.  First of all, soccer is awful.  Only England and Mexico think it’s anything but a sport for effeminate men, and being a star at it is not something to be proud of.  Second, I don’t believe you’re actually any good at it.  You simply look good, and that’s why people like you. Somehow, you got paired up with a plastic woman, and I do feel sorry for you on that point. Please take a page from the book of Jolie, and find someone who matches you a bit better.  You need to have good looking daughters that I can ogle in 18 years.

Dear Angelina Jolie:

As much as it pains me to say this, you are out of my league.  You are, in fact, out of everyone’s league. The only person who comes close to being a good match for you, is the person you’re currently having what I can only assume are incredible relations with. Congratulations on finding someone who suits you; most of us never will.

Dear Madonna:

You make me sick.  You refuse to give up, and keep putting out albums that a grand total of nobody listens to.  Your acting is atrocious, and you married a French man, with whom you’ve had hairy, smelly children.  Please take the fake British accent a step further; move to England and never come back. We’re stuck with David Beckham, England should be stuck with you.

 
Home