Open Letters | Page 20 | Points in Case

Tag: Open Letters

Please, please, please, Movie Gods, if you're out there, please let me come to a theater near you. It's all I've wanted since I was a wee script.

Dear Statue, I believe unequivocally that you and I now share some cosmic bond after we locked eyes during Del Toro's acceptance speech.

I applaud you, as you were comfortable, people complimented you, and you made me appear like I had my shit together, which I did not.

Now you know, you can't just sweep your problems under the rug and hope I don't build them up into metaphors for my failures as a parent.

I thought long and hard about what kind of birthday message to send you. Then I waited for what seemed like decades to receive your reply.

What is it that makes your group so intractable, yet everybody wants to talk about you? Why is it so hard to figure out how old you people are?

All I ever wanted was to be the fourth son of Mike Brady on that killer 1970's TV show, The Brady Bunch. Instead, my life veered off course.

It is with heavy heart that I, Robby Schwartz, wish to announce that I am no longer a punk rocker. I am now a skater; please accept my decision.

The Next Great American Novel won’t be written by a 27-year-old with clear braces and a Deathly Hallows tattoo.

No matter how nicely he asks, Vincent the Vagrant is NOT permitted to bunk with you in your hotel room. He is only looking for loose dice.

Regarding your autobiography, "The Real Mr. T: I Pity the Fool Who Wears Gold-Plated," this was a hard one for us, but regrettably, we have to pass.

Remember, confusion is at the heart of everything we do here - we call it the Confusion Paradigm©. Without it, we are nothing.