An Open Letter to Prince: Advice You Must Take Before You Drop Dead

Michael Jackson is dead. Now about 750,000 fans who spent roughly 85 million dollars for tickets to his "This Is It Tour" have refunds in their hands, grief in their hearts and no freak to see.

Prince, you must take advantage of their grief. You can be the replacement freak for all those Wacko Jacko admirers, and all that money could be yours if you do the “See Me before I Drop Dead Tour.” (You could do this tour every year until you finally drop dead.)

Sure, Wacko Jacko fans are lunatics, but does it matter? It is not like you particularly care about your fanbase. I am sure at least a few of them have managed to breed and have dancing babies you can sue. Really instead of suing babies, you should be begging hospitals to give out your music instead of those tired old Mozart CDs. Probably about your only hope to get anyone under the age of 35 to listen to you again.

If the "Drop Dead Tour" and the hospital CD do not bring you the money and fame you still crave, you still can always get hip surgery and do the “Hump the Piano Tour” for all the fans who were in elementary school and too young to see you slithering your tight little ass across that piano and tantalizing us with “Do you want him? Or do you want me?” Hump that piano, baby!

Once you start humping that piano, why don’t you just break out all your filthy ditties and make it the “Dirty Forever Tour.” Bring all those freaky hits on the road Head, Jack U Off , and Let’s Pretend We’re Married. Of course, you must perform Erotic City, not the instrumental version that you have been teasing fans with for 10 years but the full vocal, “We can fuck until the dawn, making love 'til cherry's gone” rendition. On a similar note, stop changing “Sexuality” to “Spiritually.”

Congratulations on finding your religion and being a devoted Jehovah Witness. You are entitled to your religion and personal quest, but don't burden your fans with your crappy God is Great music. You owe it to your fans to give them the salaciousness that they desire. Actually, you owe it to the one fan who finally got out from under her parents' control, moved near a big city, and got enough money for a ticket, the year that you stopped saying “fuck.”

It's time to bring back the panty dropping songs, so you must make a deal with the JW church. You need to make a donation to the church that is so large that the Catholics will be jealous and the elders in the Watch Tower Society will be helping you sing Hide the Bone. You can have it all: your religion (keep private and out of your music), lots of money (isn't that want the whole Warner Bros. cheated and mistreated me pity party is really about?) and your artistic freedom. You can still write and sing your mature, politically aware songs like Colonized Mind, but please give us your Dirty Mind back before you drop dead.

Sincerely,

Garbageman's Daughter

Revenge Is Not Best Served With a Hot Chick

How does a husband get back at his wife for making veiled references to their sex life on her blog?

By going to a strip club called “Young Hot Chicks with Tight Asses and Perky Breasts for Stinky Middle-Aged Desperate Men with Wandering Hairlines, Expanding Waistlines and Money to Blow for a Little Bit of Insincere Attention” and making a large cash withdrawal from his shared checking account.

He later draws attention to the withdrawal by calling his wife to say: “I am at a strip club, and I spent a lot of money.”

How does the wife retaliate?

http://garbagemansdaughter.blogspot.com/2009/08/revenge-is-not-best-served-with-hot.html

Ready for Round 2?

On Blogging

My blog posts are like a series of one night stands. They feel good at the time, but make me vomit when I look at them a second time.