Dear Calvin Klein – You are not clever.
Dear Conan O’Brien – The only thing remarkable about you is your height. You should be very, very scared of Craig Ferguson. He is better than you at everything.
Dear Danielle Staub - You are a senseless tart who proved she didn’t know her ass from a hole in the wall by bringing your children to that season finale dinner. Even your 12 year old daughter had to break it to you that men only like you because you give them “the goodies” too easily. Cut down on the botox and read a book - maybe even consider reading the one you were “in”. You seemed to be the only person at the table who hadn’t. And don’t say diarrhea on national TV. Ever.
Dear Jim Cramer : I hate the sight of you.
Dear Duff Goldman - Consider making some of your cakes out of actual ‘cake’ instead of balsa wood and foam. If you need a tutorial I suggest watching the Cake Boss show. His charity cakes (which he makes for free) are actually able to be ‘eaten’ by the children they are given to. Novel idea, no?
Dear Helen - Don’t think the public has forgotten how you threw your daughter under the bus and selfishly took her spot on the show. PS – you look weird now.
Dear Tori Spelling – My Pretty Pony called and wants his wardrobe back.
Dear MTV – At what point will you realize that I am not dead and still have an income I am willing to humor advertisers with? Is it really THAT HARD to play decent music? You deserve to not make money.
Dear Crocs – Go away with your blister inducing foot-life-rafts in ugly colors. Please go stand next to Paul Mitchell and Boston Market. I need you all to be grouped together as failures.
Dear Wegman’s – You better get that frickin store open in Crofton asap or there will be hell to pay.