An Open Letter to the Gosselin 8*

Hey Buddies!

How are ya? Okay? I know things aren't great right now. Do y'all want some otter pops?

Is that better? Try not to spill them on your shirts. Now that you aren't on TV you're gonna have to make those clothes last longer. After all, who do you think is going to wash them for you now that the PAs are gone -- your Mom?

See, I knew I could get you to laugh.

I know this whole "cancellation" thing has got to be hard on you. I'm sure camera crews and Teamsters are really the only parents you've ever known. Well, sure, there's your real parents, but let's not even go there. I mean, you're still children, and I really shouldn't swear around you.

I think the hardest part of this all though is the fact that now you all need to find jobs. Yeah, you do. Don't argue. No excuses. None of that "but we're children" crap. Your Mother and Father are accustomed to a certain lifestyle, and they are accustomed to you providing it. If you let them down now what kind of children are you? I'll tell you: not very good ones.

Ultimate fighting, maybe? Nah, Joel looks like a bleeder...

Okay, so we know we need to eliminate any job that requires you to be cute. After all, if you were still cute TLC wouldn't have booted you. We actually should forget any job TLC related unless any of you are old enough to get pregnant and not know it, or if you have any weird habits. Alexis, if you start eating your hair at a rate that it forms a giant ball in your stomach they might want to talk to you.

Maybe we could find something that requires tiny hands. Any of you interested in rug looming or jewelry making? What about pipe snaking or mine canarying? I know, I know, some of these sound dangerous, but really, can they be any worse than what you have been put through? And don't you owe it to your Mom? After all, she went on "Dancing with the Stars" for you and almost killed a man with her yelling. That's how much she loves herse -- I mean, you.

WAIT! I GOT IT! There are just enough of you to form a mangy, rag tag gang of dodgers, like in "Oliver." You might need your Mom for this one though. She can stand somewhere with a sign that says "formerly famous" and unwitting tourists can stop to take pictures. Then, when they aren't expecting it, you can swarm them like locusts and strip them of their fanny packs and digital cameras. You need to jump on this opportunity quickly though. You are entering the teenage years and soon will be seen as just another gang. Then you'll just have to wait until you're all old enough to be on "Celebrity Rehab" to make a decent living. And you KNOW that won't make your Mom happy.

I guess there is another route, but it's kind of crazy. Your Mom could put all the money she has made off you in a trust fund and start parenting. Then you could go to college and find real careers you love, and become your own people.

I know, crazy.

So, I guess you just need to remember that most tourists have a low center of gravity and will stop fighting if you yell "look, corn dog samples." I know I always do.

Best of luck,

Libby

*For my friend Sam

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An Open Letter to Mariah Carey

Dear Mariah,

Congratulations on your new babies! I am sure you are going to be a very interesting mom to say the very least. And I think that you're first act of parenting, I mean, after playing them your greatest hits tape and introducing them to the Reverend Al Sharpton as he renews your wedding vows, is to change their names.

No, I'm not saying your choices aren't unique. Monroe and Moroccan? Your kids definitely won't have to go by Monroe and Moroccan C to differentiate themselves from the scads of others with the same names in school. Mostly though, that whole uniqueness thing will bite them in the ass.

For instance, they will NEVER be able to find a pencil with their names on them at Disneyland.

Now, I know, that doesn't seem like a big deal. With all of your "Glitter" money you could buy them personalized unicorns with pencils for horns. However, when you're five, and you see all of those pencils, with practically every name in the world on them, and yours isn't there, it makes you feel crappy. Trust me. My name is Libby.

It isn't just pencils, or license plates, or rainbow mugs that are the problem either. You know that saying "kids can be cruel?" Well, guess what? KIDS CAN BE CRUEL. Yes, I know, kids can find a way to make fun of every name, but at least make them work for the payoff. Isn't it bad enough that bullies will already have the ammunition of the fact that you are their Mom and you took these pictures while pregnant? Maybe you should have just named your kids "give me a wedgie" and "really, take my lunch money" to make it easier.

If you don't want to change both names, at least change Moroccan, or let him go by his middle name -- Scott. After all, girls can get away with kooky names most of the time, especially if they are slutty, but boys have no such luxury. Also, Scott (I will always refer to him as that now) really should get to pick his own name, since you named him after a design scheme. Yeah, Mariah, we all know you named him after the decor in your third floor balcony. How do we know this? BECAUSE YOU TOLD US! IT'S LIKE YOU DON'T EVEN WANT THEM TO HAVE A CHANCE!

Sorry, I got a little excited.

Ahem.

Really, though, mazel tov. I hope you have very competent nannies to take care of all three, er two of your children. After all, we don't want you overexerting yourself.

That might lead to decisions you regret later.

Best of luck,

Libby

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An Open Letter to the City of San Francisco

Dear San Francisco,

Let the kids have their fucking toys.

Yes, I know that America is in the middle of an obesity epidemic. Yes, I know letting a kid have a Happy Meal is worse than letting them eat a tub of frosting. However, I also know that, as a parent, I have a right to feed my kid shit. Oh, and I also know that the toy is never what influences the decision.

When I stop at McDonalds to buy a Happy Meal for my kid or any other kid who happens to be in my car it has nothing to do with the toy. It has to do with the fact food comes quickly, I know they will eat it, and there is often a playground on the premises. If any of the "slow food," "whole grain" restaurants met those criteria, and didn't look at children like they are vermin, we would go there. And the toys you claim are so tempting? Usually they end up in the recycling bin after sitting in my car for two weeks. Really, they suck.

Now, I am sure you are thinking I am a Tea Party joining, NRA card toting conservative. I'm not. I like big government. I like government that wants to take care of people. I just don't think it should mandate it. Making sure everyone has health insurance? Yes. Forcing everyone to get a colonoscopy? Nope. Offering help to the homeless? Yep. Forcing them to take it? Nope. It's kind of like feeding my kid. I offer her the best food possible. I can't make her eat it. You should have seen how she scraped butternut squash ravioli off her tongue. She also feels that way about chicken nuggets.

Further, do you know how douchey this whole thing makes you look? There are bigger issues to focus on right now -- like civil rights for everyone. Keep your eyes on the prize.

Thanks,

Libby

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Slow Your Roll, Joe

Dear Vice President Biden,

I can't tell you how glad I am that you are Vice President. I know, that might come as a shock that someone feels that way after your "fucking big deal" gaffe today, but it's true. You see, I read somewhere that during the campaign Obama gave you the choice of either being his running mate, or being Secretary of State. I think we can both agree it has been much safer having you behind a desk for the last 14 months. Otherwise, I think we can agree, foreign relations would be a fucking disaster.

Take for example the current situation in the middle east. Now, I am not saying this definitely would have happened, but I can easily picture you calling Netenyahu a dick after the announcement that Israel plans to build new homes in east Jerusalem. I can also picture you calling Ahmadinejad a damn loon. I am not saying that either characterization would have been improper, I'm just saying that they wouldn't have been helpful.

Your "aw shucks" train riding folksiness is just right for the VP slot. You let people know the White House isn't just about eggheads, it's about people who aren't sure when the television was invented. It's not just about crafting ground breaking policy, but also about gloating inappropriately in front of an open mic. Also, it's about knowing when to make the perfect gaffes, so the Republican hate machine pundits focus on pounding you for a little while, and leave Obama alone on possibly the most important day of his Presidency.

Yes, Joe, I am glad you are the Vice President. I will proudly buy and wear this t-shirt in your honor.


Best fucking wishes,

Libby

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An Open Letter to Time

Dear Time,

Please slow down.

I know, in the past, that I have asked the exact opposite of you. When I was 12 I begged you to speed up and get me through junior high. I made a similar request when I was 15 and thought high school would never end. In college I asked again, so sure that if you didn't move faster I wouldn't make it out alive.

I think it was around the age of 21 that you finally took my pleas for speed seriously. And I have willingly let you whip through the past 15 years, even helping you along in my early 20's with large quantities of wine, and days spent more asleep than awake. When I noticed thing were moving so fast, about six years ago, I didn't complain, even though I felt it unfair that the time I was spending with the love of my life felt more fleeting than the times I had spent wondering when I would finally find him. I figured it was par for the course, and that things would slow down again eventually.

So, now I would like it to do just that.

My daughter is now seven months old. Tonight she is sleeping in her crib, in her own room, for the first time. I would keep her in the bassinet in our room a bit longer, but to do that we would have to cut holes in the end for her legs to stick through. It seems like only yesterday she was a little potato, sleeping on my chest, waking only to eat and look around, wondering where the hell she was. It isn't that I don't like watching her grow, and don't look forward to the changes ahead, it's just I don't feel like I am getting time to savor everything. I want to feel like I have embedded every stage on my soul, not like I just caught a glimpse as it roared by.

And it isn't just Meg. I want more quality time with my parents. Why did you move so slowly when we were at odds? When I couldn't wait to get out of the house? Why now, that I appreciate them, and want to spend time with them does time seem fleeting? I mean, fleeting to the point that at night I sometimes panic, thinking I should drive out and climb into bed with my Mom and just hug her. Or wake my Dad and tell him dumb jokes.

Yeah, Time, it would be great if your speed didn't make me crazier too...

So, here's my proposal: you slow down, and I will never again ask for you to speed up. Not even on weeks when I can feel my fingernails growing, and swear the clock is moving backwards. I will never again use the phrase "TGIF," even when Friday feels like years from Monday. I will appreciate every minute, and accept each one as a gift.

Deal?

Thanks,

Libby

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An Open Letter to Tara

Dear Tara,

You are no longer my best friend. You see, in this week that you have been off work, away from your computer, and away from MSN messenger, I have made a new best friend. Her name is SexeeJenni69, and I think we will be friends forever.

You see, even though you are off having a "life," some of us still have to work. We need to work, and need online friends to distract us from that fact. SJ69 (that's what her friends call her) understands that. I knew it from the first time she tried to add me to her contacts lists and asked me to view her webcam. I tried to, but my work network blocked it. I guess she must be into controversial politics or something.

I told SJ69 about you, and she was pretty sympathetic. I think she may want to meet you too, since she asked for your MSN contact and said we should all "party." I tried to explain to her that you are just a 51 weeks a year friend, not BFFs like me and her, but I don't think she wanted to hear my negativity because she typed something in what I think was Cyrillic. Wow, my new BFF is bilingual! And so silly.

I don't even mind that SJ69 keeps asking me for money. So far I have sent her like $129 dollars cash, but most of that was payment for her making sure my identity is protected. I just had to give her my social security number and one credit card number. What a good friend. You never would have done that for me.

Your ex-BFF,

Libby

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An Open Letter to Mackenzie Phillips

Dear Mackenzie,

Before I start this letter I just need to get one thing out of my system.

Ew. Really, ew. Maybe ugh too.

So, you slept with your father. Not just once, but many, many times. In fact, you only stopped sleeping with your father when you became pregnant with a child that was possibly his and had an abortion.

That's it, right?

There isn't any more? Your abortion didn't get up and start walking and become a prop comic did it? Because, really, you have gone so far I think it's best just to get everything out in the open right now.

I mean, that is where you want everything, isn't it? Out in the open? Because , I now know more unsavory details about you than I do about any of my closest friends, and they have plenty of unsavory details about them. In fact, I am kind of amazed at the little tidbits you are willing to drop at the feet of the publishing world and Oprah to get attention. I mean, I know it's hard for a former child star who had substance abuse issues to get a book deal nowadays (thanks Danny Bonaduce), but really, you were willing to go above and beyond. If one of the Cosby kids wants a book deal now they are going to have to prove they were abducted by aliens, impregnated, and gave birth to a lizard creature. Oh, and did drugs, but, really, now that's a given.

I am sure you are hoping that your shocking revelations will lead to book sales, and maybe someone optioning your story for a Lifetime movie of the week, but I think what it really might do it boost the sales of Wilson Phillips CDs. At least, I hope that's what it does. I know I am going out to buy one right now, just to say "I'm sorry" to your sister Chyna. I might even try and figure out what movies your sister Bijou has been in so I can buy one on DVD help her out too. I think they both deserve a little something for the public humiliation you are putting them through in the name of "catharsis."

Now, if you'll excuse me I have to go dip my head in a bucket of bleach to try and remove your story from my brain. Then I am going to get botox to get this expression off my face. Ever since this story leaked last night I have had looked lilke I just smelled stinky cheese, or listened to Glen Beck. It isn't pretty.

Best of luck, and once again, ew.

Libby

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An Open Letter to Brad Pitt

Dear Brad Pitt,

The next time Ann Curry asks you to do an interview, I think you should refuse. Better yet, I think I you should get a restraining order. You see, I am pretty sure she is stalking you.

I, involuntarily, watch the Today Show every morning. I have to. It's either that or watch traffic cameras. I guess I could watch nothing, but then I would have to keep track of time by watching the clock, and that's too far away for my old eyes. Maybe I should get lasik. But that's not important. What is important is that I observe Ann Curry in almost every annoying moment she is on television. And let me tell you, there is something about interviewing you, or talking about interviewing you that makes her downright creepy.

You can see it first in the eyes. They get a little bulgy. You can see white on all the edges. And she stops blinking, like if she closes her eyes for a second she might miss some of your radiance. Her eyebrows go up too, as if she is trying to make more room to for her eyes to look at you. As Tara says it's "like she's trying to give him an ocular blow job." Yeah, that sounds gross, BECAUSE IT IS.

Her posture changes too, like she is reverting back into junior high girl mode. She crosses her hands, but not too much, because in case you make a move like you want to touch her, she wants to be ready. Oh, and when you do move towards her? She leans in and her hands snap at you like a Venus fly trap. I'm surprised you haven't lost a finger.She has her hand on your ass, doesn't she?

I'm surprised you haven't thought of this before. I mean, haven't you ever wondered why they don't send Meredith or Matt to interview you? You're a huge star, and yet the only person who ever interviews you is the fourth banana. Even Roker is more impressive! I think they all want to interview you, but that they are scared of Ann. No one wants to cross the crazy lady in the office. That's how yogurts get poisoned. Trust me on that one.

I know you need your ego stroked. It feels good when a national television show begs you for time and is willing to cover any of your projects, no matter how ridicuous or self serving. I'm sure Good Morning America would be willing to fawn all over you though, and those reporters probably aren't lurking in your bushes.

Really, check your bushes. Oh, and tell Angie to watch her back too. She may look Asian, but I am betting Curry has a bit of "Single White Female" in her.

Love your work, even "Cool World."

Best wishes,

Libby

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Open Letter to Ryan

Today's post comes from Sarah, or hell, I can't tell which. All I know is that she is hot...

Dear Ryan,

If I remember correctly we met briefly at an Eels concert a few years ago. I was the ditzy blond drunk on vodka tonics with a nerdy scientist in tow.

I don’t know you well enough to ruin your marriage, but I’m going to anyway.

I know you THINK you are happily married to a woman who adores you, but you’re not. She’s living a lie. I know you’re confused, so let me explain.

A few weeks ago Libby and I met at the pub for drinks and dinner. We had a grand time. We spent a few hours shit talking while gulping wine, because that’s how we Utah girls roll. We have a lot in common Libby and I. We are both friends with Yocom and we both could happily live inside a bottle of wine.

Back to my point…

When the bill came Libby refused to let me pay for my own dinner. I think it’s clear she’s trying to date me. Why else would she pour glass after glass of wine down my throat? She was trying to get me drunk so she could take advantage of me. Don’t you worry, Ryan, I didn’t let her. I was far too interested getting the goods on a cute guy she knows BECAUSE I AM STRAIGHT.

I apologize you had to learn of your wife’s indiscretions via a blog post, but it’s my only option. I’d come over to your house and talk to you face-to-face, but Libby would likely try to dry hump my leg and I haven’t shaved this week.

Enjoy your vacation.

Best,
Sarah

P.S. If it’s not too much trouble could you swing by Trader Joe’s and get me a case of Two Buck Chuck? Thanks!

P.S.S. Dude, you had to see this coming. She wears Crocs for hell's sake.

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An Open Letter to Kirstie Alley

Dear Kirstie,

Remember when you were an actress? Yeah, so do I. I liked you so much better then. Now you have morphed into this big narcissistic ball of weight obsession, and it just is not becoming. All you do is talk about why you gained the weight, how you lost the weight, how you felt about losing the weight, how you cried about gaining the weight, and how other people should feel about you losing/gaining the weight.

It is so boring I want to scream.

Yes, I know that we are a nation obsessed with weight, and that every time you admit to gaining/losing a pound you get the cover of People. Really though, is this what you want to be known for? Is this what you want your legacy to be? The fat actress who stopped being an actress so she could rake in the cash just being fat? I mean, I guess that would be fine for some who didn't have any talent (cough, cough, Carnie Wilson), but as I recall you actually had some. You were even good in those ridiculous movies with the talking baby.

But what has she lost?

I know there are people who are encouraging you to stay on this path, saying that your struggle with weight makes them "appreciate you more" because they can "relate" to you. Don't listen to them. What they are really trying to say is "I don't feel as bad for myself because there is someone famous I can ridicule." Also, why should you care if you are "relate" to normal people? Normal people don't win Emmys, or hang out with Oprah. They sit at home and write stupid blogs about celebrities while feeling their asses grow.

Kirstie, now it's up to you. Either you can keep riding this weight loss gravy train, eating gravy, and sink into mediocrity, or you can rise, like a phoenix from the ashes, say "I don't care what I weigh" and be an actress again (and don't give me that "no one will hire me" thing, Liza Minelli got a fresh start, and so can you). Oh, and if you pick the second one, you can't tell us about how you've picked the second one in a multi-page "Okay" magazine spread. Choosing integrity means actually choosing it.

Best of luck,

Libby

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An Open Letter to the Suleman Family

Dear Sulemans (or is it Suelmen?),

I know you are all very busy right now, what with caring for 14 children, and publicly feuding in the press, so I'll keep this short. Two words: family counseling. Two more: get some.

The fact that Nadya decided to have a litter of children, despite the fact she cannot afford them, or adequately care for them, is neither here nor there. These children are here now, and have to be cared for -- all 14 of them. Me making points about the moral ramifications of their births, or questioning if the doctors who created them were absent the day they taught ethics at medical school are neither here nor there. That goes for anyone else arguing those points right now. The important thing now is making sure these children are cared for, and, for better or for worse, you are the people who will be caring for them. And it's pretty clear that you are all batshit crazy.

Do you not know how to have conversations when reporters are not present? Nadya, you told your side of the story to NBC, claiming that you have never taken anything from anyone, and although there have been times you have "struggled," you have done just fine. Angela, you gave your interview to ABC, and basically called Nadya a pathological liar, claiming she lives in squalor that you have to pay for. You even showed them the inside of your house to prove it.

You couldn't have at least talked to the same network?

Please, for the sake of the children, start working together, and stop trying to destroy each other publicly. Yes, Nadya, we know that you had an unhappy childhood, and that such a thing is rare in America. And, yes, Angela, we know that you have had to unfairly had to shoulder the burden of your daughter's breeding. However, none of that matters now. There are 14 children that someone has to care for. Nadya, you can't do it alone, even if you "finish your schooling." And Angela, we all know you aren't going to turn your back on your grandchildren now. So, why don't the two of you stop the fighting, actually talk to each other, and move on. After all, bickering does not get you sponsorship deals from Pampers...

Best of luck,

Libby

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An Open Lettter to the Mother of Octuplets

Dear Ma'am,

Congratulations on your puppies, er, I mean babies. They are truly a medical miracle, just like the guy who had an ear grafted onto his arm. Well, not just like it, your babies are probably less freaky looking, but they both fall into the category of things medical science can do, but probably shouldn't.

Don't get me wrong, I am not judging you! Who am I do judge? I am likely taking the exact same fertility drugs you took in order to get your brood. The only difference is that my doctor is responsible, um, I mean, a buzzkill. He actually monitors me, and adjusts my medications to make sure that I don't end up turning my uterus into a clown car. Actually, I think most fertility doctors are like that, damn them. Something about some kind of oath. Of course, you have not confirmed if you used fertility drugs to have your babies, so it could be that nature, and not a doctor handing out Follistim like it was roofies at a rave is responsible for your births. If that is the case, I would suggest tracing your family roots, since you are likely part Schnauzer.

I have to admit that I was a little concerned for your well being when I first heard about the births, but now I see that you are an old pro at this motherhood stuff, having given birth to six other children previously. Those kids are so lucky! They won't have to worry about parental oversight at all. I mean, unless you get a TLC show and then they have cameras following them around every day. I don't think they'll have to worry about that though, because even Jon and Kate will likely lose their development deal once their kids start getting acne and bad attitudes. Their teenage years will be free!! Really, only the Duggars have figured out the way around this whole "older kids are non-telegenic" conundrum. They just keep having one at a time, mixing the new in with the old. Wow, actually, you may have both families beat. After all, you have the older kids, and then you have the extreme multiple birth. Yours might be a show that surpasses basic cable and goes straight to prime time. Good for you!

Let me know if I can help with anything. I mean, on the off chance that you decide you don't want all eight babies, I would be happy to take one off your hands. I'll even take the ugly one. Of course, from what I have read, you are planing to keep all of them, and even breastfeed all of them. In that case, let me offer you my service as lackey, since you are going to need lots of Gatorade and smoothies to keep up with that amount of milk output. You probably won't have time to eat real food, since you will always be feeding one of them. I mean, unless that Schnauzer thing is true and you have multiple nipples...

Best of luck,

Libby

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An Open Letter to Keith Olbermann

Dear Keith Olbermann,

Thank you for making my job harder.

You see, I am a television producer here in Salt Lake City Utah, the state that is home to your pick for “worst person in the world” Representative Chris Buttars. You bestowed the honor on him Tuesday night on your MSNBC talk show because of his call for the passage of a resolution encouraging retailers to use the phrase “Merry Christmas” in their holiday promotions. By doing so, you have given him more attention than he ever deserves, and brought people out of the wood work wanting to defend him, and Utah, from a “sad lonely bitter man” (their words, not mine). That’s just great.

Let me explain something to you, Keith, here in Utah Buttars is a joke. Few people give what he says credence, and he is seldom mentioned in the press unless it is a in a “how does this guy get re-elected” or “what kind of crazy thing is he saying now” sense. Of course, that was before you stepped into the picture. Just as we were about to file this story away in the “not important” bin you came along and blew everything to hell. Now, not only are we covering it, but people are writing in saying Buttars has a good idea. The economy is in a shambles, more people here in the state are seeking food and housing assistance than ever before, and cuts are being made to state and local programs that could help them, but we are wasting time on Chris Buttars. Thanks.

Look, I know how hard it is to make people care about the important issues, and how great it is to have a firestorm issue to rant about. We do stories on the economy, or the election, and I can hear remote controls across the Wasatch Front changing the channel. But sensationalizing the person who is basically Utah’s crazy uncle is not the way to increase viewers, and it certainly isn’t the way to improve the viewer’s opinion of television news.

So, please, leave Chris Buttars alone. For me, and for everyone else covering news in Utah. We’ll take care of him. Don’t worry. And if you really need something to talk about, why don’t you go after Peggy Noonan? She says we can’t be in a recession because people are still overweight. Doesn’t that make her worse than Hitler? Go get her!

Sincerely,

Libby

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An Open Letter to Oliver Stone

Dear Oliver,

If Barack Obama loses this election, lots of people will blame lots of things. Some will blame racism. Some will blame stupidity. Sarah Silverman will blame the Jews. And I, if Barack Obama loses, I will be blaming you.

You see, opening tomorrow is your latest attempt to make people think of you as a groundbreaking film maker: "W." Really, though, it's just going to piss people off and make you look like a douchebag. And, even worse, it could help John McCain. Because, even though you say this is not a "political movie" (yeah, and "Frosty the Snowman" isn't a Christmas flick), people will view it as so. They will see it, they will view it as just another example of the Hollywood elite picking on the retarded, they will remember the cute way Sarah Palin said "say it ain't so, Joe" and they will vote Republican.

I admire your ambition, Oliver, really I do. Not in your filmaking, but in your desire to be the jerk who pushes the Democrats out of the "win" column once and for all. I mean, Barbara Striesand took a shot at it and couldn't do it, and she's usually political kryptonite. So, if you can do it? Jerk hall of fame.

Now, I know what you're thinking Oliver, "but people don't even like the President. This film will be cathartic for them. It could actually help Obama. " To answer that argument I have three words for you: my sister Amanda. You see, Oliver, when I was growing up my sister and I HATED each other. We would get into fights that rivaled gang warfare. My Mother practically had to pat us down for weapons when we entered and left the house. It was ugly. And the only thing I hated more than my sister? People picking my sister. If it was a fair fight, I was cool with it, and usually would root for the other person. But if I felt she was being unfairly attacked? I was like a four foot nine ball of fury. Oliver, people are going to view your film as an unfair attack, and they are going to use whatever is in their power to fight back. That probably will include their vote.

I could be completely off base here. People could go see your movie and stream into the streets chanting "Oliver! Oliver!" However, I doubt that. You see, by portraying the President as a boob you are also, in a way, calling the people who voted for him boobs as well. That's more than 50 percent of registered voters in the last election. Now, I'm sure lots of people have called you a boob (and worse) in your lifetime. Did it make you feel good? I bet not. I bet it made you want to fight and buy a d gun, and oppress the rights of gays and females. I think you see my point.

There is no way to stop your movie from coming out tomorrow. I'm sure the film canisters are already at the theaters. Just know though, that I am watching the polls. If, come Monday, Obama's numbers are down, I don't care if he french kissed William Ayers at a weekend rally, I am blaming you. And if he loses? You go on the list -- right next to Ralph Nader.

Regards,

Libby

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An Open Letter to Barbara Striesand

Dear Barbara,

Please sit down and shut up.

I loved you in "Funny Girl." I loved you in "Yentl." I even sat through "Nuts" and "The Mirror Has Two Faces." I think you are a fabulous performer and a national treasure, but as a political ally, you are kryptonite.

Let's review your involvement in the last two political campaigns. You appeared at fundraisers for Al Gore and John Kerry. What do both of these men have in common? They lost. They lost in elections where the opponent was no better than a monkey in a conservatively cut dress. And yet, now you think it is a good thing to do the same to Obama? Barack Obama, a real hope for change in Washington? I'm sorry Barbara, but I think your ego has eclipsed reality.

You see, something has happened recently that you would know about if you took a moment to read a newspaper in between getting your hair and nails done -- Sarah Palin has entered the race, and the American people love her. She is their backwoods darling, no matter how uneducated (Bush doctrine, anyone?), unprepared (Yup, yup?), or completely backwards (linking Iraq to September 11th? Um, not even Bush does that). And not only do Americans like her, they feel sorry for her, and are ready to protect against any potential harm. Palin has told them that she is proof "anyone can be President" (yes, I know Tina Fey said that, but really, can't you imagine Palin saying it?) and by god they have her back now. All they need to cement their fervor? A 28-thousand dollar a plate fundraiser held in Hollywood, sponsored by gay movie moguls, and featuring a prima donna who once played a communist in a 70's movie. The only thing that would be worse is if you promised to burn a flag at the end of your show. Shit. I was kidding, please don't take that as an actual suggestion.

If you really want to help, Barbara, donate money. All of the cash that you would have spent on a saucy frock, a make-up artist/miracle worker, a band, and really good lighting, send it to the campaign -- anonymously.

Please, Barbara. If you won't do it for me do it for America. Do it for you. Because I'm pretty sure electing Sarah Palin will do nothing for your record sales. She seems more the LeAnn Womack type.

Thanks,

Libby

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An open letter to Jamie Lynn Spears

Dear Jamie Lynn,

Are you not getting enough attention, Pookie?

I know, I know, it can be hard to be the responsible sibling when the problem child is getting all the attention. It's natural for you to want your parents, and the paparazzi, to notice you. But an unwanted teen pregnancy? You could have done so much better. I mean, do you really think people are going to be shocked a 16-year old -- from the back woods of Louisiana no less -- got knocked up? Maybe if you traveled back in time you could shock people in the 1950's, but really, you're going to have to try harder to get reaction now.

Yes, yes, I know, your unborn bastard (that is the technical term) has landed you on the cover of O.K. magazine, and gotten you attention from every legitimate and illegitimate media organization in the world. But I can guarantee your allure will fade before you change your first diaper. Britney will go to Starbucks, crash her car, and flash her crotch, and you'll be yesterday's news. You might as well have gotten a DUI.

You needed to do something new, something different, something exciting. Dating Larry Flynt would have been great. Or you could have started a "Teens for Satan" organization. Or, if you really wanted to push it, you could have decided to ally yourself with North Korea, and started a nuclear war. All of these things would have caused a bigger splash, could later have been blamed on youthful stupidity, and wouldn't leave you with an inconvenient reminder -- like a baby.

I know it's hard to believe, but this baby will most likely outlive you. It will definitely outlive your sister. And so, for the rest of your life, you will have to deal with it. I know, you have money, and a seemingly endless supply of resources, but they can't get you back your fun teenage years, or your drunken, irresponsible 20's, or the time in your 30's when you and your husband are just enjoying being a couple. Of course, that is if you get married -- the douche who impregnated you most likely will not stick around, and kids really kind of zap any energy you may have to date.

I really do with you the best of luck, if for no other reason than the fact that you have pulled a completely innocent child into all of this. But, really, I see the future very clearly and it isn't pretty. I see a southern tract home, a screaming kid, a failed pop album, and a role on at least one "celebreality" show. Well, maybe two -- you'll probably get fat, and want to take off the pounds.

I hope your time in the spotlight was worth it.

Kudos on the baby,

Libby

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An open letter to Alexis Stewart

Dear Alexis,

Please do not reproduce.

I saw you on Oprah yesterday afternoon, bemoaning how, at 42, having a baby has not been an easy process. I heard you whine about how much you wanted a baby, but not just any baby, the fruit of your WASPy womb. I saw you lay out all of the medications and shots you have to give yourself, and heard you say (with a bit of snooty pride, I might add) how the whole process costs you 28-THOUSAND DOLLARS A MONTH.

Alexis, I realize that you were so busy having a career and arguing with your mother that having a child may have slipped your mind. However, that does not mean you are automatically owed a child later on. It's too late, you missed out, get on with it. I missed out on being a child prodigy and traveling around Europe after college. Life is about picking and choosing. I could strap on a backpack and join Mensa now, but it would just make me look pathetic and sad. Just like you.

I think my feelings towards you would be different if you displayed any joy in the possibly of having a child. I mean, you said "I look at it as sort of a chore." So, what happens if you are successful and this long awaited and very expensive baby springs forth from your body? I am imagining that after all of your struggles you will be expecting more from it than just a normal child. What if it cries? Or is developmentally delayed? Or a shabby dresser? Maybe you should only spend 14-thousand dollars a month on treatments and save the rest for the eventual therapy.

Also, please don't adopt. I'm sure that will be your next course of action once your "dry, crusty" eggs (your words, not mine) prove to disappoint. You'll go trotting off to China, or Vietnam or Romania looking for the perfect import. But, of course, this child will just serve as a constant reminder of your failings, which I'm sure you will make clear to her (of course it will be a her) every day.

Maybe I'm wrong about you Alexis. Maybe you are a lovely person who has genuine reasons for wanting a child and will turn out to be a fabulous mother. For any potential children you have, I hope so. However, I think your just in it for the Bugaboo stroller, the adorable outfits, and to get your mother off your back. And that is not a good thing.


Libby

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