Open Letter: Dear Mr. Tom Cruise,
Dear Mr. Cruise,
I really must apologize ahead of time for my bluntness, but I just finishing up writing to a few other Hollywood butt holes and quite frankly am a little pissed off today! So now that pre-apologies are out of the way, let’s get down to business…
Okay, let me see here…
I have been doing my studies on your philosophies of the world and how we all should live our lives; and I wanted to make sure that I have them all figured out correctly. So as soon as you get your head out of your ass, I would appreciate a note back confirming my understandings:
· Scientology good… Ridlin bad.
· Scientology good; anti-depressant bad… very bad…
· Scientology good!
· Narconon good… Scientology good.
· Brooke Shields use anti-depressant, Brooke bad… Brooke bitch…
· Brooke not Scientologist… but scientology still good!
· Tom Cruise Scientologist… Tom Cruise no use Ridlin, Tom Cruise no use anti-depressant, although need to!
· Tom Cruise good…
· Brooke Shields still bitch!
· Tom, old… Katie Holmes, young…
· Katie believe Tom; she no bitch…
· But… Brooke, definitely still bitch…
So, I guess it all comes down to whom we should all believe, the vast medical society… or You and Scientology, if we all should ever become ill?
Well, I know scientology too… Tom.
As a mater of fact, I knew you in one of my past life’s on planet Dumfukgot Chitferbrains. I was that sexy blonde robot that rolled you over with my steamroller on that of the 978th moon rotation; remember me? Then while singing future Mel Torme hit tunes, I got out of my steamroller and molded you into a giant intergalactic crap pile and force-fed you to all the sexy brunette robots on the planet. Then when they were bloated and full, we all sat around a giant glowing bottle of Thorazin and told ghost stories to each other.
We told stories about self-important butt holes on distant planets, trying to use their career status to influence others. We discussed the logic behind an old toilet plunger sitting over top a young beautiful daisy; suffocating it to death with its stale air and a rotten stench. Then we would eventually all laugh ourselves to sleep. As the brunette robots drifted away into dreamland, they began to fart. The gas accumulated around the Thorazin bottle, until the cap popped off, and Arnold Schwarzeneggar jumped out with an automatic pulse-firing laser rifle and shot one round; which engulfed the entire planet into flames, killing everything on it…
When I awoke we were both here on planet earth. I was now a brunette male without a steamroller, Arnold Schwarzenegger was now the Governor of California, but you were still a piece of crap. I guess maybe the next lifetime you might get to be something new… we can all hope anyways…
Sincerely, Eric
I really must apologize ahead of time for my bluntness, but I just finishing up writing to a few other Hollywood butt holes and quite frankly am a little pissed off today! So now that pre-apologies are out of the way, let’s get down to business…
Okay, let me see here…
I have been doing my studies on your philosophies of the world and how we all should live our lives; and I wanted to make sure that I have them all figured out correctly. So as soon as you get your head out of your ass, I would appreciate a note back confirming my understandings:
· Scientology good… Ridlin bad.
· Scientology good; anti-depressant bad… very bad…
· Scientology good!
· Narconon good… Scientology good.
· Brooke Shields use anti-depressant, Brooke bad… Brooke bitch…
· Brooke not Scientologist… but scientology still good!
· Tom Cruise Scientologist… Tom Cruise no use Ridlin, Tom Cruise no use anti-depressant, although need to!
· Tom Cruise good…
· Brooke Shields still bitch!
· Tom, old… Katie Holmes, young…
· Katie believe Tom; she no bitch…
· But… Brooke, definitely still bitch…
So, I guess it all comes down to whom we should all believe, the vast medical society… or You and Scientology, if we all should ever become ill?
Well, I know scientology too… Tom.
As a mater of fact, I knew you in one of my past life’s on planet Dumfukgot Chitferbrains. I was that sexy blonde robot that rolled you over with my steamroller on that of the 978th moon rotation; remember me? Then while singing future Mel Torme hit tunes, I got out of my steamroller and molded you into a giant intergalactic crap pile and force-fed you to all the sexy brunette robots on the planet. Then when they were bloated and full, we all sat around a giant glowing bottle of Thorazin and told ghost stories to each other.
We told stories about self-important butt holes on distant planets, trying to use their career status to influence others. We discussed the logic behind an old toilet plunger sitting over top a young beautiful daisy; suffocating it to death with its stale air and a rotten stench. Then we would eventually all laugh ourselves to sleep. As the brunette robots drifted away into dreamland, they began to fart. The gas accumulated around the Thorazin bottle, until the cap popped off, and Arnold Schwarzeneggar jumped out with an automatic pulse-firing laser rifle and shot one round; which engulfed the entire planet into flames, killing everything on it…
When I awoke we were both here on planet earth. I was now a brunette male without a steamroller, Arnold Schwarzenegger was now the Governor of California, but you were still a piece of crap. I guess maybe the next lifetime you might get to be something new… we can all hope anyways…
Sincerely, Eric
posted by Eric J. at 3:59 PM
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