Dear Madonna,

Dear Madonna,

 

I have recently heard of your alleged affair with Alex Rodriguez, who shall heretofore be referred to as A-Dud.  It pains me to hear that you have not picked a more suitable lover with whom to have an affair.  Do you feel as if you won the lottery only to find out that the grand prize is an autographed photo of Jimmy Smits?  

 

Couldn’t you have chosen someone a little closer to your greatness and social standing?  Like Jesus, perhaps?  Oh wait, Kaballalists don’t believe in Jesus. Ok, how about Elvis?  He isn’t dead, you know. Actually, he is that one old dude on “Gossip Girl.”  But even if he were dead he would be more exciting than A-Dud.  

 

Anyway, I can’t hide my disappointment.  It seems as if you are slipping away from me.

 

First, you name your album “Hard Candy.”  C’mon!  That’s like if Paris Hilton named her vagina “Fur Burger” or something.  

 

Then you release “4 Minutes to Save the World.”  And you proceed to NOT tell us what you would do in those four minutes, leading us to believe that you would merely groan“uh-huh” a lot, do the bump with JT, and then let the world explode. “But if I die tonight at least I can say I did what I wanted to do. Tell me, how ‘bout you?”  Well, let’s see…I would more than likely declare nuclear war on your latest album, eat an entire fucking bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken and then smoke a filterless cigarette.*  

 

Now, you are all over the news for the alleged A-Dud affair.   I don’t know what I will do next if you do something like, oh, recruit Britney Spears for a virtual appearance on your upcoming tour.

 

Oh.  Fuck.  Does KFC deliver?

 

Yours truly,

KBD

 

*If you wanted to have sex with me during these 4 minutes of trying to save the world, just ring me.