Letter To A Famous Person

Do you worry about urinary tract infections? Or do you have a urologist on speed dial? Could there be such things as lousy urologists? Wouldn't someone enter that profession to make the most money possible? So wouldn't they want to be the best urologist possible? This is something perhaps you know.

What makes you most sad, being misunderstood or being only able to relate to other famous people? Is it enough that you can now be friends with George Clooney? Do you talk about important things, even private things, around the people who work for you in the same way that the aristocracy talk around servants - as if they're not even there, utterly secure in the knowledge they won't tell anyone your awful secrets? Do you think people other than you feel resentment?

You might google yourself every once in a while. Or do you have someone who does that for you? Do you trust that person? Don't you think that person whom you've hired to search for stuff online about you might edit some of the comments found? Because he or she is getting paid not to engage you but to flatter your ego? Does that bother you? Do you remember a time when that might've bothered you?

People imagine the famous dying in horrible ways far more often than they imagine anyone else dying. This is almost certainly a scientific fact. Does that flatter you? If at some point in time something impossibly magical happens in the universe, like an assassin genie or a death ray, would you be happy to be the first famous person utterly destroyed by the rage of someone who will never be famous? What if the person with the death ray or the assassin genie made sure you suffered terribly for it? Note: there would not be an award - posthumous or otherwise - for your suffering.

Wouldn't it be nice if you sent out greeting cards from time to time? Yourself, of course, not your assistant. Just taking a little time to send greeting cards, cards you've purchased yourself, it can be in a gift shop or in a drug store, it doesn't matter, cards you've purchased yourself and written in yourself, sent to perhaps family or old friends, if you still have any. Even to George Clooney. Wouldn't that be nice? You could pretend then you have something like a soul!

Do you know why you're so easily offended? Do you need an analyst to tell you why? How about some kind of spiritual medium, like a Scientologist or a Magic Eight Ball? Are you as comforted as most people to know that nothing lasts forever?

That's enough for now. Thank you for your time.