Thursday, August 7, 2008

Grasping At Straws: An Open Letter To Katie Holmes

Dear Katie:
I know Tom likes you to be called Kate, like you are a bitter, 97 year old uppercrust pill popping wife who plays bridge and pretends to have no emotion but secretly screams into her pillow at night, but I know you prefer to be called Katie, writing it into a piece of paper occasionly only to immediately throw it into the toilet and flush it away along with your feelings. So I will call you Katie. Now, I know that you love The Wizard of Oz-I'm sure it was your favorite movie as a child. I also know that Tom is a HUGE fan of Judy Garland (we all know why, girl!). However, I am sorry to say that unlike the movie, you cannot click your heels and simply chant "There is no place like home". Uttering this short phrase will not bring you back to the life you once led-a life where you could let your hair (when you still had it) down, and run free through a field of daisies without being shocked by your invisible collar when you strayed too far from the property. Sadly you live in Oz now-and I don't mean like in the movie. I mean like in the television show. You know-the one about the prison. Where you get your ass beat and shanked for talking back and shit. Where you can only talk to your loved one on designated days and if they dare be brave enough to bring you a preent it must be searched for contriband that does not violate houe rules. But don't give up entirely! There is always hope. Keep wearing those ruby slippers-even if just as a reminder that someday you might wish upon that star and wake up where the clouds are far behind you. Good luck sister sledge! May the flying monkeys be with you!


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