How dare these people, these bloggers, continue to send me such hurtful, shameful letters, these electronic mailings? From the bottom of my swelling heart, I beg you to stop this vociferous onslaught.I am not a bruising Governor Arnold delivering a graduation speech, here to be cat-called and whistled at with your scorn!
I am not an inept chef's apprentice on television's "Hell's Kitchen", here to be berated and humbled by the stickiness of my risotto!
I am not a pitiable Katie Holmes, trapped by a maniac, here to be whispered about and made a fool of for doting upon a lunatic homosexual!
I am not a lunatic homosexual!
It all began when I unfortunately spoke out of turn. So casually, I stated the following:
"Let Michael Jackson do anything the dear monstrosity wishes. For crying out loud, he has splotches on his ding-dong, the face of LaToya and a billion dollar credit card bill. Were I in the same situation, I'd most certainly make the most of my shattered life and nose."
Oh, the other dandies in my salon expressed such moral outrage. "How dare you defend this wicked churl!" screamed Alfonse. "Do you also support the abuse of innocent children?" accused Michaud. "Perhaps he's feeling delirium from the dozen doughnuts I saw him devour this morning at Krispie Kreme!" spat Etienne!
"J'aillblah!" I attempted to decry something in French (for the Drama), but alas, I was left too astonished by the cruelty of my cunning comrades. They chuckled and fanned themselves. Their mongoose black eyes offset by the powdery white of their dandy makeup.
"I defend Michael Jackson, because I am certain he is innocent. I have slept with him in his very bed!"
...to be continued...
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