Dear Miss Hilton,
We've never met so I'm sure you have opened this letter with some slight reluctance. I'd like to thank you first of all for making that initial leap of faith. In this letter I detail a proposal that could lead both of us to far more fulfilling lives than destiny would otherwise devise for us. Though we are from such different backgrounds and social castes, you and I are very similar, and that similarity is what I base most of this proposal on. It is a proposal that I feel will require some preface, so I will begin by explaining a bit more about myself.
I am a nineteen year old student at James Madison University. This is my second year working towards a degree in English. I hope to someday educate the next generation of listless rebels that inhabit this wasteland of a country. This aspiration is one that I accepted with full knowledge that I would probably receive no real recognition for the countless hours spent slaving over children's scribblings. In all likelihood, I will spend the entirety of my adult life in this job that will never pay me more than a tiny pittance but I may genuinely enjoy. The problem is, to be successful in this country, you have to do more than simply enjoy what you do. When someone is asked for the name of someone they consider successful, they name people like Bill Gates, Barack Obama, or Brad Pitt. These are people whose talents have netted them a career that not only allows them job satisfaction, but gains them fame and recognition as well.
I am not one of those people. I probably never will be. I will almost definitely never be on Access Hollywood, The Tonight Show, or even a local news program. At the end of my life, I will probably expire in relative obscurity having lived a fairly satisfying life without ever really achieving the American dream of fame and fortune. I will spend my entire existence being flooded with media whose sole reason for being is to make me desire to be what I am not. I will watch reality shows that portray normal people becoming overnight celebrities. I will see commercials showing lottery winners that have on random chance improved their life a thousand-fold. Yet, possessing neither an in at a large production studio nor a propensity for state-sponsored gambling, I will never fit into either of these categories. I have no skills to bring me to this point other than a slight flair for oration and a gift for choosing the right words in my writing. Sadly, I am not gifted enough in either of these areas to truly achieve fame. This is why I have written this letter. I need your help.
This letter is not just idle begging. I do not want you to mail me a check, or do anything that will require some unrequited favor on your part. I'm asking for you to do something that will also benefit you in nearly the same way it will benefit me. You see, you also need my help. My earliest memories of being aware that you existed were based on the scandalous tape of you having sex that was released or leaked– the jury never decided which –in 2003. Having sex is hardly a news-worthy event. In my own experience, it has never gained me national notoriety or news coverage. Unless I'm mistaken about a large number of things, nobody has ever paid to watch a tape of me having sex nor requested such a tape be made or distributed. The difference is that you are a celebrity.
You're not a celebrity of your own making, however. You are no Brad Pitt, with a string of successful movie roles behind you. The only film anyone has ever cared to mention to me that featured you was the aforementioned sex tape. You are no Bill Gates, with a brilliant idea leading to successful products year after year. You've put your name on some clothing labels and fragrances but I doubt highly that you had any hand in the designing of either. You are certainly no Barack Obama, with an inspiring story and commanding vocabulary that inspires millions. In general the population seems to think you to be quite a dullard. You are a celebrity whose every action is interpreted as an attempt to improve her image, who has no real accomplishments to be proud of.
So you see, you and I have the exact opposite problems here. You can never achieve life satisfaction and I can never achieve fame. To truly live the American dream we both must reach out of the nearly predetermined lives ahead of us and grab on to something to lift us up. In this case, I'm suggesting we let our ski-lifts to happiness be each other. I believe that you and I should get married.
This proposal is not perfect. I am fully aware of this. While I consider myself a fine specimen of a human male, I am certain that I do not meet your usual standards of looks and wealth. While you are both attractive and powerful, you do not meet my usual standards of decency and musical taste. I apologize if I am judging you prematurely, as my only impressions of you are based on those events that capture the paparazzi's eye, and that one horrible cd that you released. I believe in this marriage despite our differences in standards, interests, and lifestyles.
The reason that you and I can put aside our differences as man and wife is that we need each other. I need you to elevate me to a social level that will make me the envy of my peers. I need your money and connections to become an established writer. People would buy anything I wrote if I were your husband. You need me to affirm that you can perform a single altruistic deed that the public cannot misinterpret as being motivated by self-interest. Other than this newfound satisfaction with your life, this melding of man and woman will not benefit you in any way. It may bring you briefly back into the public eye, but that will fade as quickly as it comes when people find that I am not a celebrity or a drug dealer. I will represent your one irrefutably good deed in a life full of gray-area charities and benefit dinner appearances.
The cards are stacked against you and I. Those of us not blessed enough to be obscenely talented in some are must rely on one another to be lifted up. Let's beat the odds, Paris. Let's show everyone that we too can achieve. I look forward to your response with bated breath, a newly dry-cleaned tuxedo, and a video camera for the honeymoon.
With acceptance and admiration,
Joshua Mead
We've never met so I'm sure you have opened this letter with some slight reluctance. I'd like to thank you first of all for making that initial leap of faith. In this letter I detail a proposal that could lead both of us to far more fulfilling lives than destiny would otherwise devise for us. Though we are from such different backgrounds and social castes, you and I are very similar, and that similarity is what I base most of this proposal on. It is a proposal that I feel will require some preface, so I will begin by explaining a bit more about myself.
I am a nineteen year old student at James Madison University. This is my second year working towards a degree in English. I hope to someday educate the next generation of listless rebels that inhabit this wasteland of a country. This aspiration is one that I accepted with full knowledge that I would probably receive no real recognition for the countless hours spent slaving over children's scribblings. In all likelihood, I will spend the entirety of my adult life in this job that will never pay me more than a tiny pittance but I may genuinely enjoy. The problem is, to be successful in this country, you have to do more than simply enjoy what you do. When someone is asked for the name of someone they consider successful, they name people like Bill Gates, Barack Obama, or Brad Pitt. These are people whose talents have netted them a career that not only allows them job satisfaction, but gains them fame and recognition as well.
I am not one of those people. I probably never will be. I will almost definitely never be on Access Hollywood, The Tonight Show, or even a local news program. At the end of my life, I will probably expire in relative obscurity having lived a fairly satisfying life without ever really achieving the American dream of fame and fortune. I will spend my entire existence being flooded with media whose sole reason for being is to make me desire to be what I am not. I will watch reality shows that portray normal people becoming overnight celebrities. I will see commercials showing lottery winners that have on random chance improved their life a thousand-fold. Yet, possessing neither an in at a large production studio nor a propensity for state-sponsored gambling, I will never fit into either of these categories. I have no skills to bring me to this point other than a slight flair for oration and a gift for choosing the right words in my writing. Sadly, I am not gifted enough in either of these areas to truly achieve fame. This is why I have written this letter. I need your help.
This letter is not just idle begging. I do not want you to mail me a check, or do anything that will require some unrequited favor on your part. I'm asking for you to do something that will also benefit you in nearly the same way it will benefit me. You see, you also need my help. My earliest memories of being aware that you existed were based on the scandalous tape of you having sex that was released or leaked– the jury never decided which –in 2003. Having sex is hardly a news-worthy event. In my own experience, it has never gained me national notoriety or news coverage. Unless I'm mistaken about a large number of things, nobody has ever paid to watch a tape of me having sex nor requested such a tape be made or distributed. The difference is that you are a celebrity.
You're not a celebrity of your own making, however. You are no Brad Pitt, with a string of successful movie roles behind you. The only film anyone has ever cared to mention to me that featured you was the aforementioned sex tape. You are no Bill Gates, with a brilliant idea leading to successful products year after year. You've put your name on some clothing labels and fragrances but I doubt highly that you had any hand in the designing of either. You are certainly no Barack Obama, with an inspiring story and commanding vocabulary that inspires millions. In general the population seems to think you to be quite a dullard. You are a celebrity whose every action is interpreted as an attempt to improve her image, who has no real accomplishments to be proud of.
So you see, you and I have the exact opposite problems here. You can never achieve life satisfaction and I can never achieve fame. To truly live the American dream we both must reach out of the nearly predetermined lives ahead of us and grab on to something to lift us up. In this case, I'm suggesting we let our ski-lifts to happiness be each other. I believe that you and I should get married.
This proposal is not perfect. I am fully aware of this. While I consider myself a fine specimen of a human male, I am certain that I do not meet your usual standards of looks and wealth. While you are both attractive and powerful, you do not meet my usual standards of decency and musical taste. I apologize if I am judging you prematurely, as my only impressions of you are based on those events that capture the paparazzi's eye, and that one horrible cd that you released. I believe in this marriage despite our differences in standards, interests, and lifestyles.
The reason that you and I can put aside our differences as man and wife is that we need each other. I need you to elevate me to a social level that will make me the envy of my peers. I need your money and connections to become an established writer. People would buy anything I wrote if I were your husband. You need me to affirm that you can perform a single altruistic deed that the public cannot misinterpret as being motivated by self-interest. Other than this newfound satisfaction with your life, this melding of man and woman will not benefit you in any way. It may bring you briefly back into the public eye, but that will fade as quickly as it comes when people find that I am not a celebrity or a drug dealer. I will represent your one irrefutably good deed in a life full of gray-area charities and benefit dinner appearances.
The cards are stacked against you and I. Those of us not blessed enough to be obscenely talented in some are must rely on one another to be lifted up. Let's beat the odds, Paris. Let's show everyone that we too can achieve. I look forward to your response with bated breath, a newly dry-cleaned tuxedo, and a video camera for the honeymoon.
With acceptance and admiration,
Joshua Mead
Comment