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Dear Henry Rollins,

I need help. Specifically yours. You’re probably the only person on the planet who can be of assistance in this time of need. You see, every year for Christmas, “Santa”–also known as “my mother”–gives me a self-help book. Dude, when even Santa thinks you need to learn a few lessons from Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff For Teens, then you know you have a problem.

Therefore, I need someone older, wiser, and more badass to tell me to stop being a pansy-ass motherfucker. I used to have a friend who would do that, but she moved to Florida and long-distance chastising isn’t as effective. So the position’s open, and I think you would be perfect for it.

See, you’re really kind of intimidating. You are quite large. You’re Henry Rollins! It would be totally awesome if you could pop up in my life every so often (for example, when I am being passive and letting people walk all over me) and tell me to stop being so lame and grow a pair. I need you around to dispense little gems of wisdom like these:

“When you start to doubt yourself, the real world will eat you alive.”

“Don`t do anything by half. If you love someone, love them with all your soul. When you go to work, work your ass off. When you hate someone, hate them until it hurts.”

“Half of life is fucking up. The other half is dealing with it.”

You could save me, Henry. You could be my tattooed fairy godfather. We could go for walks and eat grilled cheese sandwiches. We could drink black coffee and stare at the wall.

So what do you say, man? Help a kid out.

Love, Madeline

This entry was posted on Thursday, January 29th, 2009 at 1:14 pm and is filed under Celebrities, Cultural Consumption Journals. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.