Dear Bradley Pitt-Jolie,
Remember that time when we were roller skating together? It was a party for a mutual friend who had been nominated for a big deal Hollywood award. He was cool enough to have it at a roller rink in Glamorous Glendale. You were still married to Jenny A. and you had the long hair and beard look for the first time that the public will remember.
You were a terrible roller skater. I was good, possibly even great. You remarked on it from your butt as I winged past you to some Donna Summer. Toot toot, yeah, beep beep.
Anyway, I’m not bringing this up to pretend that we are friends or to impress others that we are long lost casual acquaintances. I’m doing it to remind you that once upon a time you looked up to me for my mad skills. I want you to think about me gliding around on my four-on-the-floors and listen to me when I tell you that when presented with a script as dopey and a concept as flimsy as this Chanel No. 5 commercial, you have the power to say no. You do not need the money.
Sure, sure, all those kids’ college educations aren’t going to pay for themselves, but that’s why you and Angie Baby play act in the movies. You do not need to shill for the Kaiser and his stinky toilet water. Shiloh will be able to buy her own man-tailored clothing well into her fifties with the money she makes from her tell all Mommy and Daddy Dearest book she writes.
It is quite likely one of those kids will try to burn the house down. Let’s just hope they manage to destroy all evidence of this piece of Limburger.
Also, I would like to put my vote in for the look where you are pretending to give a fuck—the one where you have short hair and you shave. You are a very good-looking man, some would say bordering on pretty. You might as well flaunt it. Because after this display of poor judgment, you’re going to be on a back lot filming Ocean’s 37 before you know it.
Your friend and roller skating mentor,