To Paris Hilton’s Liver

I know what you must be thinking, ‘Why Me?’

Well it’s your lucky week, because now that Paris has been caught downing margarita’s and climbing behind the wheel of her Mercedes-Benz, she probably will take it easy for awhile.

Moreover, the booze is probably the least of your worries. It will be the endless parade of multi-coloured pharmaceuticals that marches into her body that will shrivel you into a piece of tough shoe leather. The daily paxil/percocet breakfast combo coupled with the mid-afternoon coccaine/lorazepam snacks will surely do a number on you in a few years.

I’m afraid that once you give on her, she’ll have no choice but to give up on you. Once you cease filtering the bad stuff out, Paris will be on a first class plane to Indonesia for a little transplant tourism. She’ll find another liver. All it takes is a roofie and a greedy surgeon with quick hands and you’re a distant memory. Them’s the breaks when your living in the Hollywood fastlane. There have been far greater casualties, believe me.

Hey, if you want to go for a drink I’m up for it…oh, sorry.

Sincerely,

Fergis T. McGillicuddy

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To Bill Gates

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Heard you are taking semi-retirement from the daily grind of running a multi-billion dollar company. I’m glad. Now you’ve got more time to play Xbox 360. I’ve heard Halo 3 is a pretty sweet game. I wouldn’t know. I can’t afford an Xbox as I’m not a billionaire. I hope that you don’t go crazy with all the extra time on your hands. It would be sad to see you turn into a Howard Hughes-type character. He bottled his urine. 

Sincerely,

Fergis T. McGillicuddy