Dear Princess,
You've got yourself in a lather again, haven't you? Recent videos have seen you metamorphose from Horror's Self-Proclaimed Bad Boy into the bastard offspring of Joe Pesci and Beaker from the Muppets. The only reason I bring this up is because your health really looks like it's taken a downturn: you spew and froth about 'yellow journalists', but your waxy skin, illuminated only by the orange glare from your desk lamp makes you look like you blew all your benefits money on cheap self-tan again. Your diction's gone to pot too: your latest slurred rants are so incoherent that I'm forced to wonder if you've been forced to sniff the cheaper generic brand of Superglue. You've gained weight, I could carry a week's shopping in the bags under your eyes and your posture's so bad you seem to be permanently tilted over at a 45° angle. For the good of your health, Princess, give it a rest before your lifestyle catches up with you!
With sales so low that you're even trying to sell your jeans on the Internet, I've just got to ask you this question, Princess Pixie: who do you have left to blame? Over the past decade, you've blamed all your ills on your ex-roommates, your ex-girlfriend, other writers, liberals, communists, nazis, liberal communist feminazis, homosexuals, pirates, e-pirates, f-pirates, some guy who was looking at you funny, some guy one of your few remaining mates made up. Pixie-Wixie Princess, your retreat from fame and fortune has been outstripped only by your retreat from reality.
During that time you've issued dozens of PayPal demands for increasing amounts: $100, $400, $1,000, $4,000. What's the matter, Pixie-Wixie Princess Peaches? Are you really that hard up? Worried that the benefits payments could dry up any day now? But, you know something, Pixie-Wixie Princess Peachy-poo, I'm prepared to help you. I'm prepared to buy something from you. Something that, later on, you can't claim was e-pirated. The income will be yours, yours alone, some lovely lovely money all of your very own! So how about it?
I'd like to buy your jeans. They've been up for sale for more than two months now, and they're still not taken. I imagine they're smelling a bit musty by now, even if you washed them before you stuck a price tag on them. I don't suppose you could knock a couple of bucks off for that? And they've shrunk. That's got to be another dollar off there, surely. The colour's faded a bit too, that's got to be worth another reduction…
Originally posted to slacknhash.net on February 22, 2008.
