An open letter to Justin Timberlake…

Dear Justin,

I’m writing to let you know that, while I appreciate the thought, I actually am not OK with the Sexy being brought back. And yes, this is probably a little late to tell you. Sure, the Sexy was delivered as promised, on Saturday night, and I had ample warning. All I had to do was look at the internets, and I would have known that Excel Energy Center was ground zero for a Thermonuclear Sexy-plosion. The problem is, I was trying to watch the Minnesota Rollergirls next door.

Justin, J.T., bro, I’m not here to argue about whether or not the Sexy needed to be brought back. And I won’t rag on your qualifications to deliver said Sexy on time and in one piece. I’ll leave that out completely. My issue is with the collateral damage your Sexy Express wrought. You see, St Paul is generally a beautiful town, a perfect setting for the receipt of the Sexy; except in January. It was approx –14 degrees with wind-chill(wind-chill is like when you’re looking hot, and then you put on a really expensive tuxedo jacket over your hoodie, it makes it that much more intense, you understand?) and every restaurant, pub and club within 3 block of the venue was crowded 14yr old girls and their moms, waiting for you and the Sexy. Again, I’m not going to question with one of them you were bringing the Sexy to; God knows the moms could use some Sexy.

So you see, I ended up wandering through the cold, windy streets of St Paul with my Wife and two friends, ending up in a hotel café several blocks from my desired location. While the food was good, I can’t help but wonder what we would have been doing had the Sexy not been brought that specific night. And because of that, J.T., I must make you my Nemesis.

Some might say that Nemesis is a harsh word, they are wrong. According to Webster, it means: a : one that inflicts retribution or vengeance b : a formidable and usually victorious rival or opponent. Pretty simple and clear cut, although I prefer the definition given by Brick Top, in the movie Snatch: A righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an appropriate agent. Personified in this case by an ‘orrible (expletive deleted)… me.

You see, J.T., I am that horrible expletive deleted. I will go out of my way, at every turn, to thwart you.

But you ask, in your faux ghetto slang, learned from a voice-coach years ago, “How dis foo gonna ruin my life-uh?” Good question. The answer: I don’t know. But I will. If I see your poster somewhere, I will tear it down. If I see you on TV, I will change the channel. If I see or hear an ad selling anything directly or indirectly endorsed by you, I will not take heed of its offer. And if I hear your dulcet tones polluting the air anywhere near me, I WILL SHUT YOU OFF.

You could argue that I’m blowing this out of proportion, that this is all just a scheduling error that effected one night only. But what of the lasting consequences? Just how many lives have been ruined by the Sexy? The US Government requires a multitude of tests and surveys be performed before a new building or industry can be built, just for the environmental impact. But you, you brought the Sexy back, but then you left. We have to deal with whatever lingering issues will come, over time, of the Sexy. And that is your crime.

Sincerely,

Your Nemesis

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~ by thecox on January 30, 2007.

One Response to “An open letter to Justin Timberlake…”

  1. […] Not hard enough to kill him, just enough so that he never sings… ever.”  Unlike my nemesis, death and destruction is not necessary.  They could continue in their current level of comfort […]

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