Hey, it's not like you're middle-aged and paunchy - you guys are only 21, 22, right? What are you so worried about? Just because you're universally despised in your neighborhood and seem to date a succession of losers and layabouts doesn't make you a spinster ... surely there's someone who didn't watch that one tremendous hit you were on.

They say that the super-rich aren't affected by inflation and the rising cost of living, but you sure prove that one wrong, don't you? You're a prime example of the over-leveraged subprime era. Cars! Houses! A $20 million yacht! Well, no one's checked to see where you're crashing lately, but one of the Bentleys you gave away got repoed, and I saw the yacht on E-Bay. Like I said, where did it all go?

To their Skipper and the Professor. Mary Ann doesn't count; she's always listing to port and you know she's spiking her fiber shakes. But the other two, especially the big burly one, still talk down to you. Why does he always belittle you so? What's really behind all that feigned resentment and sexual tension?

You know, if you're not careful you'll all become just another casualty of the business. And what made you think it would be any different? Like any other stage parent, you had your day in the sun, and you never got quite enough of it. Now you're living through your child, and that child has shown more potential than even you thought; she's right on the edge of being all that you never quite were. It's not all she's on the edge of, though; do you realize how quickly this could all be gone?

It's like the song says, "If you feel it, must be real", right? I remember when you first hit the big time. You were a slutty Catholic girl who was the biggest pest on the New York club scene, just wouldn't leave the spin jocks alone until they'd play your songs. It was your image and flair for controversy that made you a star than any musical talent you may have had. You were the original media whore, and you reinvented yourself - successfully - more times than anyone in history.