Open letter to Jon Gosselin
By Janey Pancake
Dear Jon Gosselin,
A word, if you please.
Most of the time, I am very upset that we don’t have cable in our house. I miss a lot of television programming that I would otherwise enjoy watching as a result and it pains me. Of course, there are times when I deeply enjoy the fact that I do not possess cable – to wit, until very recently, I have been fortunate to completely avoid watching your show and the resulting media frenzy that has accompanied the dissolution of your marriage. Sadly, the limitations of my television options have not prevented me from being visually assaulted by your odious visage as your dirty laundry has been airing on the internets and in print in every tabloid available to mankind and – as I like to leave my house on occasion – I am forced to be made aware of your existence.
I know that your time is valuable as you must be wringing your hands over the ever-important issue of which Ed Hardy Tee to wear today, so I will be brief in my request. It’s a simple one, I promise.
Scram. Please. Go away. I don’t care where, just…be gone.
You continue to both bemoan and blame your choices to marry and become a father during the bloom of your twenties as an excuse to relive those glorious lost years in your thirties, fine. I don’t judge. More importantly, I don’t care. I merely ask that you rediscover yourself discreetly.
So, I beg of you, pack your bags – take your earrings and hair plugs and silly, ugly-ass tops and go someplace isolated – but, you know, still fun for you. Douche-y Ass-Hat Island, perhaps? I hear that it is lovely there this time of year and for months to come, so stay a while, if you please.
p.s. Don’t forget to visit your kids on occasion and for the sake of their dignity and what remains of yours, do take care to do so privately.