I've never written a "Dear John" letter before. Mainly, because I never dated a John. I dated a Jon, I think. A "Jeff" was in there, too, I believe and a "Mike". But, never a John.
And this isn't written to a person, but to a group of individuals, who shall, to my best ability remain anonymous. They deserve anonymity, not for their protection, but because I would rather cut off my fingers than direct anyone else to this organization, of which I was once so proud.
So be it.
Dear "board",
You are a thief. You stole my time, my talent and my heart. You wasted my time, prostituted my talent and broke my heart.
You inspired me to corrupt my values, and gave me a chance to settle for incredibly less than I was worth.
Your standard in what consitutes "funny" and "clever" and "witty" is among the cheapest in the industry. And, I certainly bought into it for a time.
No more. No longer. It's not funny, anymore.
It's not funny to joke about the "addiction" of the board, not when it is so perilously close to the truth.
I ache for the good folks left over there. Do me a favor, would you? Call it a last parting gift. Become so incredibly, undeniably low class that you really will repel the very last of those that have any redeeming worth whatsoever.
Let the ones who believe in their own humor, their own values remain there. You are welcome to them. You think they have staying power? Are you sure it's not alcohol perservative? I'm just asking, you understand.
I feel sorry for you. And, I feel sorrier for them.
You took bawdiness with heart to a whole new level. You made it brash and fresh and funny as all get out. Then, just like any strength, you bastardized it by taking it to an extreme. You believe that anything bawdy was to be applauded. You forgot that the reason we love the hooker with the heart of gold is because, hey, she has a heart of gold. There's something of value underneath the startling exterior.
What's underneath YOUR current stock of bawdy? Look closely. Oh, I forgot you did and then you looked away. That's a shame.
Money is great, and granted, the board brings a goodly plenty. Everyone, me included, scampers and fawns over the latest offerings in the "store", makes plans to attend the latest "gatherings" and such. Excellent publicity, and hey! revenue is revenue.
God knows I wish I had more money, that we all had more money, for everyone.
But, I'd like to leave you with this thought. What is the price, the hard cold price, of a women's soul?
And this isn't written to a person, but to a group of individuals, who shall, to my best ability remain anonymous. They deserve anonymity, not for their protection, but because I would rather cut off my fingers than direct anyone else to this organization, of which I was once so proud.
So be it.
Dear "board",
You are a thief. You stole my time, my talent and my heart. You wasted my time, prostituted my talent and broke my heart.
You inspired me to corrupt my values, and gave me a chance to settle for incredibly less than I was worth.
Your standard in what consitutes "funny" and "clever" and "witty" is among the cheapest in the industry. And, I certainly bought into it for a time.
No more. No longer. It's not funny, anymore.
It's not funny to joke about the "addiction" of the board, not when it is so perilously close to the truth.
I ache for the good folks left over there. Do me a favor, would you? Call it a last parting gift. Become so incredibly, undeniably low class that you really will repel the very last of those that have any redeeming worth whatsoever.
Let the ones who believe in their own humor, their own values remain there. You are welcome to them. You think they have staying power? Are you sure it's not alcohol perservative? I'm just asking, you understand.
I feel sorry for you. And, I feel sorrier for them.
You took bawdiness with heart to a whole new level. You made it brash and fresh and funny as all get out. Then, just like any strength, you bastardized it by taking it to an extreme. You believe that anything bawdy was to be applauded. You forgot that the reason we love the hooker with the heart of gold is because, hey, she has a heart of gold. There's something of value underneath the startling exterior.
What's underneath YOUR current stock of bawdy? Look closely. Oh, I forgot you did and then you looked away. That's a shame.
Money is great, and granted, the board brings a goodly plenty. Everyone, me included, scampers and fawns over the latest offerings in the "store", makes plans to attend the latest "gatherings" and such. Excellent publicity, and hey! revenue is revenue.
God knows I wish I had more money, that we all had more money, for everyone.
But, I'd like to leave you with this thought. What is the price, the hard cold price, of a women's soul?
Comments
I love you Jewels!