Dear Cojo,
So. It's come to this. I should start, though, by saying that I'm sorry you had all that kidney trouble. When Wikipedia told me just now that your last transplant in 2005 went very well and that you're doing swimmingly, I thought to myself, "How nice, because I was sorry he had all that kidney trouble."
But I'm worried that, BECAUSE of the aforementioned medical drama, maybe people aren't telling you certain truths. Like they're afraid your kidney will get upset. But I am not afraid, and indeed believe that all your internal organs will thank me for pointing this out: I HATE your hair.
No, really. A LOT. The makeup I will forgive, because you are always doing TV and they slather that stuff on with a trowel. Am I thrilled that your outfit looks a bit like the Tin Man dropped some butternut-squash pasta on his neck? No. But mostly, I need to get the hair thing off my chest. Our readers may know Robin Weigert from her work on Life, or Deadwood, but she is nearest to my consciousness because every time I see you, I think to myself, "Why does Robin Weigert have stubble?"
Granted, it used to be worse:
So. It's come to this. I should start, though, by saying that I'm sorry you had all that kidney trouble. When Wikipedia told me just now that your last transplant in 2005 went very well and that you're doing swimmingly, I thought to myself, "How nice, because I was sorry he had all that kidney trouble."
But I'm worried that, BECAUSE of the aforementioned medical drama, maybe people aren't telling you certain truths. Like they're afraid your kidney will get upset. But I am not afraid, and indeed believe that all your internal organs will thank me for pointing this out: I HATE your hair.
No, really. A LOT. The makeup I will forgive, because you are always doing TV and they slather that stuff on with a trowel. Am I thrilled that your outfit looks a bit like the Tin Man dropped some butternut-squash pasta on his neck? No. But mostly, I need to get the hair thing off my chest. Our readers may know Robin Weigert from her work on Life, or Deadwood, but she is nearest to my consciousness because every time I see you, I think to myself, "Why does Robin Weigert have stubble?"
Granted, it used to be worse:
Ordinarily, Cojo, I don't support bleaching the life out of one's hair, but the fact that you've done that since the second photo was taken does at least help me recognize you faster. But I really don't want to believe that hair is your endgame. Do not let it put you in checkmate. Strategize -- or, better, create a diversion and then move the pieces around the board. That's right: cheat. Press onward in search of a better follicular tomorrow. For your own sake, for my sake, and especially for Robin's sake. We don't want her to pull a Britney on us. Peach fuzz cannot be allowed to win the day.
And no, Cojo, I DIDN'T only do this entry so I'd have an excuse to make a joke that we've been giggling about at GFY HQ for the past six months. Why do you ask?
Cheers,
Heather
