Hello Taylor Swift. Its me.
I’m just taking some time away from my cauldron to thank you for the Grammys performance.
It’s great to finally have the video proof that singing talent just isn’t what it used to be.

Did I bet my friends 4 boxes of patchouli incense that I would rock your small world?
Let’s just say that the layer of mist coming towards you isn’t an evil skunk Weather Machine created fog.

What a joy it was to cringe near you as you gyrated and howled! It reminded me of the time I dated a white belt in Karate who had tourettes. I imagine that if you shared dinner the way you ‘share’ a stage, you’d pull the half chewed couscous from my mouth and then make your ‘sexy’ face while stabbing your fork into my neck.
By the way, I can’t make your BBQ party this weekend. I’d made arrangements for a seance that conflicts. I’ll be trying to resurrect your future career.

But in all seriousness, I really do want to thank you for allowing me to be the last person to perform with you. Because after people see the mockery you made of yourself and told me through body language that you wanted me to hide behind the backup singers, no one except maybe Lindsay Lohan will ever come close to you again. And Lindsay will only be approaching you to ask for money and Vagisil.

I have no hard feelings towards you. I hope to see you on page 48 of Teen People striking your best “I’m a down home idiot” pose often.

Oh and you know how people say “Don’t quit your day job?” you should quit your day job.
Pick up a night shift at a Jamba Juice or somewhere you won’t be asked to sing and if you do sing they’ll have a walk in refrigerator they can lock you in.

Yours, Stevie 

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