The new hip-and-with-it trend in communication nowadays is the Open Letter. Unlike plain, ol’ boring letters–which you would compose on a piece of paper with a writing instrument, fold it up, put it in an envelope, spit on the nasty glue to seal it shut, address the front of the envelope, affix $1.00 worth of stamps because you’ve lost track of how much postage costs and it’s better to be safe than sorry after all the trouble you’ve gone through, put it in a mailbox, and then have it delivered to your recipient a few days later–Open Letters are simply typed up on a computer and posted on a website for the recipient to read…along with the rest of the online community.

(Can I get an award for Run-On Sentence of the Day? Because that up there was cash money.)

I know some of you uncool folk are all, “that’s really dumb; you’re so lame, Sylvia, for thinking it’s trendy,” but that kind of thinking is exactly why I teach Coolness Lessons and you don’t. Open Letters are totally hot because celebrities like Roseanne Barr, Candy Spelling, the guy who produces “Girls Gone Wild”, and Adrianne Curry have all done it–and these aren’t just A-list celebrities, my friends, these are F-List icons. And they are at the top of the Stardom List–if you turn it upside-down, of course.

And why not use the Open Letter viewable by all instead of the regular letter viewable by only one? I think it makes a lot of sense, considering the dangers involved with traditional letters. I mean, what if you sent it to the wrong address and had it returned to you? That $1.00 worth of stamps would be wasted, and then you’d have to use another $1.00 to send the letter to the correct address–which might turn out to be another wrong address! And then you’d end up in a vicious cycle of trying to send the damn letter out over and over again–you could easily spend one million dollars on stamps!

It’s even more dangerous for famous people. Like, what if Roseanne wrote Britney Spears a personal letter in which she scolded her for being a horrible mother who was no better than a crack whore on the street, and the media got its hands on it? The letter would be published in various credible news sources, like Star Magazine, for millions of people to read. This would be worse than if Roseanne just posted the letter on her blog, which is only viewed by 3 people–one of whom is probably Britney Spears, right? Otherwise, how would she ever know Roseanne wrote her a letter? You mean she wouldn’t and this is all just a cheap publicity stunt? No, no–you just go to Hell! Roseanne doesn’t need a publicity stunt because she’s too famous for that! She’s known for…hmm…oh! she does that cooking show on Food Network…wait, no, that’s Rachel Ray…

In any event, Open Letters are the way to go if you want anyone to hear you out. Chances are it will be read by someone who knows someone, who knows someone, who kind of knows someone…(100 “who knows someone’s” later) who knows the person you wrote to and will let him or her know about it. That’s not just effective communication, people, that’s effectively ineffectively cool.

Since I am on top of trends, I wrote my own Open Letter so you can see coolness in action. Check it out!

Dear Ronald McDonald:

You are being completely unfair by refusing to put me in your next commercial even though I’ve been whoring myself to you like you asked. You said it would be hot if I dressed up as a sexy Grimace and sat on your lap while you watched Fry Guy porn, so I did. You said that I should toss your new line of salads while singing the “I’m Lovin’ It” song, and I did that too. And when you told me you wanted me to milkshake wrestle all the McNugget buddies wearing nothing but burger patties and a leaf of iceberg lettuce, I did that without complaint and I even won because I accidentally ate the buddies. You know you owe me, Ronnie, and I am going to collect or else I will show everyone the video tape of you, the King, and Jack having a threesome. That’s right, I saw it on your sesame bun table and I took it. It was me!

So don’t bother trying to give me anymore Happy Meal toys because I only pretended to like them, and I don’t want anymore Monopoly stickers because the “free hamburger” sticker doesn’t even include the Angus burgers! Don’t clown me anymore, clown, or you’re going to be sorry.

Sylvia

    Some guy in the Netherlands believes that in the near future robots will become so lifelike that humans may end up falling in love and marrying them. I don’t find that to be a very attractive forecast, but not because of the unnaturalness of robot love. I’m more turned off by the human that would have to resort to artificial intelligence for affection: the online-video game obsessed, socially-inept, Jabba-the-Huts who know everything there is to know about elves and orcs but couldn’t find their way out of a paper bag. Mr. Netherlands knows what I’m talking about; he even said that those “who find it hard to form relationships, because they are extremely shy, or have psychological problems, or are just plain ugly or have unpleasant personalities,” would benefit most from getting down with a robot.

    I’m not taking this guy’s prediction seriously, but if we were ever capable of creating such realistic robots that people wouldn’t look like sexual deviants if they were seen in public with their robot-lover, I’d still have to pass on it. Sure, I could buy a robot boyfriend who was extremely hot and program him so that we’d have the same interests, beliefs, level of intelligence, etc., but I don’t find any of that appealing at all. It just sounds boring. And although I prefer people to support me when I say that I am so perfect that I poop gems and my farts can cure diseases–I appreciate it when someone tells me to my face that he disagrees with me and why. And if he can actually convince me that I’m wrong and put me in my place then he’s automatically way more attractive than some robot. Having an opposing point of view every now and then can be quite beneficial–but don’t try to convince me that the key to world peace isn’t a McDonald’s Happy Meal because I’ll just cut you.

    Besides, women don’t want to have to ask for compliments–we want men to say things because they mean it. Can you imagine the dialogue in a robot-woman relationship?

ROBOT MAN: I love you.

HUMAN WOMAN: No, you don’t. You’re just saying that because I programmed you to. You don’t love me at all!

ROBOT MAN: Yes, I do. And you don’t look fat in those jeans.

HUMAN WOMAN: Liar!

    And then the robot self-destructs because that’s what it was programmed to do when the human woman decides to end the relationship.

   More downsides to robot-human love:

1. Whatever gift your robot gives you will probably have been purchased using your money–because your robot doesn’t have a job (working is reserved for labor robots).

2. People who program their robots to compliment them will eventually stop caring about their hygiene and appearance because their robot lovers have turned into their robot enablers by consistently telling their human “you are sexy” when it should be saying “you are a sow.”

3. Ever seen “The Matrix”? Robots want to look like octopi, not humans, and are going to punish us by throwing us all into pods of goo. What’s worse is that the savior is going to turn out to be some loser like Keanu Reeves. Hell to the no.

    The only robot I would want around me is a slave robot. Yes, I would want an entourage of attractive, male robots who do nothing but cook and clean and whatever else slaves should do. And they should also have weapon-limbs so that they can protect me…oh, and also sneeze candy. Now that would be a kick a** robot.

 Happy Birthday, Loretta!

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Before Bishop Museum

After Bishop Museum…