Dear Tom Cruise,
So, well. Hmm. I just don't know where to begin.
I guess I should start this letter by being honest and saying I never really cared for you in the first place. I remember when my friend in 9th grade decided she LOVED the movie Cocktail and tried to make me watch it. Tom, I couldn't even stomach it then and I was thirteen. I loved Dirty Dancing and the New Kids on the Block, but you, Tom. My immature tastes had already surpassed your mediocre talent.
I remember once when I saw you on Oprah in the 90's. You were there with your cherubic wife, Nicole Kidman (yes, she was sort of cherubic once before she became a botoxed alien who has a weird affinity for effeminate rock and country stars) and Opie talking about Far and Away. You were sort of funny (sort of) and for a brief while I tolerated you. But maybe it was because you were kind of in the background and your big toothy grin and scary Manson lamp eyes were not always thrust into our faces, like they are today.
Now, I seriously just don't know what is up. You scare me and I fear that aliens have taken over your body. I mean, I never thought you were that WITH IT from the start but now....well. All the talk about the silent births and the drugging of kids and the scary laugh. OH MY GOD, THE LAUGH. Seriously. I know you don't like drugs and you think they are SO BAD AND EVIL but you might want to look into taking a valium or maybe just having a cocktail to take the edge off. You are freaking me out, Tom. I feel pretty confident in saying that you are freaking US ALL out. Even Oprah was afraid.
Most of all, Tom, what in the holy name of hell have you done to Katie Holmes? Oh, right, I know - it's "Kate" now. You had to change her name too. Did you put something in her water? Oh, right, I KNOW, you don't believe in drugs. I can't even begin to explain how weird I find the whole Katie/Kate situation. WHAT IS GOING ON THERE? I keep looking at magazines in the supermarket, trying to see a clue in her vacant expression and some kind of hint in her sad caffeinated eyes (I mean the girl is ALWAYS going for coffee. That is going to be one jumpy fetus). But, nope. Nothing. I don't even know what to say about it, Tom! It's all SO WEIRD.
So, now I am thinking this is what you should do. You should take your zombie bride/faux fiancé/WHATEVER and your test tube science baby and go far far away to an island or something. You're wearing us all out. We're tired of seeing you. I don't know ONE PERSON who likes you or finds you to be a good actor. In fact, lately, people have been saying they HATE YOU. And these are people who BELIEVE IN DRUGS so they are already fairly mellow!
Don't go away mad, Tom. Just go away.
Yours,
Emily