Dear Show Business Journalism,
Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Sam Wasson, I’m a Los Angeles native, and I’ve been following you for sometime. Years ago, after a solid decade of really admiring your progress, I began to wonder if something was going wrong. For a long time I didn’t want to say anything, but now I must admit I’ve begun to panic.
You see, Show Business Journalism, I saw this video (above), and I realized you really have devolved into snide remarks from girls making unfunny jokes about dead celebrities. When did this happen? I wonder, do you remember an exact moment? If so, what were you doing? We’re you out of town? Asleep? I don’t mean to pry – it’s just that I haven’t heard from you in some time and I want to make sure you’re okay.
And while I have your attention, I have to ask you, when did Lillian Ross’s profession become Chelsea Handler’s? I mean, when did Hollywood cede into The Valley? It’s okay if you don’t have the answer, but honestly, Show Business Journalism, I’m starting to get a little embarrassed when sports writers ask me what I do for a living!
I know coming to you for advice is a little bit like writing to Santa Claus, but I really don’t know what else to do.
If you are dead (as I suspect you might be), would you do me the favor of passing along this note along to Paddy Chayefsky? Thanks! Please tell him that I just looked outside and no one in Venice, California is throwing open their windows and screaming into the night. If you get a chance, ask him if I should scream. I’d be more than happy to. Also, ask him if “I’m mad as hell” etc is still his scream of choice, or if he’d like to rewrite the line for 2010. Something tells me “I feel nothing and I’m not going to take it anymore!” might rouse contemporary masses, though paradoxically, I’d wager those who feel nothing would take anything, i.e. Furry Vengeance.