Friday, May 9, 2008

Dear John Mayer,


You don't know me, but I know you. I understand what you're going through. I want to help you. You spent your life trying to get into the limelight. You achieved your goal of being slightly popular with 12-year-old girls and 14-year-old boys that “feel a lot" but don't have a good excuse to be pissed off. So you sing your songs about kissin, lovin, huggin, dancing, prancin and all that other whitebread fun.

Then you looked at your life and thought, "I wanted to say something of significance. I wanted to be the best sensitive white guy with an acoustic guitar ever." You released more albums. You gained more adoring adolescent fans. You felt even emptier.

I can fix you John Mayer.

First, stop showering. This may seem like a drastic move but it is necessary. Second, wear only one set of clothing for each week at a time. You should at times substitute a sundress for your ripped 501 Levis. Third, get addicted to something taboo, like absinthe. Fourth, maintain this lifestyle for at least one full calendar year. Finally, try and fix all of these problems along with the problem of being a pansy while recording an album with a grotesque cover and a nonsensical title... I smell a hit! (John, this worked for Curt Cobain. It will work for you.)