Friday, October 29, 2010

An Open Letter To Taylor Swift Concerning Her Status As A Celebrity And The Fleeting Benefits Of Morality

Dear Taylor,

Congratulations. You're doing great. Everyone loves you, you're super charming and, especially since that Kanye West debacle, you own a very special key to the nation's collective heart. Way to go.

But you're getting up there in your years and will be 21 this December (can you believe it?), so odds are the whole "gangly, over-eager teenage sweetheart" schtick you've got going for yourself may have its days numbered. Not that it's a bad schtick by any means -- it won over America, so it's got to have something going for it -- but we're a petty culture with little patience for goodie two-shoes 20-something female pop stars. I know, I know, it's sexist and age-ist but these are the realities we're dealing with. Soon they're gonna want to see your chest and the tabloids will start talking about how you're a huge cocaine addict or are probably pregnant or something. It's too bad, it's not fair, but that's just the way we treat our celebrities after a while. Sorry.

So here's some advice: Beat 'em to it. Start making out with models -- men and women alike -- at after-hours clubs in Hollywood, shave your head and buy a leather jacket. But don't change the music. Keep that the same, just re-do your public image to beat the internet trolls at their own game. Come out of left field and give 'em all what they never expected but will never stop gossiping about. Call it a celebrity pre-emptive strike or just call it being 21 years old. The nerds at Oh No They Didn't will never know what hit them.

And not only would you get to beat them at their own game, but it would also be the greatest piece of performance art this side of Andy Kaufman. Joaquin Phoenix would look like child's play. You could be Courtney Love mixed with Justin Beiber or, well, Taylor Swift, except no one will think you're sad and out of touch. You could be an object of both scorn and desire, like the best of celebrities. The New Yorker would probably do a profile of you. And think of how jealous Lady GaGa would be. Dresses made of meat don't compare to 21-year-olds with hearts of gold and bodies of trash.

Anyway, that's just a piece of advice from me to you. Think about it. You've got some time, you're still young...just not that young. See what happened to Lindsay? Or what they're doing to Miley Cyrus? It's a short, fickle public we have here. Make the most of it, kid. If nothing else it will be lots of fun. I promise.

<3 Your Biggest Fan,

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