A Letter to Lindsay Lohan:

Dear Lindsay,

I write this to you today not as a fan, but as a concerned human being who does not enjoy watching a train wreck. I am tired of you gumming up my beloved Us Weekly with your weekly tragedies. Between the partying, the numerous jaunts to the emergency room, the scathing letters from movie producers and famous Hollywood actors criticizing your poor work ethic, it's time to do yourself a favor and leave this life behind. Now, before you truly hurt yourself. I can see where this is all heading, and it ain't good.

Now I don't blame you for this. Not entirely anyway. I am certain that your mother, Dina, shoved you into this glitzy, glamorous life in a desperate attempt to live vicariously through you. She is perpetuating this downward spiral in the most horrid of motherly fashions. For a woman who calls herself "the white Oprah" she is certainly not allowing you to find your spirit. And I think the real Oprah would have something to say about that. And your dad, with his drug problems and prisons sentences and trying to steal your millions, surely isn't giving you the father figure that you and your siblings deserve. Your parents are money-grubbing dirtbags and for that, my heart goes out to you.

You're young, I get that. You like having a good time and what not, and you most certainly are allowed to make mistakes. But with these mistakes, you are losing whatever talent 10-year-old girls think you have (and some others, but I don't wish to debate this now), and are quickly becoming what every famous person fears, a Hollywood cliche. It's not too late. You are on the brink, but you don't have to jump off the ledge. Please heed my advice.

Save yourself. Skip the cushy, flashy stint in famous person rehab, which only spits you back out into the same destructive society, and go directly to a remote town in Iowa or somewhere and fade off into obscurity.

And ask Tara Reid to go with you.

Signed,
Me