Dear New York,
Hey. How you doin’? I haven’t heard from you in a while and…well, I just wanted to check in. I guess you’ve been pretty busy. Same here, same here….
Listen, I know it’s not a great time for you right now. Winter’s coming on, and even with all the nice leaves on the trees, I know you’re worried about the months and months of wind and rain and snow and darkness ahead. I understand that you’ve got financial worries, too–hell, you’re paying $20 to see artwork you’ve been used to seeing for free. And I won’t even mention the subject of baseball. I’m so, so sorry.
I just want you to know that I’m here for you. I’m sure that sounds insincere coming from me, but just the same, it’s very true. We’ve had some great times together, you and I. Some rough ones, too, but hey–water under the bridge. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you feel better.
All I ask in return is that you send me Frank Rich. On his knees. With a wedding ring. (What’s with that look? We’ll take a trip to Boston.)
I know what you’re thinking: he doesn’t swing my way. Just trust me, I know what I’m doing.
If Frank’s unavailable, that’s cool. I understand. You can send me Derek Jeter instead. I’ll make do.
So call me. Seriously, call me. Or email, I’m pretty good with that. I’ll put some nice chicken soup on to boil, okay? Talk to you soon.
Love,
Richard
P.S. If Derek’s not available either, I could handle Jon Stewart. You know I’ve got a “thing” for him to begin with, and to clinch the deal, last night he used the term “MILF Hunting” on national television.
sturtle [dot] com 