Dear US Weekly,
I admit I have become enamored with your publication. I eagerly await the arrival of your next issue and devour it whole when it comes. You truly have a talent for exposing celebrities for the no-makeup-wearing, dog-walking freaks they are. You hypothesize about coming breakups and delve into the lurid world of celebrity eating disorders. You make guesses about "'mystery men' and the starlets who love them. You are, on the whole, a great magazine, quenching my thirst for celebrity-related gossip. But must you confuse me so much?
It seems like each week you try wholeheartedly to send me mixed signals. One week it's "'Jessica Tells Nick to MOVE OUT!' and the next it's "'Nick and Jess' Steamy Vaycay Photos!' Must you tug on my heartstrings so? Must you toy with my emotions? It is the same with Mary-Kate Olsen. I see the headline, "'MK Eating Again' and I feel good. "Great," I think. "Mary-Kate is winning her battle against anorexia." But as soon as I feel confident that MK is doing well, I see, "'MK's Friends Worried About Her Health.' I fear my fragile heart can bear no more of this.
Do you get some sort of sick pleasure from my pain? You make me care about people like Nicolette Sheridan and Orlando Bloom, and then crush my heart with insider stories about their latest bout with cocaine or the LAPD. Look, make up your mind, ok? Are Brad and Jen divorced or working it out? Is Lindsay Lohan a victim of the Hollywood machine or an alcohol-crazed bitch? Is Britney pregnant or just overweight? Is Ryan Cabrerra a human or a robot sent from hell to make me kick my TV in? I need you to give me a definitive answer, not tug me one way then another.
I know, I know, you need to sell magazines, right? If you keep changing the story to build tension you'll have more readers. I get it, but that doesn't mean that it's right. I often read back issues of your magazine garnered from friends' bathrooms. Then, at some point later, I will try to drop some information I picked up there. "Did you hear Britney kicked Kevin out?" I'll say ever so smugly only to be rebuked by my better-informed friends. "You idiot, that was last week. This week they're renewing their vows." I hang my head in shame and it's all due to your constant back-and-forth rumor-spreading.
I'm not telling you what to do, but I just wish that you would stick to one story line. This constant back and forth is wearing me down not to mention the people who have been reading you for years. Imagine these folks: good people who only want to be informed about their favorite personalities. These people have endured your meddling since the Jean Benet-Ramsey murder and the Heaven's Gate Cult. I can't even begin to imagine how many angles and revisions you've pitched at them. And every time you change your story, they follow along like sheep in the flock because they don't know any better. Well, I do.
Please, I beg you, stop these practices at once. No more, "Michael Guilty!" followed by "Michael Framed!" No more, "Colin Farrell Hopeless Drunk" followed by "Colin Farrell Caring Father." No more, "Britney's Comeback"" ever. Please, pick an angle and stick with it; my emotions cannot bear any more of you spinnery. You rip through my heart like a whirlwind of lies, forever tainting my hopes that there is pure love, hopeless devotion and steady careers in this world. Please, US Weekly, stop tearing me apart.
Sincerely, Streeter Seidell