Tuesday, July 24th -- 9am: Hey Sweetie, it's dad. Listen, I'm so so so sorry about what happened. I just heard on the news that you had another relapse and checked into rehab again. I can't help but feel partly responsible. But I have always tried to be there for you Linds. Oh, which reminds me...this totally wasn't even why I was calling but while I'm on your machine...I'm in the middle of writing my new book "Mike Lohan: Superdad" and for some reason I'm blanking on years five through ten of your childhood. If you could just get back to me with a few details here and there....it doesn't have to be that extensive, just the sparknotes version would be great. I already have plenty of filler about the first lines we did together right before you hit the set of the Parent Trap.

Dear [Agent Who Formerly Represented Summers]**,

As I write this I am just now recovering from an OCD episode I had several weeks ago. It occurred while I was on the National Live Tour promoting Double Dare 2000. One of the pies got all over my brown suede shoe while at the same time gak squirted into my eye. I couldn't eat or sleep for two days. I wouldn't expect you to know this as you haven't contacted me in over a year and a half. I believe the last time we spoke was when I signed on as an executive producer for the first Double Dare of the new millenium.

You're a shitty agent. I guess I should have seen it coming from a mile away but I was naive. I was a doe-eyed lad eager for superstardom in the field of children's reality television programming and was going to stop at nothing to
attain it. Even if that meant taking on roles which I knew would cause me immense heartache and endless hours in the bathroom washing my hands.

But couldn't you have at least tried to steer me towards something a little less...messy? For chrissake, every potential project that crossed your desk involved some form of slime, gook, pie, mud, dirt, gak, or putty. I need to know, did you hate me? Did you want to see me suffer as that unknowing guest chose to go to the Pie Pod rather than do what it said on the card? Did you enjoy it? I wish you could have gotten inside my head during those moments of despair on the set of "What Would You Do" when all I could wish for was, "Please pick the hidden talent, please pick the hidden talent."

All that said, I respectfully decline your warm and generous offer to sign me up as the host of this upcoming TV Show called "Fear Factor." I just can't see myself participating in a show where the object is to consume as many roaches as possible in two minutes. You know what? Actually, I don't respectfully decline at all. I decline with a vengeance. I will take you down! I will make sure you never live another day without...oh my god...is that Mustard on the carpet...(indecipherable writing).


**Name left out for confidentiality

Two hundred and thirty two years ago someone who was sitting right where you are sitting this very instant got a bill in the mail. The itemized document read like a laundry list of stuff they didn't even order: democracy, Indian removal, teabags. Sure they used some of them, but it wasn't like they asked for anything to begin with. It's kind of like getting a bunch of free Columbia House DVDs in the mail and then finding out six months later that you owe $151.36. I don't even have a job. I mean, how do they think I had all that time to watch the free DVDs in the first place?

Anyway, what ended up happening was your ancestors called up to dispute the claim with the parent company. They were like, "Hey can I speak to your manager? This can't be right. Voting? I don't even do that." And the guy on the other line probably said something like, "Sorry, but we're the only game in town right now. Deal with it." And then hung up the phone.

Then all of the colonists got together for a big meeting and decided that if they were going to get anywhere with this dispute they would have to talk to the King. After all, everyone knows that people named George are the kindest, gentlest, most thoughtful people in the world. Unfortunately, however, this British George happened to be somewhat stubborn and shortsighted. The people were like, "Hey George. I don't really understand why you're charging us so much when we're not even being represented." And George shot back, "What are you talking about? Haven't you ever heard of VIRTUAL REPRESENTATION?"

The truth was that they hadn't. Because it didn't exist. George just made the whole thing up.

Well, I guess you know how the rest of the story goes. Your ancestors were so mad that they went to great lengths to beat the living crap out of those people with the funny accents. There was some bitterness for a hundred years or so but now we're best friends. Sometimes we go for overnight trips together to different exotic places all over the world bringing gifts like Jesus and rainbows.

So, this 4th of July, while you're sitting at home listening to Jamiroquai's smash hit "Virtual Insanity" and engaging in some virtual flirting with your favorite pal on Myspace, could you do me a favor?

Write a check in my name payable to:
Columbia House Company
One Penn Plaza
250 West 34th Street, 5th Floor
New York, NY 10119

It turns out they sent a collection agency for that $151.36 and I don't want to have to go all American Revolution on their ass.

Thanks,
Neil