I’m writing in to support my friend Harvey Weinstein. I know that what he was accused of doing was technically “wrong”, whatever that means, but let’s be honest here. Look at Harvey. Would any of these women (hell, would any woman?) even give him the time of day if he didn’t wield some sort of power over them? I feel sorry for the poor guy, it’s like being a kid in a candy shop, lookey lookey but no touchy.
I can empathize with Harvey because I had a bit of a scandal myself a few years back. I know what I did was technically “unconventional”, but again, let’s be honest here. What guy doesn’t fantasize about adopting an Asian baby, raising her to near adulthood, and then dumping Mia Farrow for her? It’s like the ultimate fuck you to Mia Farrow, and I guess society, too. So who can blame me for that?
Please let me know whatever I can do to help Harvey. Even if I have to adopt another Asian baby and raise her to near adulthood, I’m willing to do that. Frankly, the time to do that might be a bit overdue. Or anything else I can do, just let me know.
Dear Woody Allen,
The only thing you can do to help your pal Harvey Weinstein is to comfort him in the quarantined hospital ward after I inflict you both with a highly contagious incurable dick rash that burns your skin off from tip to nuts. There will be others like the two of you, but they’ll blame you guys for the affliction and will be trying to make your final moments on earth extremely unpleasant by disemboweling you. You’ll probably want to steer clear of those guys. I suggest you and Harvey hole up in his room, move the bed in front of the door and wait for the agonizing death that will follow from the dick rash. In those last moments, I won’t hold it against you if your thoughts wander to that twisted night where you first fornicated with your adopted daughter and damned yourself to eternal torment. In fact, this memory will be torture in itself because your flaming pecker will make masturbation all but impossible. Meanwhile, Harvey will be dealing with his own painful memories as he begs for the sweet release. Most likely he’ll be thinking about the time he sexually harassed Gwyneth Paltrow and afterward was confronted by her boyfriend Brad Pitt. That memory is particularly troubling for him because Brad’s seething anger gave ole’ Harvey a rather confusing boner. When you and Harvey are holding each other in a terrified embrace, sitting there in a puddle of your own piss, maybe you can let him know that his being cast into hell has nothing to do with these gay thoughts he had for Brad and everything to do with all the harassment and the rape he committed. I’d tell him myself, but his lawyer is screening his calls and won’t let me talk to him.
—Jesus the Merciful
Dear Woody Allen,
I’m a huge fan, and I look forward to meeting you. I’m not supposed to tell you about your tortures until you actually get here, but I’m too excited to wait. Oh, there’s going to be so many good ones, I don’t even know where to begin. Ok, how about this: Soon-Yi will be in the middle of giving you a blowjob. You’ll look down at her and suddenly she’ll morph into Frank Sinatra. Why Frank Sinatra? I think you know why. Anyway, that’s just one of the tortures. Others will involve Soon Yi morphing into various other people while giving you blowjobs. Member of this club will include a half goat/half Richard Nixon monster, a two-headed walrus with one Yoko Ono head and one Sonny Bono head, a robot version of yourself and (worst of all) your ex Mia Farrow. There’ll probably be some non-Soon-Yi tortures, too, but I want you to be at least a little surprised when you get here. OK, see you soon. Enjoy the dick rash!
—Satan the Jovial
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