Oscars don’t matter to me. You are the true star of the family.

They may call me a cult member, but you’re the only blanket for me.

You were once New York’s most promising media celebrity. Where’d you go?

I’ve always thought that dialogue only gets in the way of sexy.

You give me hope that my jaunt in the media wilderness will lead to the Promised Land.

I know you’re spending Martin Luther King day writing Obama’s inaugural address. But reading this could change your life.

I only know a handful of your songs, and I like even less. But I love you more than any of your other “fans.”