To Ms. Zzzzz:

Renee Zellweger, I'm sure you're a nice girl. Then again, I'm not so sure. I just don't want you to take any of what I say personally, although I kind of also hope you will. I just want what's best for you. Then again I don't want you to have what's best—that’s been done. You see, you make me conflicted. I feel sorry for you and that makes me mad because no one should feel sorry for those who have power over them.

I am over that you’re “so honored” to kept in the company you keep. I’ve had it with your generous and thoughtful nods upon announcing who won Best Picture or “Best Actress is a Western/Cop Show”. I cannot swallow another practiced glance into the camera.

It’s not just your affected, overly gracious way of speech and starving, nutrient ridden body that I can't stand. It is your face, too. Your face looks like you just ate a bucket of greasy chicken that's been battered and fried in the stuff they use to make Sour Patch Kids. I know you can't help that, exactly. And you're not an ugly girl. Not at all. Its just that overly affected way you keep your face. I just wish you'd let your face be your face and not try to make it Nicole Kidman’s face. Your face is so tired of having to work so hard. Please, for the love of God, give your face a rest.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate you. When I first saw you in Empire Records, I liked you. After Jerry Maguire, I thought you were adorable. But somewhere during your life’s ride between “Me, Myself and Irene” and “Chicago” you got lost, and subsequently, you lost me. You became a shell of everything that used to be adorable and individual. I am guessing you snorted all that stuff up your nose.

You are a poster child of what celebrity starts to do to people. You, Tom Cruise, Whitney Houston, Leif Garrett, in that order, are a backwards celebrity version of that Evolution of Man drawing. Leif, of course, is the celebrity ape of the group. (Don’t ever put your kids in show business.) You’re not yet a monkey, Renee. Get out now while you can. I suggest a Jodie Foster style retreat. It would do you a big heap of good. Savor the fact that you’re quirky. Stop trying to hide that you’re a total weirdo. Stop doing cocaine. I for one would appreciate it. I’m getting rather sick of not sleeping through the night.