"Shame on you. Shame. On. You."


Today is the day to give it the ol' one-two.

I'd just like to take this opportunity to point my shaky finger at all of you who are out there casting stones at my daughter and say "Shame on you. Shame. On. You."

How dare you? My daughter is only a little girl. She doesn't know any better. Do you not remember the innocence of youth? Did you, when you were a mere 23 years old, always assume that every gun you handled was loaded? Where would you have picked up such life experience at that point? Some hoity toity finishing school? My daughter did not go to any such finishing school, because she's been working.

"Your daughter's a whore," you say, and I say, what gives you the right? To say such a thing? My daughter simply occasionally has sex with classy gentlemen who give her lavish gifts for her time. Does that make her a prostitute? If that means you're a prostitute, doesn't that mean we've all been a prostitute at one time or another? I know I have.

And to those of you who say that my daughter is on drugs, I say, so what? Who are you, Mr or Mrs. High and Mighty? Did you not do drugs when you were growing up? If you didn't, what's wrong with you, were you not some kind of square? And did you not do drugs while you were driving on the freeway? How else were you supposed to get home? Am I right? AM I???? We've all been terribly high on massive amounts of drugs at one time or another, haven't we? Why are you turning on my poor daughter, then?

As for the accusations that my daughter is a thief, well, that's just plain ludicrous. Look at the inside of my daughter's house, which I am invited to every so often. It's filled with jewelry, mink coats, other people's credit cards, and lots of penny candy. Would a poor person who needs to steal keep such things in her home? Absolutely not.

My daughter is insane, you say? I think maybe you're just jealous. I think you're jealous of my daughter's shiny attractive tinfoil hat, and the jars of feces she keeps on her veranda. You wish that you had such nice jars, that people even cared enough about you to ask about your feces collection.

"Look out, your daughter is holding a hostage," you say, and you know what I say to that? I say, talk to the hand, because the head ain't listening. Mmm-hmm.

So just lay off, all right? My daughter just needs her space and her liberty just like any other American girl out there. In the meantime, while you're giving my daughter her freedom, make sure you check out the Myspace profile of my younger daughter! She's only 12 and she is full of tween 'tude. Plus, she wants to meet you and party. I hope you don't mind if I join you.