Dear Winona, I want to say to you that I, like many other fans of yours, am disgusted with the guilty verdict handed down to you by that stupid Bev. Hills Jury for shoplifting that craps from Sacks. First, if anyone has ever been to SFO (Sacks fifth off), they would know just how crappy and cheap all that overpriced junk is. They said you stole a Neiman Marcus (or, as I called it, “Needless Markup”) fur coat. HELLO! You don’t even WEAR fur! Didn’t these fools watch Reality Bites?

I know you were railroaded, Winona, and you probably need a shoulder to cry on or maybe just a sympathetic ear. I am here for you. I know you have a thing for musicians. Guess what? I AM A MUSICIAN! You’re so rich, you could just fly to my shows. And when you go to movie premiers, I could go with you. You live up in that steep canyon near Mandaville (Brentwood). I think the bus goes up that far.

We could go bike riding on Venice Beach or sailing in Marina Del Rey or eat Shack Burgers at the Shack in Playa Del Rey. Or maybe go see Michael Moore’s new film, Bowling for Columbine, in Westwood. We could do whatever you like, Winona, because I think this trial has brought you and me closer together. I know it’s a struggle but I want to struggle alongside you, like Bonnie and Clyde, Burger and Fries, Fish and Chips, Starsky and Hutch, Baretta and Fred, Abbott and Costello, George Michael, and that guy Andrew.

I know how hard relationships are for celebrities. That’s why you need someone like me to keep you “close to the people.” It’ll do wonders for your career. Then, I can start writing songs about you. I could call the album, WINONA. You’ll be immortalized! And then we could buy a home in Montecito and surf in Carpinteria and still be only 90 min. from the Paramount movie set and have our seats held at Spago. Or we could live the simpleton life and hang out on La Brea and Melrose, eat at Pink’s or Antonio’s or grab some ribs at “Pig” or take in an Oki Dog at OKI DOG’S. There’s so much to do, and so much fun to have. I just want you to consider the benefits and think how happy we’d both be, how perfect a union it would become.

So, take your mind away from the verdict and the sentencing. You won’t be going to jail. No one treats my Winona that way. Just relax and I’ll bring you a nice cup of tea so when the senile judge gives you his 2 cents worth, you just smile, look at me, and think about what movie you wanna get at Blockbuster that night. There’s even talk of the judge putting you under house arrest. I say, not a bad idea, as long as it’s MY HOUSE.

love,

Mike Randle