Dear Carlos Santana

Dear Mr. Santana:

¿Oye como va? While I generally like most of your music, your absurd line of tacky, overpriced, hooker shoes leaves a lot to be desired. Seriously, what in the name of Manolo Blahnik qualifies you to design women's shoes anyway? Hmm? Can I get in on that action? For reals.

Signed,
I'd Rather Be Shoeless Than Look Like A Ten-dollar Whore

Dear Billy Joel

Dear Mr. Joel:

You suck ass.  You have got to be the least-talented, yet most-overrated, musician of your generation.  Every time I hear Captain Jack, Only the Good Die Young, or that Brenda Renetti song, I my internal organs start to desiccate and I want to shove drywall screw anchors into my ears.

On second thought, maybe I'll just get a rifle and snipe you.

You are easy enough to find, being a horrible, misshapen lush.  I'll just look in a local, New York rehab or maybe see which car is wrapped around the nearest tree.  It will most likely be yours.
Although, I can't blame you.  If I were you, I'd try to wrap my car around a tree too.  Please die soon.

Signed,
A fan  (NOT)