A letter to Glenn Beck

Hello again Glenn,

I'm talking like...40x mor chalkboards

I heard you’re leaving your cushy program on Fox News to venture upward to the next level. Let me be the first to wish you luck on this bold journey. Quite ballsy I must say. I get that you want move out papa Murdoch’s house, but it defeats the purpose if he’s still paying your rent. Have you taken big-brother O’Reilly’s feelings into consideration? Probably not, but he’s used to doing the legwork of the house while you continue this futile feud with those boys over at Comedy Central. Time to face the facts; you’re not on their level. When you try to be funny, though some may get it, you come off as crazy. I hate to be the one to have to tell you, but I’m only looking out for you. Before I took the time to actually watch your show, I wanted to know where you got your drugs from. I understand that’s a touchy subject for you, given your previous battle with addiction. I also respect you for being on top of that instead of letting it go untreated like Limbaugh.

Knock it off or I'll give you something to cry about.

Back to the point, what do you want to do with your new “independent” project? I hope it’s more chalkboards, and less crying. I am legitimately excited to see how you perform, as I am also sure many people will want to see you fail. I personally couldn’t care either way, but if I were in your shoes, I would use that as an incentive to spite those that bet against you.

Give ‘em hell kid,

Your neighbor (F.C. Zamani)

A Letter to Sean Penn (Bro-tastic Edition)

Dear Sean,

Only you man. Only you could be the suave sonofabitch that swooped up Scarlett Johansson on the rebound! Her and Ryan Reynolds split last December bro! That’s cold-blooded dawg. But hey, fair game is fair game and you bagged the fairest maiden around. I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same if I were in your shoes.

Think about it homie, not many dudes can upstage Ryan Reynolds’ game(or  charm for that matter); but somehow you managed to weasel your way in. I gotta give props where it’s due, mad props. I haven’t seen such sweet cradle-robbin’ since Mike Douglas and Catherine Zeta.

They say never go "full-retard", but who's laughing now?

I totally get it dude, you two just made it official recently and you’re shamelessly peacocking hard while showing the world that your junk still functions. From what my boys tell me, the general rule of dating, age-wise goes as follows: X= your age, Y = their age, ½ (X) +7=Y. If my math is correct, you’re fifty, and she is 26; so… yeah. But look, I’m not judging, it’s not like she’s a minor and you’re R-Kelly or anything. Although, I guess you could say I’m a little butt-hurt about it. You snagged my dream girl bro, not cool. If she traded up for an older dude, what hope does a schmuck like me have?

Heck, I’d love to be the “refined” older guy someday; but I’m far too impatient for that noise. As far as I can tell, you got your ducks in a row and lovin’ life. Who am I to hate on that? If anything, you deserve the academy award for most ballin’, blingin’, big-dick swingin’ cat in the game!

Play on Playa,

Ya Boy

(F.C. Zamani)

A Letter to Christopher Walken

Dear Mr. Walken,

Young and dapper

I would like to start by wishing you a happy birthday! I recently watched The Deer Hunter for the first time and let me just say… I can see why you won an Oscar for that particular role. You’re résumé is quite impressive, sir. With more than 100 films under your belt, I would consider you one of the most (if not the most) hardworking actors in the game. At 68 years-old, I could only hope to have a smidgen of your momentum. I’m impressed that you haven’t slowed down, that demonstrates your true love for acting. I can appreciate the fact that you don’t limit yourself very much in terms of choosing outlets.





You have no trouble being a wise guy, a funny man, military personnel, or anything else thrown your way. My real admiration for you began when I saw you on SNL as Colonel Angus returning from the war. I like to think I’m good at celebrity impressions, but your speech pattern is so unique that I can’t come close. I would pay good money to hear you narrate an encyclopedia.

I would also go as far to say that if I end up writing a book, I would like to hire you for the audio book narration if you’re not busy. For an aged gentleman, I noticed in the Fatboy Slim music video you’re still quite spry, and you got some groovy dance moves to boot. Mr. Walken, for your birthday I hope you get all the cowbell your heart desires. Keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll outlive Charlie Sheen and the rest of the riffraff.

Focused and refined

Take Care,

Your Eye on the Street

(F.C. Zamani)

A Letter to Charlie Sheen (Redux)

The Warlock also known as Sheen

Dear Charlie,

            You son of a bitch! You had a briefcase full of cocaine and you didn’t bother calling me? Shit, I’m glad you got caught. After all the shit I’ve done for you, I’m still somehow left out. Do you know the extent of how hard it is to get “goddess” blood off a car seat? Obviously not. From here on out, don’t call me in the middle of the night to be bailed out of whatever jam you’re in. Oh, and remember when you were bitching about your career moving to television? I’m the one who told you this role was made for you, then all you had to do was show up and POW! Now you have more money than you know what to do with; which I suppose isn’t the best thing, seeing how you’re shitting all over Los Angeles a complete lack of disregard for those around you. Kicking it with pornstars was such a 90’s thing man! Show some class! Emilio won’t even return your phone calls he’s so ashamed.

You look how I feel

     Nobody’s fooled with your recent at-home rehab; we all know it’s just a formality but you could at least pretend to take it seriously, you are an ACTOR after all. So Mr. Moneybags, what’s your next move? Seeing how you got canned from the show, I imagine you can retire to some island where they fly in prostitutes for you; we all know you have the cash for it. But no, you’re going on some tour, charging $60 a ticket to hear you ramble on. Back in the day you had to pay people to hear you ramble on one of your coke binges, and you’d typically supply the chalk. You broke my trust; all I wanted was to do was kick it and do some blow with you, like we used to. You need me whenever you’re in a bind, but when everything’s peachy I get no call from you. You’re being an inconsiderate prick, and I can’t hang out with you anymore; mainly because my real friends say you’re a bad influence. You’re flying off the handle and I enjoy watching it.

Bite me,

A Disgruntled Friend