Gotcha! This isn't really an open letter to "the haters." I'm not even sure who "the haters" are, although there are certain people out there who like to refer to this nebulous group of vengeful people whenever possible. These individuals find themselves so important and controversial that they believe there is a troupe of dissenters out there whose mission is to willfully detest their every move. I hate to say it, but if you're not Beyonce or Hillary Clinton or LeBron James or someone of similar notoriety, this is almost surely not the case.

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Dear Dog,

Ugh. I know "ugh'" isn't really an appropriate way to begin a letter. But ugh. I don't really have much to write to you. I'm not necessarily surprised by your fondness for the word "nigger," not only because I can't imagine the bounty hunting profession is one that requires much in the way of racial sensitivity, but also because, well, I don't know. You sort of seem like the type.

The reason I don't feel like I have much to write to you is because I don't think you're particularly special. I mean, you have a reality show, sure. But it's nothing I have ever caught myself watching. And I watch a lot of television. So that says something. You're also definitely a racist, even if you want to deny it to save your job. But that's certainly not special. Guys like you come a dime a dozen. So you can drop "alohas" and deliver canned apologies and meet with Al Sharpton and hold press conferences and maybe even get your job back in the end. But you'll only have done those things to save your livelihood. Not to "cure" your racism.

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Dear Sen. Obama,

I'm sure this isn't my last letter to you, but I would have preferred my first to be written under more auspicious circumstances. It's not a secret that I support you, although I haven't decided if I'm going to vote for you come February. No matter what I decide, I will probably always like you because of what you represent, as both a politician and a man.

Your recent scandal involving Donnie McClurkin has been disappointing, not entirely because of the fact that you invited him on your gospel tour (I assume if you had anticipated or understood the reaction you would get, you would not have done it), but mostly because of the way you have handled the subsequent backlash. If "handle" can even be the word. Everything you've done since — your dinky Web site statement on gay rights, the addition of a white gay minister to the tour, and your last ditch interview with the Advocate — have sort of screamed of political incompetence.

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Dear T.I.,

So jail, huh? Not to rub salt in, but I guess you're sort of used to it by now. But that's where I'm confused. Considering your history with the penal system, I would think that you would be a little more careful about actions that might get you thrown back into it. Like, maybe you could have had someone else pick up the guns you had your bodyguard illegally procure. Or maybe you could have just not bought them at all, particularly if, as some claim, your interest in machine guns with silencers ("no flash, no bang," right?) was purely from a "collector's" standpoint. You don't sound like a gun collector in this verse from your song, "Live in the Sky."

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Dear Janet Jackson,

No reason. Just 'cause.

Well, that's a lie. You do have a movie coming out this weekend, and you've been making lots of headlines for your drastic weight loss (again! All that yo-yoing can't be healthy, J), and for putting out fires, and for promising she's not married to Jermaine Dupri (we've all heard that before, J), and for having an awkward interview on the CW, and — well, these sorts of things always occur when you have a movie coming out. Speaking of your movie, I hope it does well. We are seriously lacking in positive black films. Knowing Tyler Perry's history, I'm pretty sure it will.

Anyway, I guess I am just writing to say good luck — your career could use this pick-me-up, honestly. Oh, and you're really pretty in person, not all plastic-surgeried-looking like I expected.

Also, I hope your brother Jermaine gets his shit together. He was my first crush.

Love,

Lauren

An Open Letter To Primary School Teachers,

You have a hard job. I know a couple of current and former elementary school educators, and the stories you guys have! It takes a lot of energy, plus it's a pretty big responsibility, trying to shape young minds even if the information you are paid to give them runs directly counter to whatever they're being taught at home.

I'm not a teacher myself, so I hope you don't think I'm out of line if I offer you a few words of advice. See, I've learned some things in this past week. And although I am not sure I am equipped to tell you what you should do with your class, I do have a few ideas about what you shouldn't.

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Dear Bill O'Reilly,

I wondered about this letter. I might have said all I needed to say to you in previous posts. And even that might have been too much. There's really no reasoning with an egotistical maniac liar who has made a career out of being a bully.

As I said yesterday in in a post about Diddy (not a gangster rapper, incidentally, but I'm sure you would call him that if given the opportunity), that most people don't get to a high level of success by being nice. In your case, you got to where you are by not really telling the truth and building a reputation as a belligerent curmudgeon who is hateful to anyone that dares disagree with you.

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Dear Republican Presidential Candidates,
I'm not talking to all of you, of course. Really, this letter is directed toward the ones that matter — Rudy Giuiliani, John McCain, Mitt Romney, and Fred Thompson. Incidentally, you four, the ones that matter, are also the most popular candidates and the exact same ones choosing to forgo Tavis Smiley's black-issues debate. Why is that?

Well, there's the obvious reason. Black people don't vote for you, particularly in the primaries, so why should you worry about our issues when you could be kissing ass at the NRA convention? This doesn't bother me as much as the fact that you don't even care to either disguise your obvious disinterest in a large percentage of the country you hope to govern or attempt to change the minds of a group of people that have very little faith in you. Look, everyone has a part of their job they don't particularly like, but that doesn't mean they don't have to do it.

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Dear J. Reed Walters,

Can I call you J.? I know that you're kind of a big deal in the minuscule corner of the world where you live, and you probably expect the courtesy of Mr. Walters. Or maybe District Attorney Walters. But not only do I feel you to be totally undeserving of that level of courtesy from me or anyone else, I think J is kind of a cool letter. It's the opener for a lot of interesting words.

1. Justice.

2. Jail.

3. Juveniles.

4. Jena.

Being the district attorney of LaSalle Parish, where the infamous town of Jena is located, you should be well-acquainted with those four words, although you have an infirm grasp on the meaning of the first one, a flippant view of the second, a disbelief that there is such a thing as being tried as the third if the youths in question are black, and a complete and total lack of respect for the denizens of the fourth. Because before you decided to charge the six black boys who participated in a school yard brawl with attempted murder, as adults no less, no one had heard of Jena or you. And by that I mean, no one would know what a back woods, fucked-up town Jena, La. is, and no one would know what a racist, mentally unqualified embarrassment you are.

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Dear VH1,
Some people want to boycott you because your "reality" shows, like Flavor of Love, I Love New York, and Charm School, portray black people, specifically black women, in a negative light. I don't blame them. I mean, the people on those shows are pretty awful. Even you have to admit that. I won't be boycotting you, because, as that whole BET controversy may have shown you, I have a hard time boycotting Viacom channels. No will power.

Although there's nothing on your channel right now that I am currently addicted to, there could be in the near future. Plus, sometimes you have those America's Next Top Model marathons. I like those. So, no boycott. But I can be critical. Those shows suck. Sure tons of people watch them — tons of people I know watch them — but I haven't been able to stomach an episode since that girl took a shit on the floor. Quality television it ain't.

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Dear Polow,

I thought about just ignoring you, since two posts in a week on someone who, let's face it, should really be keeping his ass behind the scenes making beats and not speaking, should have been more than enough. The more the people respond to your idiocy (disguised as intellectual truth) the more important you will think you are. And you're not, really. At all. But I had to say something. I am a black woman, after all.

A very astute reader (what's up honee!) said that her grandmother always used to say that a fool with a little bit of education is dangerous. Now, I wouldn't call you dangerous (I'd downgrade it to annoying), but you are the perfect example of the guy who reads a book or has a couple of experiences and thinks he knows the truth about the world. The truth about black women. Sorry, Polow. You don't know the truth about me or anyone I know. So…why don't you go make a beat for Fergie or something, and leave the race and gender lectures to people who actually know what the hell they're talking about.

Pardon my sass. It's just the way I was raised.

Sincerely,

Lauren

Dear Foxy Brown,

I hate to start out with an insult, but the craziest thing about your notoriety in the media these days is the fact that you are not, and haven't been in ages, famous. You are, in the sense that random people know your name, but you certainly aren't famous for your music, which, despite the fact that you recently signed a new record deal, seems to have been put on the back burner in recent years due to all of your anger-related mischievousness. And the sudden deafness, of course. My point is, you are now a member of the Paris Hilton school of being famous for bad behavior. And I'm telling you right now — it's not a good school.

Now you're pregnant and in jail. Maybe if you lived in LA, were from a privileged background, demonstrated a marked change in behavior since your initial arrest (this includes not assaulting your neighbor with a Blackberry and lying to police), and actually showed up to your probation hearings on time, you would have gotten a cushy 82 minute jail-stay a la Nicole Richie. But none of those things fit the bill, unfortunately. And in a cell you sit until September 7. That should be plenty of time to figure out how you're going to tackle this whole probation thing the next time around.

XOXO,

Lauren

[Image Source: Pretty on the Outside]

Dear David Banner,

A weird little beef started between you and Al Sharpton this week. We all know why — he is waging a campaign against hip hop, and you think that he should worry about what's happening in the streets before he starts thinking about violent imagery and curse words in rap songs. By default, I agree with you. To a certain extent.

But your initial approach was way off. Telling a reverend to suck your dick is rarely an adequate way to effect change. At the same time, Kirsten John-Foy's rebuttal on behalf of Sharpton wasn't the most mature either.

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Dear Mel,

To be honest, I wasn't been planning on writing you a letter this week. This was actually meant for Eddie. But the more I thought about it, the more I felt like a letter to Eddie would be kind of redundant. I mean, we all know he's pretty much acted like a complete asshole at every stage of your pregnancy and after the birth of your child. So, that's kind of old news.

New news: I hear congratulations are in order! First, let me commend you on keeping your secret marriage secret for two whole months. Also securing Gloria Allred as your attorney was a good idea. Well, it was until either you or her (or maybe both) decided it was a good idea to completely oversaturate us with anti-Eddie Murphyisms. Look, I thought the beginning stages of your war against deadbeat dads the world over was pretty ingenious. The press conference was good, and that lunch at the Ivy with Nicole and Bella was inspired. Really. I could just imagine Eddie Murphy squirming.

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Dear Usher and Tameka,

How are you two lovebirds doing? It's been a rough week, I'm sure, what with the called off wedding, the baby scare, and all of that negative media attention. It's got to take a toll on a couple.

Not to pile on all of that negative media attention, but I have to ask — what are you two thinking? I'm lumping you both together because, well, that's what you are now. A unit. So Tameka's ignorance and lack of media savvy is now yours, Usher. And the constant media attention a major celebrity gets when he does something completely idiotic, like impregnate and propose to a highly suspect individual 10 years his senior, is now yours, Tameka.

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