Dear Rwanda,

Hey, how is it over there? L.A. is like totally awesome right now. This weekend there were two fab Halloween parties. I can’t decide which I looked better as, a hot sailor or hot Alice in Wonderland. What do you think? Also, do you think I’m looking pale lately? Maybe I’ll go tanning later.

Anyway, I definitely want to come by and see your place. I hear that people there have the like the best diet tips ever. I totally want to steal them!!! But bad news: My charity is canceling my trip. I know, I’m super bummed. :(

But don’t worry, I’ll totally visit next year. Could you do me a favor, though? It’s super small, I swear. Would you mind staying all impoverished and war-torn until I get there? If I could, like, save someone’s life while I’m there that would be great.

Ok, talk soon.

xoxo,
Paris

Perhaps inspired by the seething editorial published not hours ago regarding Ann Coulter's most recent self-serving publicity stunt, Coulter herself has written an open letter to her readers. Below, a choice excerpt:

I've been participating in a charade for nearly eleven years, now. Quite frankly, I'm sick of it. You have all been a part of a sick joke that I began considering shortly after first getting on the air. At first, it was quite interesting to see how people would react when I would use twisted logic and poorly masked bigotry. But eleven years is a long time to be living a fake life, and I can no longer tolerate this falsity.

OK, fine, she didn't really write that.* And until she does, we're hereby officially joining forces with our brother Mollygood in an effort to purge Jossip Initiatives of any/all Coulter-related news. Does anyone else taste that? It's journalistic freedom. Been nice knowing you, Ann.

*In actuality, Coulter's precious website was hacked and the aforementioned letter was published by some of her liberal detractors instead.

Dear Avril,

We read excerpts of the interview you gave to Q Magazine and thought we'd jot down a couple of quick thoughts/suggestions.

First of all, we noticed that you modestly described yourself as "a very giving person." Not to nitpick or anything, but just so you know, true philanthropists generally don't need to go around bragging (to random British magazines) about how selfless and giving they are. It's not written in stone or anything, just customary.

Second, the definition of "giving" typically does not include stuffing six boxes full of Manolo Blahniks and ordering your assistant [Ed: Really? You have an assistant?] to "Take it to Katrina."

CONTINUED »

Dear Jenny,

Next time you feel like taking a picture next to the Naked Cowboy in Times' Square, ask yourself:

1) Do I really want to be here?

2) Would my Scientologist boyfriend, Jim Carrey approve?

3) If I know that someone's about to snap a photo of me, is it really best idea to pick that exact moment to check out the Naked Cowboy's "package?"

If the answer to any of those questions is "no," then you may wish to reconsider your decision.

Best,
Jossip

Todd Thomson and his wife, Melissa, could use more than a second honeymoon right about now.

The recently axed Citigroup exec has been grabbing headlines for all the wrong reasons, with everyone from Page Six to the Wall Street Journal insinuating that his jetsetting relationship with "Money Honey" Maria Bartiromo was something more than platonic, and chiding him for his over-the-top extravagances, (i.e. his luxe former office, "derisively dubbed 'The Todd Mahal.'")

And now, it's being reported that Thomson and his wife have disappeared on a possibly romantic, possibly horribly awkward and definitely ill-timed vacay up in the mountains.

So, with things spiraling out of control, we decided to write an open letter to Todd offering our unsolicited advice for his myriad of problems, and reprinted it for you below:

Dear Todd,

Not sure if disappearing with your wife to a remote cabin is really the proper course of action here. Most husbands/philanderers in your position would either flee in terror, or else stick to very, very public places lest their wives pull a Lorena Bobbitt and lash out at them for their indiscretions. (Haha, we're only kidding! Probably).

And while we're on the subject of discretion, maybe you ought to reconsider the whole chartering a private jet for your possibly adulteress companion modus operandi. As we already learned from Scott Storch's failure to land Lindsay "Sure Thing" Lohan, grand overtures won't necessarily get you the girl, but they will bring extremely public attention to your failure, and—in your case—clue your wife in to the fact that you've been hiding the sausage somewhere else.

Oh, and also? You might want to work on that whole humility thing. Because, as it turns out, people generally don't feel sorry for jackasses who cheat on their wives by banging television news celebrities on the desk of "The Todd Mahal."

Hope this helps!
Jossip

Let us know if we missed anything.