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Monday, December 1, 2003

Happy Birthday, Woody Allen!

Dear Woody,

Happy 68th Birthday! My grampa is 68, and he still gets dates with Tiffani Thiessen, Debra Messing, and Téa Leoni, so don’t you ever think you’ve got to stop doing whatever it is that you’re doing. Also, my grampa is hilariously out of touch with his surroundings—he still thinks Atari is cutting-edge video-game technology, and he’s never even heard of Friendster. That doesn’t stop him from being a biting social satirist! He’s always spouting these stale jokes from the L.B.J. era, and you know what? They’re just as groan-inducing as ever! I don’t care what the critics say; you are in your prime, Woody! You keep making crappy movies, and I’ll keep seein’ ’em!

Happy Birthday, you daft old fuddy-duddy!


P.S. Also, Grampa married the Vietnamese daughter he fathered during the war, and we’re all fine with that.