Third and Final Letter to Lisa Loeb

[The first and second letters.]

You want to break up with me, Lisa Loeb, and I can’t say that I blame you. The pepperoni in each of your 350 pairs of shoes was bad enough. But to then fill them with concrete, so that your shoes would be ruined, and so that your only reward after hours of chiseling through concrete would be stale air-pockets filled with rotten Italian meats, that just crossed a line. I hope they haul me into court and throw away the key for what I did, because it was just wrong. I don’t know, Lisa Loeb, something about you just makes me act so crazy.

The letter from your lawyer was worded pretty strongly, and I had to find a dictionary to figure out some of the terms like “cease and desist” and “strong word-caution”.

Hey, Lisa Loeb, is this guy, Larry Goldstein, getting between us? Is Larry Goldstein the new JC? If he is, I don’t know what I’d do. Something crazy, probably. But it’s only because I’m so in like with you girl, I want us to be together and if that means I have to do scary things, well that’s fine, because then we can be together forever.

You seemed to like me early on, Lisa Loeb. You liked that I wasn’t materialistic, and that I didn’t pollute the environment with a car, and that I was willing to stay at home with you instead of going to work, and that I read a philosophy book one time, which you thought was neat. Well I guess someone poured some poison in whichever ear I hadn’t filled with honey because now all you can say is “You’re so poor you won’t pay for a bagel when I forget my wallet!” or “You’re so cheap you won’t lend me 25 cents to use the pay-toilet in an emergency!” Well, sorry for helping you to be an independent, 21st century woman! Maybe I should just buy you an apron and a time machine set for 1920, the era of rampant woman-oppression!

I guess I read into things too much, Lisa Loeb. You wrote those guitar-songs about the things that I say. You wear those personality-glasses because you heard that I like glasses. You have twenty-something looks, Lisa Loeb, and the numbers in your bank account would make Bill Gates poop masonry —- all because you heard that I like those things. Your constant obsession with being cute and taking off your pants on TV, those are my obsessions too. Your TV show taught me all about you, Lisa Loeb: you’ll let me be a man, Ietting me pay for the date so I won’t look like a man-whore. You care. You do feng shui, which is retarded, but I like you for your flaws, and your crazy hair cuts. Lisa Loeb, your fashion sense is European, and I mean that as a compliment.

You have your lawyer write me letters, but you don’t know anything about me, Lisa Loeb. You don’t know about my chicken farm in Idaho (free-range, and they die naturally before being shipped to a kennel that feeds hungry dogs, which I also run). I’m a six-time Kung Fu champion, and I’m very good at Nintendo also. Maybe if you were listening to me instead of talking on the phone to your lawyer, you’d know that by now. Did you know that I was in a coma for 16 years and when I woke up all I could say for six months was “Lisa Loeb” and people thought I had gone crazy? Of course you didn’t, but you know what? They are the ones who are crazy-- crazy for not constantly thinking about you, Lisa Loeb. I was the seventh man to travel into space. I was asked to be the Pope, but declined, citing my lack of belief in papal infallibility. You know why I don’t believe in papal infallibility, Lisa Loeb? Because I believe in Lisa Loeb infallibility, and there can only be one vessel for God’s eternal voice. I once met a woman on her honeymoon and charmed her so much, she asked for my hand in marriage. I said “No, I’m waiting… waiting for Lisa Loeb.” Did you know that? I didn’t think so. You be you Lisa Loeb, and I’ll be me, the only person I can be, the JC.

Your lawyer informed me over the phone, fax and via “Snail-mail” (isn’t that a funny thing to call it, instead of old-time-mail or Original mail? Sounds like it was covered with snail slime or something!) that I am no longer allowed to communicate with you without facing serious legal repercussions. Well you know what, Lisa Loeb? I’d rather spend 50 years in a maximum security prison with murderers and sodomites, thinking about your round booty and pretty glasses than spend 2 seconds out free on the streets not thinking of you.

I’m sorry it couldn’t work out between us, Lisa Loeb. Maybe you should get to know me next time, before you come chasing after this #1 Single:

Which is me, JC.

JC

P.S. If you become pope, I’m going to require a few Papal pardons when I get out of prison, Lisa Loeb... or if I enjoy myself, a lot of pardons.

Comments

[ryan]

Man, you guys were so cute together too. But you're doing a very noble thing by gracefully bowing out, and clearing the way for someone that will really make her happy. I'm of course talking about Rivers Cuomo.

[Sparktakus]

between the hello kitty toast and now the giant hello kitty "plushy" partner, I've learned more than I ever need to know about lisa loeb's sexual proclivities. This is an almost forty year old woman who gets off on the idea of a two dimensional little girl cat. You know how fucked up Disney girls are? Now add the eccentricity of Japan and the fact Hello Kitty cannot talk. Uh. Oh.

[ryan]

Hey man I just got back from this show called Rock of Ages and your sweet heart was there chilling on the VIP couch with some frumpy, mommish looking lady. Afterwards Nick Wenger asked her if she was Lisa Loeb and she totally was! I asked her how come she was playing my boy JC for a fool and some personnel asked me to leave. But it looked like the question choked her up a bit, so I think you still have a shot. Good luck (gotta go!)