I love children. I am a strong believer that the greatest natural resources on earth are the hopes and dreams of the next generation. All that clear-eyed optimism coupled with a willingness to try the impossible is what drives our social evolution forward. In fact, if there were some means by which we could milk children of their aspirations and convert it all to raw energy, I'm confident that we could power entire city grids. Maybe with helmets attached to a big machine or something. I don't know, but I have faith that it will be the dream of some child of tomorrow to invent a functioning version.
"What if we harvested them to replace car batteries?"
The point being, regardless of how preposterous they may seem, no child should ever give up on his or her dreams because they have the potential to change the future. I for instance, wanted desperately at 11 years old to be adored by sixth grade girls around the world, and I'm proud to say that's a goal I still hold to this day.
What follows are the pivotal steps I've taken toward achieving my lifelong objective. I've held a long, admittedly one-sided conversation with the editors of
Tiger Beat Magazine
requesting that they feature me in an issue. Unfortunately, their unwillingness to comply or even respond means that I am turning to you for help. I believe that together we can force my face onto magazine racks around the country and into the hearts of children. If for some reason you don't want to do it for me, then do it for every kid out there who dared to follow a silly dream, and ended up changing the world.
Dear Tiger Beat,
While flipping through the pages of your latest issue at the local Planned Parenthood, I noticed a small but irrefutable error in your publication: I am not in it. In fact, if your magazine is to be trusted, I don't exist (not true), yet you've somehow found the real estate to litter its innards with overlapping, neon-framed photos Taylor Lautner, Cody Simpson and all of my other contemporaries. Thanks to this glaring oversight, I can guarantee that Big Time Rush is huddled around this same issue somewhere right now, laughing their v-necks off at my absence. God, I hate those guys.
If you actually paid attention to girls aged 11 to 16, then you would know I am a personality treasured within that demographic. My celebrity among the age group is partially a product of my kind and sexually sympathetic eyes and partially because I exude that singular quality that turns every tween into hot mess of quivering hormones: financial stability. There is something about a grown man with no debt and a spectacular credit score that makes young girls weep uncontrollably and tear at their own faces in want. But surely you already know that.
That said, I look forward to next month's issue where I expect I will be prominently featured, doing a sort of half smile, smoldering eye thing while reaching high over my head to casually grab the trim of a doorway with one hand. Or whatever your photographer has in mind for my spread. In the meantime I will do what I can to rectify the current problem using only the following image and a glue stick. A list of all dentist's and doctor's offices subscribing to your magazine would help make this process quicker. Thank you, and you're welcome.