Letter To Maggie Downs

"Chaste Down(s)"

Dear Ms. Downs,

I recently read your article regarding Jessica Cutler. You noted your respect of Cutler’s honesty and I wanted you to know that I respect your honesty as well. In fact, I think it’s great. Your sultry confession that, "There’s no difference," between you and Cutler, really spoke to me. It spoke to me in a deep, husky, dirty voice. Kind of like a Kathleen Turner, only on cigars... and barbiturates... after a three day bender... and with inoperable throat cancer. 

Anyways, it’s refreshing to see a somewhat public figure, albeit a mere skid mark on the rumble strip of the local scene, admit to being a whore. We all know every whore needs a John, or every whore needs to use a John, or every whore needs a John to use?! At any rate... Heeeeeeeere’s Johnny!

It hurt me when I read your confession of loneliness, "things don’t happen,’ to you in Ohio, "Especially sexual things." It hurt me bad, way down deep in my tender loins. Do you like the night life? Do you like to boogie? Well, Sister Sledge, I am a whirling dervish of sexual disco fever on the floor tonight. Make my day. Make my day. Make my make my make my day.

Cutler wrote that she once received $400 from "F" for a "long lunch." Granted, my pockets aren’t quite as deep as a Washingtonienne big shot’s, and well, I’ve seen Cutler’s spread and your Enquirer headshot, so I could see someone going as high as $20-25 (including meal).

I don’t got a lot of funds. I ain’t no rainmaker. I couldn’t keep you in Kate Spade’s bags, but the Dervish would put bags under your eyes, baby. No need for a gym’s elliptical, or a tawdry Cutleresque book to keep that heart rate at 150. I’m not so vainglorious as to brag about my prowess, but I could probably keep your pulse rate at 70-80 for at least 100 seconds (if I take a big hit on my inhaler).

I’m just curious. If you could give me a quote on what your rate would be. Just being frank, I’m trying to ballpark you. Nothing more.

Miss Cutler revealed her juicy secrets. I want you to be free to reveal your juicy... secrets. Preferably the Victorian ones. I couldn’t give you a glorious Playboy Pictorial, but I do own a pretty sweet digital camera. Don’t be too self conscious, I might be able to get the Photo Shop hook up to touch your blotchy photos up too.

I can pick you up too. I can drive you places, boo. Save you monies on your groceries. Two words. Ramen noodles. I don’t know what "chaste kisses" is, but I’m pretty nice lookin’ and stuff. I’ve been chaste by a few broads.

You stated you, "know girls who do the same thing every day," that Cutler did. So, if you have no interest, well maybe you can swing one of your dirty whore friends this way, and we can have all sorts of chaste kisses post haste. Lump me, love me.

"In every relationship... Someone feeds off the other." If you ever get hungry, my snack bar is always open.

"She don’t eat meat, but she sure like the bone." SWAG.

Dick Leakey, Cincinnati