For someone who doesn’t know a lot about hip-hop (as we surmised from his memo to the late Tupac Shakur), Uncle Donnie does seem to be well acquainted with certain hip-hop movers and shakers.   Apparently, he’s close enough with Mr. and Mrs. Shawn Carter to score an invite to their “did-they-or-didn’t-they” nuptials last year.  Of course, after receiving this missive, who knows if he’ll be invited back if they ever renew their vows? —RS

TO: Beyoncé Knowles
FROM: Don Skwatzenschitz
RE: Career advice

Hey, there, Beyoncé.  It’s been too long, I know.  Mitzi and I really wanted to be at the wedding last year, but the dress she bought for the occasion gave her hives, and she couldn’t recover in time.  We hope you liked the Macy’s gift card.  They had a great deal on table linens recently; we got some very nice vinyl place mats that look like tree branches.  If you’ve got anything left on the card, I highly recommend the place mats.

Anyway, I see that you’re riding high on the charts with I Am … Sasha Fierce, though I’m not sure who Sasha is, and I haven’t trusted the whole alter ego thing since Garth took my advice on the Chris Gaines thing back in ’99.  What’s going on?  I mean, you could be even bigger than you are right now, but I think you could use a little guidance.  Since we’re old pals, I thought I might offer you some advice:

  • Play more inaugurations. The video of you singing “At Last” at that Obama inaugural ball was outstanding—a real moment.  Have you ever been on the TV more often than you were the week after that ball?  I think not.  Imagine how much exponential publicity you could receive if you played more inaugural balls.  I think Iraq is having an election soon. And those eastern European countries are always going to the polls for something.  Your name could become synonymous with democracy, and you’d be in the news almost constantly.  It’d be better than playing Vegas.
  • Make a duet record with Jay-Z. You two are great together.  “Crazy in Love?” Are you kidding?  Mitzi still shakes her rump to that, and even has the rap down cold.  People will pay for more.  In the grand tradition of Allman and Woman, Johnny Cash and His Woman, you and your hubby could do HOVA and His Bitch. It’d be a little like those records Kristofferson did with Rita Coolidge back in the 70s. Remember them? Probably not—that was a bit before your time. But trust the Skwatzenschitz—they were awesome. You could be as big as Rita Coolidge.
  • Make an ass calendar. Gather a dozen photos of your badonkadonk—one for each month of the year—and put them on a calendar for 2010.  You might not even have to put your name on it—you have the most recognizable tookas this side of J-Lo, so people would probably just know it was yours.  You’ll make millions—I guarantee it.
  • Fake your death. What does America love more than a diva?  A dead diva, that’s what.  Think Marilyn Monroe.  True, she didn’t really sing, but she’s an icon.  And she’s dead.  You could be an icon, too.  Collapse onstage in LA, we’ll have you in a cottage up in Mendocino in four hours.  Do it in Miami, and you and Jigga are choppered out to a waiting yacht in minutes.  Get in a plane that is reported disappeared, and you don’t even have to go onstage—we whisk you off to the Alps to live out your days living off all the Beyoncé merch people will absolutely have to have.  Think about it.  It’d really be no work at all to get it done.

All the best,


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Rob Smith

Rob Smith is a writer, teacher, wage earner, and all-around evil genius who spends most of his time holed up in his cluttered compound in central PA. His favorite color is ultramarine blue. His imaginary band Mr. Vertigo tours every summer. You can follow Rob on Twitter, if you desire.

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