Amy, Amy, Amy! (Outro)

Dear Amy Winehouse,

You know, you're a great musician. I can honestly say that your last two albums (Frank, and Back to Black), have dazzled me almost as much as when I first heard "Abbey Road", or "The Best Of Olivia Newton John Vol 3". And I know that a lot of creative people have their troubles (including the aforementioned Ms Newton-John). And I have defended you, Amy. When people who have never heard your music have berated you at parties for being a drug-fucked idiot with stupid hair, I have sung your praises, and weathered the knowing gazes and turned backs when I go outside to have a cigarette. And I was with you all the way of this crazy fame journey....I was with you when you flaked out and forgot your words at concerts, I was with you when you married that money-hungry criminal Blaaaaaakkkkke Fielder-Civil, I was with you when you went on your extended, (apparently) drug free holiday to St. Lucia, despite the constant reports that you were wreaking drunken havoc all over a quiet, island paradise. "She's an ARTIST!!!" I would scream, "She's only 24!!!!" (although I suspect you've been 24 for a few years now).


But Amy, I cannot support you anymore. Not after THESE!!

What the fuck?

Now, I know you've never really gone for the "natural" look, but sweet jesus, that's just WRONG! Despite your faults, I though you were one of those girls that was all about the talent! And I know, before your unfortunate smack addiction, you were quite a voluptuous girl. But here's a tip...If you wanted boobs, you could have just EATEN SOME FOOD, INSTEAD OF HEROIN! If you wanted to spend a whole stack of money to make yourself feel better, why not ADOPT AN ORPHAN FROM MALAWI LIKE MADONNA! Amy, this is hard to say, but my love affair with you is over. No longer will we share those intimate moments when I listen to your CD and say "Wow, what an thoughtful lyric, wow what a great voice." Because I will never get past your enormous, fake, gazoongas. I'm sad, but I should have known. After all, love IS a losing game.

Yours Sincerely,

Anne Frankenfurter