Dear Elvis,

If you really are alive somewhere and crusing truck stops these days, I urge you to come out of hiding and bring your dag'um guitar. I don't know if you've heard the wire out on the C.B. but they're saying that Madonna and none other than Mariah Freakin' Carey have one-upped you on the Billboard Charts. Can you believe that crap? Me neither.

I'm calling "shenanigans" on this one, and here's why: While genius is rarely appreciated in its time, it is far more often that we lose our heads about something and twenty years (or two weeks) later look back and go, "What were we thinking?" This is evident, oddly enough, in offender #1, Madonna, herself. You call it "reinventing yourself," and I call it "damage control." Madonna has not positively contributed anything to music, society, England, Eva Peron, Kabbalah, Britney Spears, etc. since... since, freaking, A League of Their Own. I'll give Mrs. Richie two thumbs up for Dress You Up but then she'll owe me some for Hung Up, the video that goes with it, that song from Austin Powers and I also believe she owes Don McLean an very sincere apology. I wasn't even angry about the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame thing, I really wasn't, but you better know that I wasn't gonna let this one slide. And you probably haven't heard this Four Minutes song but did you happen to catch Promiscious, Give It To Me, The Way I Are... SexyBack? Same, same. I'm not sure why Lady Gap Tooth gets the credit for this slight against God, but she did and that puts her at 37 Top 10 hits and you with a slighty shabby 36. Did they count Paul Oakenfield's remix of Rubberneckin'? Somebody check on that.

And Mariah Carey. This chick has cranked out 18 Number 1's. And by "cranked out," I mean, she threw a couple of sexy trigger words into the same MadLib from two years ago, borrowed T-Pain's vocoder and tricked a whole bunch of old men and jr. high school boys into think she wanted their grubby mits all over her. While she is infinitely hotter than you were at thirty-eight and sang the heck out of Vision of Love, I'm pretty sure even the people with Billboard smell something rotten. Whispery songs about sex, songs about sex sung in ridiculous octaves (both directions), songs with vague food and sex references featuring ugly rappers you and I both know she's not having sex with rapping about how they're "tapping that." Not only that, but the whole time trying desperately to convince us that she's twenty-two instead of thirty-eight in these ridiculous videos that have about a two week shelf-life on TRL or 106 & Park and, oh! The Billboard Hot 100. Also, the movie Glitter.

And apparently this is no joke, Mr. P. People on the news are saying this stuff with straight faces. "Mariah is bigger than Elvis." "The Queen of Pop takes down The King of Rock N Roll." They're suggesting that one day me and a shuttle bus full of other eighty-year olds will be touring her homestead one day. Or like, freaking, Madonna Ciccone BLVDs in every urban metropolis. I'm okay with people impersonating Madonna and Mariah at gay pride parades, but I don't think this fragile soul could stand up to it in Vegas or... like, Branson. And I imagine that you're none too happy about it, either.

Which is why I'm earnestly requesting a Return of the King. Just one two-and-a-half minute ballad will put those foul heifers in their places and (I can only hope) shut them up for good. These women are brazen and shameless and a reproach upon my generation, because I know it's not thirty-eight year olds downloading this non-sense. C'mon, Elvis! You didn't blow your cover when your only (only? I'm just assuming) daughter married that white lady, but if you're going to exact your revenge, do it now! It can only get worse.

Seriously,
Kayla

P.S. If John and George are around, please forward this letter to them, as Ms. Carey is only three MadLibs and a drum machine away from taking The Beatles.