Dear Mr. Derek Jeter,
Do you feel bad for people who have or had cancer? OK, good. Keep that answer in mind as you read this.
A lot of people have been sharing that Gatorade commercial you made, and that's all well and good, but I think you're being ridiculously selfish. Those of us who are the same age, who spent our formative years watching you play drama-less, Hall of Fame-caliber baseball, are now forced to acknowledge that we, too, are getting old. But we are nowhere near retirement. So I think it's only fair that you share your retirement money with us - or rather, me.
See, I dedicated many years to your cause, shepherding breathless and overexcited young girls to the latest Jeter merchandise as part of my thankless job at a sporting goods store. Their giggles still ring in my ears like the sound of kittens being tortured. Oh, and did I mention that I had cancer? That should be good for some extra dough. Anyway, PM me and I'll give you the account number for wiring money.
Yours truly,
Heather LaBruna
p.s.
I met your old pal Bernie Williams the other day when he landed in a hot-air balloon behind our house (honest to God!) and he gave his blessing to my "Derek Jeter Wealth Redistribution Plan." So please do the right thing. (Oh, and despite what the picture may look like, I swear I was NOT high on medicinal marijuana!)
P.P.S.
Should you feel uncomfortable giving a mere mortal such as myself your hard-earned dough, go ahead and donate some moolah to the Young Survival Coalition in my name. Somebody should benefit from your damn retirement.
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