An Open Letter To Maxwell

I'm biting off Pserendipity's style today...


Hey, Maxwell. Enough already. I get it.. You can sing. You make classic soul music. You make the ladies swoon. But for real, can you go away again?

I know that you got 2 more albums coming out in the next year. I’ll probably illegally download them too. The first one is pretty good, even if its mad short. But that’s not the point. The point is that I’m tired of seeing you, hearing you, and hearing about you. Can you please release the hypnotic hold you have on the ladies of America (maybe it’s the same overseas too. I can see you doing a show in Sierra Leonne or something)? Every time you show comes to town, I have to hear the ladies give all the details about the show. Or every time I log into Facebook, I have to see blurry camera phone pictures of your concert or a 3 week countdown to your show. I really don’t need to hear about your tight pants again ever in my life. Or how women don’t like light skinned men, but they’ll make an exception for you. Or how much, where and in what ways you could get it. For real, enough already.
I know it’s not your fault. You can’t help being the way you are and I don’t want to ruin your career, but can you just maybe go tour Europe for awhile. Get some of them euros or something. Give me and the rest of the brothers in the states a break from the constant Maxwell worshiping. I’d like to be able to go an hour or two without hearing “Pretty Wings” or “Bad Habit” from a co worker’s computer. I promise, I’m not jealous. I have a woman, so that’s not the issue. I’m just a little tired of you, and that can quickly turn into irritation, which can quickly turn into despising, which can quickly turn into me showing up to your concert with a sniper’s rif… Maybe, I shouldn’t type that last sentence. But for real, Maxwell… enough already.

Thanks in advance,

Rashan Jamal