First off, let me say that I've loved you for many, many years.
It all started when I saw Defending Your Life back in 1992ish. You had me from the words "Tastes a little like horseshit, doesn't it?" That, and you calling Albert Brooks a "little brain."
That was the start, Rip. That's how great love begins.
Then, you were on the Larry Sanders show, which I really didn't watch, because I was kind of young, and then this thing happened with Billy Corgan, that I don't like to talk about.
I was young, Rip, young, and impressionable. It was that song Today that grabbed my ears, and took me away. Don't be mad, Rip, even you have to admit that opening riff is amazing. Like the way the last drink of Jack Daniels is amazing.
My little brain got turned around by that song, Billy Corgan in an ice cream truck, and just when I was about to kick his ass to the curb, you guessed it, Bullet with Butterfly Wings.
Once I moved past it (it was mostly his fear of sunlight, and the resulting paleness), you were there. You wooed me back with talk of "hosting an intergalactic kegger." Those are words after my own heart, Rip. Intergalactic kegger = forever.
Then, you stepped it up. You were in a movie about fingering someone. Freddy, wasn't it? You brought the lols, old buddy. And anyone who can insult someone including the words 'roast beef' is someone I want to spend forever with.
"Boo-hoo. Little Lord Fauntleroy's tummy hurts because there's too much roast beef in it."
I know we've had a good run, and just when it started to get a little stale, you drop kicked your drunken shenanigans into a bank. On my birthday, no less.
Thank you, Rip. Thank you for making my day...memorable.
I just wanted you to know that I'll be here for you, while you're in rehab, Big Daddy Rip. I'll write you a letter every single day, and before I seal the letter, I'll take a shot of scotch, and blow the fumes in the letter. I know that's how you'd want it.
I know all those people are giving you shit about how you broke into that bank, but I'm on your side. That bank looked like a fucking house to me, too, and I've only had a few shots of Listerine.
As soon as you get out, I'm going to make you your favorite dinner. Just the way you like it.