Lindsay, this just isn't working out.

Look; I know we've had some really great times together. Like when we went skinny dipping on a dare after we lost that game of poker at camp, or that time that we put a lizard in your bitchy step-mom's hair…I know; that was SO fun! But, as much as it hurts me to say it, Lindsay…you've changed.

No, Lindsay…don't. This isn't easy for me either. Do you remember how I used to just…to just sit and listen to you talk for hours? You know, I'd come back to student housing from a really shitty day of law school classes and I'd take my wingtips off and sit down in my suit and tie and just drink and listen to you talk about how you'd never met your mom, but you somehow knew she was really beautiful, or about how you found this old book that said that if you did some rare experiment with a pentagram and a black Barbie doll maybe you could get your mom back?

I mean, I guess it was pretty clear even then that the total absence of any stable female role model in your life would affect your adulthood, and, Lindsay, by now even I have to face it: if you don't start turning your life around and accepting roles in movies where your character actually has a mom, you're life could take a real turn for the worse.

I know…I know…I sound like a total fucking drag—like your fucking dad, right? But seriously, Lindsay, like…OK, like this is an example right here: like, wearing my uncle Bradley's ratty old East Texas State University t-shirt as pajamas is one thing, but…I mean, that shirt is really more of an "inside" shirt. Lindsay, just…just hear me out. I'm just saying, you know, maybe today you'll wear my uncle's shirt out, tits fucking bouncing every which way, one at a time, as you strut off to the set of your next movie, "Mutherless Childe," and, before you know it, some day you could be running around panty-less in a little sun dress, showing your greasy, hairless, frog-like, alien vulva to God and everybody, dating fucking Jared Leto, fucking doing big mountains of blow with Marilyn Manson so often that his stripper wife files for divorce.

Look; I just can't let it come to that on my watch; and, honestly, Lindsay—and I need you to believe me when I tell you that I still care for you very much—but you're not the girl that I fell in love with anymore, and I think it's best for both of us if I don't see you for a while.