From the desk of: Sumner Redstone

From: Sumner Redstone, CEO, Viacom Company

To: Tom Cruise

Tom,

First, I'd like to start out by apologizing for the way this whole tilt got out of hand. We hever meant to call you crazy, or anything like that. It's just that there's a large game of telephone going on over at Paramount, and by the time word gets down to the dregs of publicity, it's a shitstorm.

Look, Tommy (can I call you that?), we've worked together for a long time, and made a lot of shekels in the process, believe you me. I was there when you were sliding on a hardwood floor in your socks singing those damn rock songs back in "Risky Business," and I was there when you were tossing around bottles of Stoli with that Australian jerkoff in "Cocktail." Fuck, Tommy, I even gave you a pass for that shitty "Oi'rish" accent you faked all throughout "Far and Away." (By the way, let me just congratulate you on that little red-headed piece of trim you lined up after that shitty race car movie... what's her name, Nichelle Nichols? Nicole Red-Man? Whatever... prime P.O.A., son.)

This pissing match has gotten totally out of hand, kid. I'm sure we've each said things that we regret... OK, maybe just me... but I don't want to trash 20 years of movie/moneymaking. So, I'll just come out and say what everyone's already thinking anyway:

It's these people you're in bed with. What are they called? Scienticians? Scientaries?

Whoever they are, they frighten people. Mothers and their babies don't want to hear about "silent births" and Travolta flying jumbo jets to New Zealand. Mothers and babies don't give a fuck about "Battlestar Galactica," or whatever your damn bible is called. Mothers and babies are frightened when you quite literally chew scenery on the Oprah Show. And you know who buys movie tickets, Tom? That's right -- mothers and babies. Maybe not babies, but we're trying to build brand loyalty, in any case.

Consider this a wake-up call, bubbe. I want you to put down the Robert Heinlein koran you worship, let go of that "Dawson's Creek" kid you got duct-taped to a chair in Malibu, and get back to living a life people actually give a fuck about. No one cares if you're gay, or dyslexic, or fucking Presbyterian -- just don't confuse the morons.

Sincerely,

Uncle Sum-Sum