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Suing Alyssa Milano

Bombarded after January 14, 2007.

This entire website is a violation of my civil rights! And Balki Bartokomous’ rights, the poor naïve Mypiot! Consarn it, and may you be condemned to Hell, you Westphalian Schmongeling Gnomes, for depriving me of my right to see Alyssa Milano’s pretty little feet! We all know it was you who put up this website, displaying to the whole world my obsession with celebrities’ feet.

After informing my lawyer how badly this website violates my civil rights, especially my right to safely enjoy Alyssa Milano’s feet in the privacy of my gorilla-infested home, he and I decided to sue. First we sued my web hosting provider, but they just responded by bombarding my inbox with spam and pelting me with cans of old sausages. We then tried to sue the Schmongeling Gnomes, but they had buried themselves so deeply in the ground, we couldn’t find them. I demanded my lawyer sue the pile of old tires behind my garage next, but he called my request “stupid,” so I called him a “moron,” so he punched me in the nose—so we both went back to the drawing board.

I and my lawyer sued each other next, but that only resulted in a few thousand dollars being flushed down a toilet (literally—I thought the toilet was an ATM!), and acrimonious accusations of asshattery directed at my lawyer from me, and more recriminations and rebuttals hurled at me by my lawyer and his butler.

Next up on my Big List o’ Suggestions was my triangular briefcase (incidentally, where I kept the list). My lawyer congratulated my ability to remember said briefcase’s long list of aliases (including the infamous “isosceles valise”), but then we hit upon a small snag: We couldn’t figure out how to file a brief against a briefcase, no matter how brief it was (the brief, not the briefcase), so we again clawed our way back to the drawing board amidst a whole pile of accusations and new recriminations.

My sleazy lawyer quickly scratched out the rest of my Suggestions, offering fresh insults for each: Lance Armstrong, the screaming stars, my broadband provider, Ted Bundy, America Online, Christina Applegate, Larry Appleton, the government of Mypos, our own Mayor Julian Rhoodie, the stumblebum stables on Wiggensworth Street, the stumblebum stable keeper, the stumblebums themselves, Tila Nguyen, Samuel Dreckers, Lucy Liu, Cordwainer Smith, President Piggy-Man, whoever pressed the “R” key on my keyboard thirty-seven days ago, Bill Gates, James T. Kirk, Augusto Pinochet, Osama bin Laden, Hsu Chi (and her feet), the gold bullion cube I keep for a pet, Agamemnon, Xerxes, Pericles, Julia Louis-Dreyfuss, Lucy Lawless, a pack of sodomites from Sodom, Jeremy Bentham, Neve Campbell, Karl Marx, Lavrenti Pavlovich Beria (“He’s dead, you imbecile,” my lawyer offered snottily), Chiasa Aonuma, and Aika Miura—and her feet, too.

Finally, we figured out the proper party to sue: Alyssa Milano’s feet. Well, I determined this, to be exact; my lawyer called me a “magnificent idiot” and refused to file a lawsuit against someone’s feet, no matter how enticing (entrapment! entrapment!!) they were. So I filed it myself, this Friday, at 14:28:57½ in the morning, at the courthouse on Hegelian Avenue. It only cost $3.50 and some embarrassment as I had to explain to the clerk that the form not only named “Alyssa Milano’s feet” as the defendant, but also “Jennifer Love Hewitt’s toes” and “Geri Halliwell’s arches” as unindicted co-conspirators. As soon as we figure out how to serve Alyssa’s feet a court summons, the lawsuit shall proceed!

I’ll see you in court, Ms. Milano—and your litigious little feet, too!