An open letter to Mika Brzezinski
Dearest Little Z-Big,
It broke my heart when I didn’t see you on “Morning Joe” last week. I was mortified when Scarborough said you were “horrified” by my “mean call.” Because I love you, baby. And Murphy didn’t mean to objectify your fine ass, which is damn fine. I mean, you’re no Willie Geist, but you got it going on. Let’s not kid ourselves. Even serial plagiarist Mike Barnicle has my back. As he explained, it’s typical for older, male viewers of “Morning Joe” to say something about you like, “Oh yeah…”
You, dearest Mika, are eye-candy for old men—the Werther’s Original of morning cable news, if you will. I was in character as David Koch, a very old piece of shit, who might say that you’re a real piece of ass in casual conversation. And you are, baby. Let’s not kid ourselves. Anyone who’s watched “Morning Joe” and seen you wearing those sexy-ass, thigh-high leather boots* can tell you that. Anyone who’s ever seen the b-roll pictures of you before commercial is well aware of your fineness. Anyone who’s picked up a copy of your book, and gazed upon the cover in sexual amazement, knows that you are a very attractive lady.
Murphy didn’t mean to do you wrong, baby. Murphy will never do it again. Murphy’s sorry. Murphy’s sorry in the third person, baby. He swears. And Murphy would never threaten you with the back of his hand, like some other jerks. Murphy was just playin’, Mika.
Somehow, this Barry White classic perfectly encapsulates my feelings:
Murphy doesn’t know what else to say. Murphy wants to buy you flowers. Murphy wants to take you out to Sizzler, for a real good meal. Murphy wants to serenade you on a moonlit beach. Murphy just wants your forgiveness, baby. Murphy needs that forgiveness! So, please, Mika, holla at yo boy.
Ian Larry Murphy
*This just in: those kind of boots are often called “fuck me boots.” But that’s neither here nor there.