So I walked into work this morning, and on my desk was a letter. I'm not sure why, but Tom Cruise left a note on my desk, and asked me to put this out to the world. Why he didn't just use his publicist is beyond me. Granted, I think the note said something about his publicist not letting him speak in public b/c he thinks he's "unstable", but the note scrawled off into some kind of odd hieroglyphics after that. Anyways, here it is:

Planet Earth,

Greetings from the Kingdom of Lord Xenu! I'm sure many of you are wondering why you haven't heard much from Katie or I since the birth of our daughter Suri. Well, frankly, I've been very busy hyping MI 3 overseas, mostly because the studio thinks that the Europeans are more likely to go see it because they don't think I'm nearly as crazy as most of the American moviegoers do. As for Katie, well, I've encouraged her to extend the silent birth thing into a kind of silent motherhood thing. I think it's best for the baby to learn her Scientology teachings from me. Granted, I've heard Katie mumbling a few things about some kid named Dawson, and something about running away to some place called "Toledo", wherever that is. I've just ignored it though, even though our nanny said she thinks that Katie might have signs of postpartum depression. I fired her for that though, b/c 1) That doesn't even exist, there's no such thing as a chemical imbalance, and 2) We don't need that kind of negative energy around the kid.
Now, the real reason that I'm writing this is because of some of the recent speculation that I might not be the best parent because of my "beliefs" (or as I like to call it "my neverending knolwedge of the truth"). I mean really, look at some of the other awful celebrity parents that are out there. Seriously, look at Frances Bean Cobain. Her dad committed suicide, and her mother can't stay off the smack long enough to make a public appearance. I mean really, Courtney Love is a MESS people. And Frances is fine. She doens't even have a important, creative name.
And really, Brad and Angelina? First of all, they're having their baby in f*ing Namibia, away from the watchful eye and positive vibe of the papparazi. How stupid is that? Besides, didn't she drink Billy Bob Thornton's blood when they were married?
And don't even get me started on that Brittney chick. That fatty can't put down the Cheetos and Red Bull long enough to do anything. I mean really? Am I ever going to let my kid fall out of a high chair? Besides, Lord Xenu is totally watching over her, and that would never happen.
Anyways, I need to get back to my press junket now. I have to make sure that the public remembers that I'm the star of this movie. Not that Philip Seymour dude, who can totally act way better than me, but is so not the star that I am. I mean really. I'm Maverick. Plus, I don't think Katie is going back to work anytime soon. She's sitting in the corner of the hotel room right now rocking back and forth, whispering something about getting Prozac, which is so not good for the baby. I don't care if it's already been born.

All Praise Xenu

TomKat