Good Luck, Bristol – From Mom

My Dear Little Cub,

I told you that you could do it, didn’t I kiddo? Dang, if Mommy wasn’t right again!

When you said, “Mama Bear, the show is called Dancin’ with the Stars, not Dancin’ with the Stars’ Children, didn’t I say, “who cares about that?” Sure, those stinkin’ bleedin’- heart liberal producers probably called you because they knew anyone with my last name would increase their ratings, but we showed them, didn’t we? We increased their ratings AND stirred up controversy along the way. Never forget, darlin’ that controversy, like greed, is good. Way good.

I know, I know…you were afraid you had no talent for dancin’. But I refudiated that idea right from the start, didn’t I? You do too got talent…lots of it, but even if you didn’t, since when does talent have anything to do with winning a mirror ball or anything else? Talent is a grossly overrated, oh, what’s the word I’m lookin’ for…thing…that’s it…talent is a grossly overrated thing. Confidence is way more important. Way more. I told you to just go out there and smile and be confident and you’d have people eatin’ moose chili right out of the palm of your hand. And I was right! Again.

And all this hogwash about the voting being rigged, about my supporters clogging up the lines so other voters couldn’t get through, well that’s just hooey. This is Hollywood we’re talkin’ about…not Washington. Politics has got nothin’ to do with this.

I heard that Brooke Burke…(Don’t you love that name? I love names that come from nature even if they’re not spelled right…you know a real brook doesn’t have an “e” at the end, you know that don’t you little girl?)…anyways, I heard that Brooke said you deserve to be in the finals because you are the most improved dancer. Well, she sure as hell is right. You started out as wooden as Al Gore on the campaign trail and you ended up as loose as my lips in the Katie Couric interview. I couldn’t be prouder. Of course, I think the prize used to go to the best dancer, not the most improved, but dang, I like the new rules.

Oh, and speaking of Al Gore, someone oughta get him to call Brandy, that African-American girl everyone thought was a shoe-in because she can dance like nobody’s business. He could tell her a thing or two about being a gracious loser even when you really win.

I love you, baby! Break a leg on Monday. I thought about not being there because I didn’t want to deflect attention from you, but heck, why the hell not? Tell the photographers that Mama Grizzly will be in the front row, on the far right.

Photos by mediabistro.com

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