Dear Roderick (yes, that’s his given name) Stewart:
Do We Think Ya Sexy? Still? Why certainly. Sexiness transcends the years, including your 71 of them, Roderick. ... Fine—Rod, if you insist. (Can we still call you “Rod the Mod” or is that outdated?) Do we want your body? Surely many still do and will be happy to tell you so. If they really need you, can they just reach out and touch you?
Forgive us for having some fun with some of your biggest hits, but they’re just so hummable we can’t help it.
After all, Tonight’s The Night (or any night during your current Caesars Palace run). C’mon, our hearts are on fire. Don’t deny your audience’s desire. You’d be a fool to stop this tide. Spread your wings and let us come inside (the Colosseum), ’cause, well, Tonight’s The Night!
Can I bring a date with whom you might have a passing acquaintance? Might be a sensitive issue for you. Her name? Maggie May. You remember? All you needed was a friend to lend a guiding hand, but she turned into a lover and mother, what a lover, she wore you out. All she did was wreck your bed and in the morning kick you in the head. (Hmmm, maybe I should offer my extra ticket to someone else. She sounds like a real, uh, witch.)
I hope this won’t embarrass you, but when it comes to an outlook on dating, I’ve always considered you a brother in arms. Thinking back on my own romantic life, I certainly identified when you proclaimed that Some Guys Have All The Luck. Some guys (ahem—moi) have all the pain. Some guys get all the breaks. Some guys do nothing but complain. (Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo) …
Although, given that the ladies in your life have included models Jennie Rylance, Dee Harrington, Britt Ekland, Alana Hamilton (Wife No. 1), Kelly Emberg, Rachel Hunter (Wife No. 2) and Penny Lancaster (Wife. No. 3)—well, I get the feeling you’ve had more of the luck (and I’ve had more of the pain). Makes sense, though. After all, they all wanted your body and they all thought you’re sexy, and they definitely let you know.
Still, wasn’t it a bit unseemly to boast about all your lovers? You didn’t brag, you insist? What do you call all that yelping about Hot Legs? You know—hot legs, they were wearing you out. Hot legs, they could scream and shout. Hot legs—were they still in school? You loved ’em HONEEEEY! …
Nevertheless, we won’t begrudge you that. You’re a rock star—the whole sex, drugs and rock-and-roll lifestyle (though we know you don’t practice that middle activity anymore). We get it. That’s part of your appeal.
Bottom line: To this day, You’re in Our Hearts, You’re in Our Souls. You’ll be our breath (musically, that is) when we grow old. … Yet you keep us feeling Forever Young, forever young, forever young, forever young—For-Ev-Er Young.
You know we’re with you, so how do you feel about us? Don’t speak it. Sing it to us, Roderick:
Have I Told You Lately That I Love You? Have I told you there’s no one else above you? Fill my heart with gladness, take away all my sadness. Ease my troubles—that’s what you do.
