by Sarah Kobrinsky
Sometimes when life gets tough, I close my eyes and whisper: Baldwin. Baldwin. Baldwin. Then, I imagine a miniature version of you magically appears with Schweddy balls in one hand and brass ones in the other. You whisk me away to the Island of Sodor where, amongst Thomas & Friends, you bust my buffers and tell me, in your voice that sounds like fresh ground cinnamon, that I’m really useful.
We have so much in common, you see. Your brother’s a preacher, my mother’s a Rabbi. You have five siblings, I have five siblings. I teach yoga, your wife teaches yoga. I had a May/December relationship, you have a May/December relationship. You’ve been known to be a hothead. I’m a hothead. Your family’s Catholic, mine’s Jewish. See? Same, same.
You have become a much beloved part of our family. I watched every available episode of “30 Rock” when I was in my first trimester of pregnancy. To this day, whenever I hear the theme song I want to puke and my son laughs hysterically. We named him Jack, by the way. We’re sure going to miss the show.
My husband follows you on Twitter. He keeps trying to get me to join but I can’t bring myself to do it. I’ve missed whole chunks of his life: “Sweetheart, didn’t you see my tweet?” Perhaps if you asked me nicely, I just might consider it.
Our family has a handmade ceramics company in California. I suggested my husband, the potter, design a vessel called The Baldwin. He agreed wholeheartedly, but we can’t decide if it should be an old-fashioned shaving mug or a chalice. What do you think?
I’ve been working on a screenplay that includes many scenes of you bare-chested à la The Shadow. Well, I hope my hero would be played by you, that is, if my movie ever makes it to production—know any producers I can talk to? It’s about a retired marine who opens a clothing optional kosher deli dinner theater. In Fargo.
The other day I practiced yoga with your wife Hilaria on Hulu. Wow! She’s absolutely lovely. You lucky Liberal in a Tuxedo, you! Speaking of liberal, if you ever run for office, I would be happy to work on your campaign. I can’t vote for you, mind you, seeing as I’m Canadian (Did I mention I had a great uncle named Alec? He used to play for the Saskatchewan Roughriders), but it would be most worthwhile to have me in your corner. I’ll simply use my double air miles to fly to your designated headquarters.
Alec Baldwin for Mayor. Alec Baldwin for Governor. Mazel, Mazel, El Generalissimo.
P.S. If you think this is just another fanatic letter from a crazed fan, Nuts to you, McGillicutty!