Dear Mrs. Rogers-Jones,

First and foremost, I would like to congratulate you on your current overwhelming success, best exhibited in the recent announcement of your new MTV reality show with your newly-wed husband, Nas. Not that you need one to validate yourself as an artist, but truly in today's Digital World, the fact that you are starring in a reality show in which you are not aspiring to become Martha Stewart's intern, pimp your ride, or elope with a crackhead in a viking's helmet, illustrates that you have officially been catapulted into the elite limelight of American fame. And who more deserved than you? I still remember, not too long ago, discussions with my peers about how baffling it was that "Kelis is so huge in the UK but people hardly know her in the States." You are Living Proof that true talent does exist at least in some corners of pop, Kelis, you are no longer a Lil Star.

Unfortunately, as most open letters go, I am not writing to you just to say hello, or to stroke your ego. It is currently around midnight, and I just returned from your show which, much to my dismay, I was not able to catch you at. Now, in the same way that I'm sure Obama didn't have much of a direct hand in his administration's hostile takeover of a supporter's Myspace page, I'm sure you also didn't really have anything to do with the dress code at tonight's event. But truly, I ask, how do you measure the irony of requiring collared shirts, slacks, and dress shoes to see an artist whose debut album cover featured her completely nude and drenched in paint?

You see? That was Kaleidoscope, Kelis. I've been down with you since then. But then again, I'm sure that's not crossing your mind while you're performing (which you may be at this very moment as I write) to a crowd of wannabe Popular Thugs in fake gators and way too much CK One. I, on the other hand, had your futuristic-outerspace Tastiness in mind and came decked out like Mr. U.F.O. Man himself. Yes, I wore tennis shoes. But they were hotttttttt tennis tennis shoes! They Glow, dammit! Look! Wimbledon shit! And my jeans? Uniqlo jeans, which you model for! AND I wore my shiny blue windbreaker, which is soOOoO in the tradition of your Wanderland days. But I guess the bouncers at your show must've also been following Kelis tradition, because they sure were BOSSY.

Alas, perhaps your fame is now a bit too Young, Fresh N' New for us old-time fans. There's No Turning Back now. But when you perform to the crowd and realize that only a Handful of them are able to do more than mouth the hook to Milkshake, will you Flash Back and feel that same fulfillment that you did back in the days when you (although not yet a Millionaire) were surrounded by the supporters who were down Til the Wheels Fall Off? I Don't Think So.

Ultimately, I should've known that a $5 Kelis show with an open Hennessy bar was too good to be true. I would like you to know that after the bouncers bounced me, I took my five bucks to Safeway and bought a box of Honey Bunches of Oats to munch on while cursing the existence of soft leather dress shoes under my breath.

Anyway, I don't mean to sound harsh, I simply felt that I needed to Stick Up for those of us who feel Suspended in this sudden outburst of Attention toward you. But real fans keep it real, Wouldn't You Agree? I still love you and your music dearly, I will still bump your albums, awaiting the day when your pink stilettos will graze my back (they probably wouldn't have let you in with those stilettos, by the way). And with that, I leave you with a rather fitting poem by my good friend Dahlak, entitled, "The Club." Have A Nice Day.

Sincerely,
Adriel Luis