Steve Martin, I love you

Ok, so you're married. So am I. Let that not prove an impediment to our true romance. No one else could've pulled off arrow-through-the-head, banjo-picking, anti-comedy like you. I still remember struggling to stay up way past my bedtime to see you on SNL in the late '70s. I remember a monologue where you put live cats and was that a trout? down your pants. I remember the Two Wild and Crazy Guys. I remember it all, for I loved you even then.

Then you did some silly movies. I was 11 or 12 and didn't quite get it at the time. But I got it, over time. And you got less silly. Then you wrote one of my favorite books, "Shopgirl." How can you know so well how a woman thinks, how we take completely different things from conversations than men do? You're insightful. My best friend shared your book with me and we fell for you, hard. Then I bought my own copy. Then I gave my husband a copy for his birthday. Little does he know my adoration for you, Steve.

And now there's your autobiography, one more in a long line of writing credits that prove you are entertainment's Renaissance man (you act, you do stand up, you write books, plays, movies, you're a student of art and philosophy, and you're cool in an off-kilter way). Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life was wonderful. It was interesting and well done -- my only complaint is it was far too short.

Be a dear, Steve, and remedy that with another book about your life after you dropped stand up. Do it for yourself; do it for your fans; do it for us. It is a one-sided love entirely based on my admiration for you as a writer and performer, but if us two crazy, mixed up kids can't make it in this one-sided, long-distance admiration fest, who can?