Dear Mr. Wright...

Someday, after I get around to having that flap of stretched-out skin (You know, the one that hides my rock-hard abs?) surgically removed, you may wake up and realize that you are the father of an insane number of children, and that I am not as young as I was when we met.

I'll understand if you want to get all Talking Heads on me: This is not my beautiful house! This is not my beautiful wife! You may ask yourself, Well... how did I get here?

However, I want to make it abundantly clear that I will not have a sense of humor about you taking up with my plastic surgeon's 22-year-old daughter, especially one as classy as Jon Gosselin's new, um, mistress. (I can't make myself say "girlfriend." He's still married.)

If your new plaything's friends feed the press photos like this:

...or this (Hmm. What's she holding?):


...or...

...for the entire world - and our children - to see, I will personally see to it that you have a new, eunuch unique respect for your old (but freshly tummy-tucked) wife.

Just so we understand each other.