Fan Mail: Steve Buscemi

Where have you gone, Steve Buscemi? Jesus loves you more than you will know. Woah Woah Woah. Seriously, where are you? I feel like you haven’t graced the big screen in years with your presence. I miss you, kid.

Remember when you were cut in Wilmington, N.C., in front of a then-unknown-Vince Vaughn and by someone my brother was acquainted with during his crazy college days (my brother’s, not Stabber McGutterstein’s)? Shedding blood in a dive bar in an obscure state ties you to that state for life. You are practically a North Carolinian. That makes you my family. I worry about my family when I don’t see them regularly.

You enchanted me as part of the Adam Sandler troupe in such amazing fetes of comedy as Big Daddy, Billy Madison, and Mr. Deeds. You were totally believable as the nicotine-addicted, ex-crack head therapist alongside Sandra Bullock in 28 Days. From your earliest films, to your dabbles in drama, you have always been the best character actor in Hollywood. I am sorry if you have felt under appreciated.

You are quite possibly the ugliest actor to ever sign a Hollywood Contract. With your skinny physique that would make a Next Top Model jealous, to your jacked up teeth – the envy of all West Virginians, you gave America the one thing that politicians and philanthropists have failed to provide: real hope.

Hope that ugly people, too, can make it in the most superficial industry the world-over. Hope that talent can overcome physical deformities and a receding hairline and, finally, hope that Adam Sandler’s movies could actually be comically redeemed. Thank you.

I miss you. I didn’t know your name until 2007, 20 years after your first role, but, at the very least, I liked you. I really liked you. Come back.

- Pokey