Dear Vanessa Williams,

All these years I doubted you. And you were right.

Sometimes the snow comes down in June

I said to myself, “She’s insane. Snow never comes down in June.” But it’s down. Right now. As I write this. And you knew it all along. And now I have egg on my face.

Guess that’s what happens when you doubt Miss America – something I will never do again.

What can I do to prove my contrition? I could wash your car, or bake cupcakes for your children’s school bake sales. Wait, I heard schools don’t do bake sales anymore because suddenly every child in America has a peanut allergy or vomits after eating wheat.

Isn’t this world a crazy place?

Love,
Will