Dear Meghan:

 I know how it is, darling: you were lounging around in your PJs.  (I do it all the time.) You were curled up with a good book. Maybe you had a glass or two of wine. 

 Suddenly, sweetheart, you had a fun idea: post your picture on Twitter. What could be the harm? 

Then the sky fell in, baby. The forces of sexual repression reared their ugly heads. They called you a slut. They demanded you apologize to America. (Apparently, these were the same Americans who were traumatized by Janet Jackson's wardrobe malfunction a few years back.) They insisted that your father disown you. 

Total overreaction. It's not like you showed nips are anything. (Not that that wouldn't be totally awesome.) 

I know all about it, sugar. I've been fighting the forces of sexual repression for decades. That's how I know how to fight back.

I run a little magazine called Playboy, honey. You may have heard of it.  Every month a different fine, upstanding representative of young American womanhood celebrates her freedom and empowerment by taking off her clothes and letting it all hang out.

And from the looks of your photo, sweetmeat, you've got a lot to let hang out. What are you--a 36DD? Plus I'm betting they're all natural. I've got an eye for this sort of thing. I've been in this biz a long time.  

Nothing distasteful, sugar-bumps.  You can drape yourself in the American flag, if you want. Like your father's campaign, it's your decision whether or not you show Bush. (By the way, do you wax?)

I can see where you get your good looks. You're mother's a fox too, at least when she's not having a migraine. How about a mother/daughter pictorial? Gotta think about the MILF market. Cougars are all the rage these days. 

If I knew you were such a hottie,  I might have voted for your father instead of whatshisname, the guy with the Nobel Peace Prize nobody can figure out what for. He's got a couple of daughters, but they're a little too young for me. I'm not Roman Polanski, you know! (Not that I'm judgmental.) But if they take after their mother, they're going to be bootylicious when they're full grown. Thank heavens for little girls! 

And afterwards, I've got a few openings at the Mansion I'd like to fill, candy-snatch. Things haven't been the same since Mandy and Brandy and Candy (or whatever their names were) moved out.  How'd you like to be the next Girl Next Door and my next "special lady?"

Sure, I'm old enough to be your grandfather, piece-of-ass. But I'm young at heart. Plus I've got a Viagra IV drip. There's still plenty of lead left in the ol' pencil. We could write beautiful blogs together.