Dear Melissa: You know, I liked you–a long time ago. I could listen to Like the Way I Do for hours with a certain somebody in mind. Bastardette won’t go into detail. Mr. Wunnderful is long gone, but not forgotten. It made no difference that you were singing about a woman– which he wasn’t. That song was hot. But somewhere along the way–I guess when Julie Cypher dropped into your life– you went from rocker to schlocker, and it’s been downhill ever since. (Does anybody but the softball team buy your records anymore?) Your yabber in today’s Music announcing that your new twins Johnnie Rose and Miller Steven don’t need to know their genetic heritage really nails the door shut: We really only need Tammy and me to be parents in this. I feel very confident in us as parents.” Michaels adds, “We are not going to be on the cover of a magazine going, ‘Oh, the donor is George Clooney! We don’t know who the donor is. “We don’t want to know. We’re in a lesbian relationship. It’s two moms, period.” This is not a gripe about your idyllic lesbian relationship, Melissa. Or your ability to parent. Nobody Continue Reading →