Frank Sinatra's Letter to George Michael:

Come on George, Loosen up. Swing, man, Here's a kid who 'wanted to be a pop-star since I was about seven years old.' and now he's a smash performer and song-writer at 27, he wants to quit doing what tons of gifted youngsters all over the world would shoot grandma for- just one crack at what he's complaining about. Michael should thank the Good Lord every morning when he wakes up to have all that he has. Dust off those gossamer wings and fly yourself to the moon of your choice and be grateful to carry the baggage we've all had to carry since those lean nights of sleeping on buses and helping the driver unload the instruments.. And no more of that talk about the 'tragedy of fame' The tragedy of fame is when no-one shows up and you're singing to the cleaning-lady in some empty joint that hasn't seen a paying customer since St. Swithin's Day. And you're nowhere near that; you're top dog on the top rung of a tall ladder called stardom, which in Latin means 'thanks to the fans who were there when it was lonely. Talent must not be wasted. Those who have it--and you obviously do, or the article would have been about Rudy Vallee--those who have talent must hug it, embrace it, nurture it and share it lest it be taken away from you as fast as it was loaned to you. Trust me.

I've been there.

-Frank Sinatra