Dear Jimmy,

You've got the songs, right enough, but what you say about yourself just doesn't add up. The case you keep trying to make is not that you love our music, but that outside of our music you don't exist. There's a big gap between the way you pretend to love us and the way you obviously hate yourself.

Why can't you talk about the positive things you've done in the thirty or forty years that have gone by since you first heard the music of the Rolling Stones? While you were listening to me, I was listening to you, and here's what I heard. I heard you were a decent kid who worked hard to learn from your father and went to a top college. I also heard you joined the Marines and served your country for six years. And after that you went back to school and got three post graduate degrees so you could work as a teacher and a librarian. You got hired at some pretty tough schools, and all right, you couldn't handle it. But you've been a librarian for near on ten years now, and you've helped a lot of people to enjoy the library and get more out of life.

In one way I get the point of you pretending to be a murderer. Your daddy died and you couldn't save him. I could give you a long list of people I couldn't save. You and I are more alike than you realize. All through the Sixties everyone was going to pieces all around me and I just carried on. They called me cold. You say you're a killer. But it's all lies. We did what we had to do and we survived. The people we looked up to died young, but we're going to die as old men, maybe even very old men. Why pretend to be a weakling or a psycho when you've kept true to your own values and toughed it out through so many decades of ups and downs?

More alike than you realize, mate.