Jerry, you broke the pact once again! Here
I went marrying the world’s biggest pop superstar and you
gave me nothing, Jerry. Nothing!

Janna Hutz

Why does this always happen to me? I’m cursed.
That’s gotta be it. Cursed, Jerry, cursed!

You wanna get nuts? Let’s get nuts!

My childhood pal Britney is getting all the headlines. Here I
am, Jason Alexander, once again left in the dust. The feelings of
my high school super-wedgie rush back! The papers are calling her
crazy, drunk, trashy. For 55 hours there, I called her Mrs.

Now, I’m not looking for massive publicity here, I already
got enough attention when “Bob Patterson” hit (and
missed) ABC’s lineup a few years back. I just need to tell my
side of the story. That’s why I’ve already appeared on
“Access Hollywood,” “Inside Edition” and
“ET” and am planning on appearing on “Behind the
Music,” “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy,”
“The E! True Hollywood Story: Britney Spears” and

After “Seinfeld” ended its run, I moved back home to
my hometown of Kentwood, Louisiana. There, my childhood friend,
Britney Jeans Spears (or B.J. as I like to call her), and I once
again grew close. Twenty-two years my junior, she’s Soon-Yi
to my Woody.

You may ask yourself: How could that young, sumptuous, breasty,
not-so-dirrty, down-home girl marry this fat, bald, unemployed,
neurotic, loser of a human being?

I simply did the opposite of every instinct I had, and that
worked. My Hollywood crush Marisa Tomei once found me attractive.
For a little over two days, I had B.J. tricked as well

We’re Taking It Up a Notch!

It took me over a year to finally get rid of my fiancée
Susan (and her dolls). Last Saturday, it took a 20-minute ceremony
in Las Vegas to call this not-yet-a-woman my wife. Master of my
domain for almost a whole three days, the consummation period
lasted about 20 minutes as well. Now she’s a woman.

B.J. even let me eat a pastrami sandwich and listen to a bowl
game while engaged in coitus. It was love, so I thought …
but I’m getting ahead of myself.

In true, traditional Louisiana fashion, B.J. got all dressed up:
a crop-top, ripped jeans with a white garter and a baseball cap. I
was equally over-dressed in my wife-beater, Von Dutch trucker hat
and Wal-Mart sweat pants. Just a normal evening for the Little
White Wedding Chapel. It was a big night for Vandelay Industries! A
very big night!

The proudest day of my life. To think I once adopted smoking
cigarettes to kill a marriage (toxic envelopes killed that
engagement in the end).

Worlds are colliding!

Jerry, I’m sorry for my ranting. You’re happily
married now and still it is I, not you, who defy our co-marriage
pact. For I am still “Costanza: King of the Idiots”
— even though my name is Alexander, not Costanza.

Costanza was an out-of-work, single, whiny New Yorker. I, Jason
Alexander, am not from New York!

So there you go, “Seinfeld” fans, when you see me on
the street call me by my real name and stop telling me how much the
finale sucked. We know it sucked. But it still gets us one-million
dollars each time it airs on syndication.

Yeah Britney, I never married you for your money. I desired you
for the way you danced in the “I’m A Slave 4 U”
video and the way you lip-synched your way through your HBO concert
special. The idea of faking your way to a corporate paycheck is
ruled right here with your ex-husband. You were the Estelle to my
Frank, the Helen to my Morty, the Elaine to my Jerry.

In the annulment papers your lawyers filed the day after
“The Night of George,” it reads: “Plaintiff
Spears lacked understanding of her actions to the extent she was
incapable of agreeing to the marriage because before entering in
the marriage, the plaintiff and defendant did not know each
others’ likes and dislikes, each other’s desires to
have or not have children, and each others’ desires as to a
state of residency.”

My lawyer, Jackie Chiles, spells out my response as so:
“Whatever Britney likes, Jason likes; whatever Britney
dislikes, Jason dislikes. Jason desires to perform the act of
child-making as often as possible, with children serving as a
possible result. For residency, no matter the state, Jason wants to

It says, “The Moops.”

I made a mistake. I will do anything to have my darling B.J.

I’ve talked to my agent and “Crossroads 2” is
not out of the question. There might even be room for you in
“Dunston Checks In … Again.” Or, how about a
ménage-a-trois with Justin Timberlake?

— Jason Alexander cannot be reached personally, but
instead through his publicist/ghost-writer Todd Weiser at

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