Brandy, of the song “Brandy,” Issues a Point-by-Point Rebuttal

Dear Elliot,

 

I write regarding your latest song, which has received substantial airtime as of late (more, some might say, than is warranted). I write to address a number of striking similarities between the details described in your lyrics and elements of our brief affair at Asbury Park last summer.

 

As a threshold matter, Asbury Park is not, as you may know, on a “western bay.” Asbury Park, like the rest of the Atlantic seaboard, faces east. While this is a minor error, it is not one that a member of the maritime profession would make, although I note that you typically hire a navigator when you go out for the afternoon on your skiff.

 

I would also like to take issue with your characterization of my employment. Although I am in the service industry, I do not “work laying whiskey down,” but prepare expert recommendations for patrons, from a list of curated whiskeys and spirits. On that note, Barbatto’s Tavern and Small Plates has asked me to remind you that your bill of $236 remains outstanding.

 

And, speaking of Barbatto’s, I would like to address head-on your conduct as a patron there. Specifically, I did not appreciate you encouraging your friends in the manner described in full in the attached affidavit. While it was humorous the first time I returned from the kitchen to hear Mario, Joey, Eddie, and Big Phil call out, “Brandy, you’re a fine girl (you’re a fine girl) / What a good wife you would be (such a fine girl) / Yeah, your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea,” it was significantly less so each successive time, especially after Big Phil lost his job renting cars to tourists arriving at the docks.

 

As for the gift you gave me: I happened to see this braided chain for sale at Eternal Treasures Estate Jewelry just days before our final meeting. While I do not discount the possibility that the chain can be traced back to the “North of Spain,” the certificate that was included in the box only confirms that it originally belonged to Ethel Zimmerman, who bought it in the Catskills in 1946. And given that documentation, it seems a significant misrepresentation of both your generosity and your devotion to assert, as you do in Verse Two, that you came “bringin’ gifts from far away.” The certificate makes clear that Ms. Zimmerman resided 3.4 miles south, in Belmar.

 

And while I do recognize that you had the chain engraved, I must point out that it says “To Crissy.” I’m sure you understand my confusion, as you make abundantly clear in the chorus of your song the identity of “your lover, your lady.” Perhaps you intended to engrave it to “the Sea?”

 

Similarly, I also appreciate that you exercised discretion in depicting the more physical aspects of our relationship, if you may call it that. However, the poetic license you took in describing how I “could feel the ocean fall and rise,” I believe, strained credulity, even for common listeners. As for your assertion that I “saw its ragin’ glory,” the less said, the better.

 

Further, “at night when the bar[] close[d] down,” I was indeed stuck “walk[ing] through a silent town”: you specifically promised that you would pick me up. Where were you? I did not realize that “the sea” kept an apartment on the other side of town. And while I was admittedly relieved when you eventually sent an Uber to pick me up from Barbatto’s, that gesture is not comparable to personally meeting me after my shift, especially in light of the fact that you Venmoed me for said Uber immediately after. See attached receipt.

 

Lastly, though “my life, my lover, my lady is the sea,” certainly makes a satisfactory hook for your pop song, New Jersey state child support statutes are clear regarding one’s financial responsibilities to one’s offspring, regardless of the parents’ marital status. Also, Little Phil would probably like it if you stopped by to meet him one of these days, perhaps when your navigator has the day off, and you’re just hanging around the harbor.

 

Respectfully yours,

 

Brandy