Betwixted

Dear Bravo,

Henceforth, forthwith and a little dippety do, I am boycotting your network. You allowed this week's episode of The Runway to be a fiasco of the highest order. I was planning on using a more obscure word than fiasco from the French, German, Spanish, possibly even Swedish, Latin or English language, but I'm not that invested anymore. I considered just sending you a picture of a gesture. If the gay mafia and I were on good terms right now...

It has become quite obvious that you have taken the purity of The Runway and applied your television witchcraft. You have allowed The Runway to slink and sludge into a flaky triscuit of a show. I believed The Runway to be the only good in this mad, mad world. Instead, I have to see the last great hope for reality shows become a ghost of its past self.

With each passing week you have shown that which started as a competition based on talent, endearing itself to our hearts, has de-evolved into a parody of Survivor. No matter how many celebrities you try to lure me back with, I'm not biting anymore.

You can try and draw me back in with Bonus Videos of Dan Vos in his underwear and shots of what may or may not be outlined in the tight fit of the pants Nick made for him. Okay, I'm not gonna lie, that might work. But, no. No more.

I'm also angry that I couldn't use the latest Jack quotes in my latest post. "I'm against this whole charade. Did I pronounce that right? A--gainst. Yep."

Okay, maybe I got to use it, but I'm still flaming mad.

Run all the Criminal Intent marathons you want. Nothing can bring me back to you.

Except Kathy Griffin. I'll come back if you gives me some of that Kathy Griffin.

(spit)

I'm done.

Love,
Brent

P.S. I tried rearranging my roomate's rainforest into something "vulgar." The farthest I could go was "white trash." Plants being "vulgar" is impossible. Now, tell Nick you're really really sorry.

(spit)

Done.