An Open Letter to The Simpsons
I've done it to myself again. I waited in giddy anticipation for you to show up last night. I was all dressed up and waiting to go. Oh, you showed up all right, but I think it would have been better for you to stand me up than to show up with five day old stubble and stinking like a homeless guy who had just peed himself for the fifth time today. You let me down again and I'm writing to finally say my good-bye.
Itís actually been a long time coming. Iíve just been in denial about it because I didnít want it to end. Itís been a wonderful affair, a grand ride on this roller coaster of love and laughs. I mean, weíve been together since 1987! Thatís the longest Iíve stayed in a relationship of this kind. Kudos to you for that, really. You put a lot of work into the early years and I canít blame you for wanting to hang on to the glory. I just wish you could see it from where I stand. Youíve gotten fat and ugly. You let yourself go.
I thought I would give you one last chance to get your act together before I made the big break. Alas, you have given me no choice but to finally detach from the last shreds of hope that were binding us together. I must let you go.
Last nightís effort was, in a word, lame. I thought you would wine and dine me and present me with expensive tokens and bent-knee hand kissing in an attempt to keep me as yours. It wasnít until about 9pm last night, after thinking about it for almost two years, that I allowed myself to come to grips with the reality that you are no longer what I want, nor need. You have become televisionís Tom Glavine, hanging around only because leaving on your own accord would be to admit that youíre past your prime.
Iíve had my longest, most arduous televison affair with you. I would sneak out of a family family functions just to be with you on Sunday evenings. Ah, the things we do for love. And then there are the things we do when that love becomes old and tired because only one person in the relationship is even trying anymore. And try I did.
Ok, Iíll admit that there are other shows that warm the spot you used to have in my bed. Yes, Iíve been fulfilling my lusty need for immature, animated humor elsewhere, courting Family Guy and other Adult Swim residents to satisfy me in ways you just canít anymore.
After last nightís performance, I donít feel any guilt in discarding you without so much as a farewell pity fuck. I'm no longer going to slip into bed with you, and I'm not letting you back in, even if you claim you just want your albums back. Iíve been fooled by you before.
Weíll always have the past seventeen years. Iíll be happy to reminisce with repeats every night at 6 and 6:30 pm, reliving the glory days like a woman masturbating to memories of a long gone lover. I know youíre planning on putting out for at least three more years, but this is one lover of yours that wonít be dropping trou for you.
Good luck, Simpsons, and thanks for the good times.