A TV viewer's desperate plea

Dear Hollywood,

By the time you see this, I'll be long gone. I'm sorry for doing it this way, but it's for the best. I know it may come as a bit of a surprise to you, but I just need to clear the air:

It's not me. It's you.

For five long years I've been loyal to you, tuning into my once-beloved "Gilmore Girls" each Tuesday night. Week after week, I hope beyond hope that this might be the episode that will restore Rory and Lorelai to their glory days of witty chitchat and dreamy boyfriends.

And week after week, trashy plot twists and wooden dialogue shatter my hopes. Every time I turn off the television at the end of the show, it's as if a little piece of my soul dies.

I thought you loved me, Hollywood; I thought you cared. But now I can see that it was all just an act, an elaborate ploy to draw me in and take my money. We were supposed to be above all that, or did those long nights snuggling in the warm, blue glow of the TV screen mean nothing to you?

You've changed, Hollywood. Gone is the fast-paced, political banter in the halls of "The West Wing." Forgotten is the bravado of sexy, swaggering "ER" pediatrician Doug Ross.

We were happy once, Hollywood. Remember watching "Old Yeller" together and crying for the dog that had to be put out of his misery? If you take only one thing from our time together, let it be this: Give these middle-aged shows the "Old Yeller" treatment. Take them out back and shoot them.

I wish it didn't have to happen this way, but it was the little things that killed our love.

It started with "ER." After 14 long, dramatic seasons, it was inevitable: There are only so many reasons for an emergency room visit. At least once a season, there is a woman with mysterious bruises and a chronically angry husband who claims she fell down the stairs. And then there's my personal favorite: The young, gorgeous woman who brings in an older heart attack patient and turns out to be his prostitute. It's heartbreaking to see something you once loved fall so far.

Even spin-off king "Law and Order" has not escaped this fate. After all, how many times can an audience bear to hear that trademark metallic clanking after every commercial break? And then there's the formulaic opening to every episode, with banal and entirely irrelevant chatter between two unimportant characters who, in the midst of their daily lives, stumble upon a dead body that some careless criminal has left exposed in a pool of its own blood. "Law and Order" would have us believe that no one tries to actually hide bodies anymore. I just can't take it, Hollywood. I feel like you've lost touch with everything that made our love so special.

We did have our moments, you know. There was the time when Dr. Ross gave that 11-year-old a tracheotomy in a drainage pipe in the middle of a torrential downpour. And the time when President Bartlet called the "Butterball" hotline for advice on a Thanksgiving turkey. But honestly, I think we've just grown apart. Please don't cry. It'll be easier for the both of us.

I'll never forget you, Hollywood. I hope we'll always be able to stay friends, but please don't try to call me anymore; I've had my phone number changed. So take care of yourself. And give me back my purple sweater.

No longer yours,

Nora Boedecker
(Formerly) loyal viewer