Hi, ho! The witch is dead. (Again.)

"Tomorrow, I'll be kissing her aerobicized ass, but tonight, let me dream of a world without Heather, a world where I am free."
-Veronica Sawyer, Heathers (1989)

Dear Ms. Heather Graham,

I have a bone to pick with you.

I'm not particularly fond of you. I get quizzed by the little lady often as to why I consider you the bane of my existence. I'm not sure if it's your wasted talent (or lack thereof) or your frightening teeth.

Your career started off innocently enough - gets discovered by James Woods (so you know who to blame), gets a couple of good gigs (though, I freely admit I thought you were awful in Swingers), make a name for yourself in Boogie Nights as a rollerskating teenage runaway porn star. You're a fairly hot blonde (so long as you do not showcase the pearly whites)- so, barring overexposure, your looks alone should carry you for at least 10 years.

Then it all goes wrong.

Bad role selection.

Good movies offered to you and didn't happen.

Reprise your role as a porn star.

Parodying your very existence in Hollywood as the token hot blonde. Twice.

Contributes to the downfall of mankind.

I continue to try to put a name to my disgust with you, Heather Graham. Then I read today...

ABC's Reasons Why Not

"Heather Graham's new sitcom Emily's Reasons Why Not has shut down production after just one show.

Despite a huge promotional push, the show ceased production after filming the sixth episode last Friday, virtually guaranteeing the sitcom's cancellation."

And my reaction? Giddiness? Satisfaction? "I told you so"-itis? No. What, then?

Exhaustion.

So you lost the sitcom nobody thought had a prayer? So what? I didn't watch it. I don't know anyone who did. And I don't care to double check that. I can't take it anymore. I've villified your bad judgment and those teeth, and I see you truly as a non-player. I read that headline and closed my eyes and asked the Good Lord why I can't stand your existence on the big and small screen when so many struggling actors with more talent in their pinky than you have in your curvaceous body can't catch a break. And the Heavens parted, and a calm came over me. It brought me happiness. Inner peace.

Let them go.

If I held on to actors who had enough success to escape the title "One trick pony," but never made "the leap," I would get sickened by the Karate Kid (Ralph Macchio), the Wonder Years (Fred Savage), and and the previously-mentioned Swingers (Jon Favreau). I need to enjoy that one shining moment, and move on.

I need closure. I need to let go. I need to recognize a b-movie actress and kick her to the curb when her 15 minutes are up. It's only right. In conclusion, as of this moment, barring her Martin Luther nailing his statement to the Church door on Christmas day, prove me wrong "comeback" not in serialized format... my affair with your wasted potential is over.

Heather Graham, you're dead to me.

Sincerely,
ME