An open letter to Rachel Ray

Dear Rachel Ray,

I know you come from humble beginnings, because I was there when you got your first TV job at WRGB News Channel 6 in Schenectady, NY. I sat around your table on camera and ate your 30-minute meals that were never as amazing as your over exuberant facial expressions would imply. Never in a million years did I think you'd be wasting valuable Food Network airtime someday.

I remember when we, the Channel 6 crew, got wind of the debut of 30 Minute Meals. I remember someone saying, "Who did she sleep with to get that gig?" Not that, you know, I would ever imply you've gotten any television gig by sleeping with anyone, because I'm not in the business of slander. In any case, it was but one show out of many, and I was content to let you slice it up any way you desired.

When $40 a day debuted, I started to get concerned. Frankly, Rachael, it was starting to be too much. Suddenly, I couldn't watch a single Food Network program without seeing your mug promoting this or that during the commercial breaks. Then somewhere, somehow, men across America suddenly came to the distressing conclusion that you were hot. You could have simply said "Thank you, men of America" and continued cooking up bland meals and gushing about how wonderful they were. But no, you had to take it a step further and pose for dirty pictures in FHM. I am forever traumatized by these images, Rachel Ray.

Now you are hosting yet another Food Network show, Inside Dish, where you go to celebrities houses and, I presume, gush over the food they cook. Gushing is a big thing with you, Rachael Ray. So is EVOO, which for the uninitiated, stands for extra virgin olive oil. If you would just call it extra virgin olive oil, I swear I would not want to inflict bodily harm upon you. But I do. Ditto on your garbage bowl.

Now my gay boyfriend is reporting that you recently appeared at the fourth annual South Beach Wine and Food Tasting Festival, where you "cooked a SoBe inspired meal in a bikini." And that, Rachael Ray, has brought us to the end of my rope.

Stop, Rachael Ray. Just stop. You have already procured at least four times more fame than you are deserving of. You are pushing the limits of my sanity. You are no Giada De Laurentiis. Your cooking is mediocre and your personality is grating. Why I can't seem to stop watching you boggles my mind. Kindly reverse whatever witchery you've visited upon the American people. Thank you in advance.

Love,
Jess