Dear Shawshank,

     It’s not you, it’s me. I swear. I mean you’re amazing. You’re smart. You’re funny. Incredibly well-cast. When I discovered you, it was like… love at first sight. I didn’t care how much money you made and to me, you were pretty much perfect (you know, except all the “Sisters’ gay rape scenes” but that ended up being worth it when Kurgen beat the sh… but I digress.) What I’m getting at here is that ever since you hooked up with TNT, things have been… well… you’ve gotten a little needy. It was great when we saw each other every once in awhile because we’d just pick up right where we left off. But now it seems like every time I turn around… THERE YOU ARE.  And you’re not really ‘you” anymore. You’re censored and edited for television… and even though you’re still great… it’s just not the same. But I know there’s someone out there who will stumble across you at 2 AM on some idle Tuesday and fall in love with you, just like I did. But right now, I think I’ve gotten pretty much everything I can out of this relationship. I’m sorry and I wish you all the best.

Hit me back. Until next time…