An open letter to Michelle Rodriguez and Cynthia Watros:

Ladies, I’m not blaming you exactly. Let’s face it, we’ve all been there. You have a few too many at some sleazy beachfront tiki lounge and the next thing you know you’re duking it out with the Hawaii state highway patrol. Nobody judges you for what you did. Who among us has not lost a job because of our alcoholic tendencies, or spent a few nights in lockup in an island jail? As for community service, screw that scene! Personally, I wouldn’t be caught dead picking up garbage on some pristine Hawaiian beach, even if it meant that I could soak up 240 hours worth of sun, and work on my tan. No Michelle, you were right to take the jail time, you are a class act, through and through.

I understand why those pesky writers and producers had to “downsize” the two of you. You simply didn’t fit the corporate model! You were too hot for them to handle. But hey, who would want to work day in and day out on an innovative, well written, wildly successful television show, with a bunch of clean-living stuffed shirts like that anyway? No, you’re moving on girls. Your future’s so bright I gotta wear shades.

What I can’t understand though, what I just cannot resign myself to, is the fact that you both bought it like chumps. That’s right. Chumps. The Feminist Fangirl can’t stand it when writers go to all the trouble of developing strong, complex female characters, only to have them killed off like a couple of red-shirts in a bout of meaningless violence. How could you let them do it?
Maybe you aren’t really dead. Maybe you’ll come back from beyond. It is Lost after all. Right? Perhaps next week the revelations in Michael’s backstory will invest your deaths with so much meaning and resounding significance that I will weep with joy.

I’ll be waiting and watching. Godspeed, Ladies.

Yours,

The Feminist Fangirl