An Open Letter to 30 Rock

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Dear 30 Rock,

I understand it's your time to go.  I mean, you don't want to hang around for three extra seasons like The Office or How I Met Your Mother.  I just can't believe I'm now living in a world where I can't turn on the tv and find another clue that Kenneth is either an angel or vampire.

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You've taught me so many invaluable life lessons, like to live every week like it's shark week, to always dress like you're going to get murdered in those clothes, and to always come up with a third thing when listing things.  You've worked your way into my everyday life, from constant usage of "blerg" to the constant wondering if I pronounce camera correctly.  From you, I've gained self esteem, since I've never turned a $4,000 wedding dress into a ham napkin.

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I regret that I didn't start watching you right at the beginning.  We could have had so much more time together.  It took a rainy trip to Miami where my sister and I watched the entire first season in three days to bring us together.  All of the sudden I understood the glory of Dr. Spaceman, the importance of wearing a tux after six, and that you may need to rethink your relationship if you see your boyfriend on To Catch a Predator.

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I grieve, but I know you're going to a better place, where "Werewolf Bar Mitzvah" is always playing, the moon always knows it's day, and you get to marry Astronaut Mike Dexter and live happily ever after.

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I love you.  I'll miss you.  Shut it down.

Always, 

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