I know that this is a blog for silly pictures with stupid captions, but I’m too angry to be funny right now. Last night’s show has been bouncing around in my head all night, and for better or worse, I’m taking this opportunity to share my thoughts. Once I’ve gotten this off my chest, I promise to return to my usual antics. (If you have not yet watched the episode, I’d encourage you not to read further.)

RuPaul’s Drag Race has a proud history of letting one rancid bitch into the top three. Last night, the trend continued when Phi Phi was allowed a place in the finale over Latrice. The elimination was insulting to the audience for two reasons that I want to get into here, because understanding the source of my anger helped me realize something about my relationship to this show.

First, the choice to keep Phi Phi around assumes that we are too stupid to enjoy the show unless drama is unnaturally injected. The people making decisions have somehow latched onto the idea that it will be more entertaining if there’s someone there to cause trouble. This couldn’t be farther from the truth. I’d rather see three hours of Latrice sewing a dress than ten minutes of Phi Phi screeching about how fierce she is. Give us some credit: we tune in each week to watch the best queens turn it out, not to revel in the petty arguments caused by some insecure child.

Second, this choice assumes that we don’t know when we’re being manipulated. Phi Phi has been given free passes on her behavior and her busted look for far too long, and the idea that I don’t see that is preposterous. I know why she’s being kept around: she starts shit. Pretending it’s because the judges have suddenly fallen in love with her is absurd: her wigs are cheap, her make-up is extreme, her padding is off, and her attitude is atrocious. Are we really expected to smile and nod while the panel lies about her skills?

Here’s the bottom line: RuPaul’s name is above the title of this show, and every decision made comes with his implicit approval. By promoting the cattiest contestants, like Rebecca Glasscock and Tyra Sanchez, he provides his overt support for their behavior. He encourages fighting and animosity and espouses the belief that unpleasant and combative tactics should be rewarded over poise, grace, and wisdom. If these contestants were made more obnoxious in editing, that only worsens the situation: it means that a narrative in which bad behavior wins was deliberately constructed for our consumption.

With this in mind, I’m having trouble committing to another season of the show. I know that it’s absurd to demand integrity from a confection like reality television, but in the end, I enjoyed this series for its intelligent subversion of expectations. I never thought I’d live in a world where gay men competing to wear the most fabulous dress would be broadcast to the entire nation. In terms of breaking down walls and forging new frontiers, RuPaul and RuPaul’s Drag Race have set a high standard. But if it’s all going to devolve into a game of “bitches are fun to watch,” then I’m out. RuPaul is one of my idols, and I refuse to participate in a scenario that makes he and I both look like clowns.