DON’T GET US WRONG. We love America’s Next Top Model, the reality show in which women compete to win a modeling contract. Hell, we’ve watched every episode—even back when Janice Dickinson was one of the judges and her possum-in-heat voice made us want to dig our eardrums out with a spork. And we’re not saying we don’t go a little crazy over host Tyra Banks ourselves—it’s pretty much “shush” time around Seattle Met HQ when the CW network deigns to broadcast Tyra’s glowing tribute to anorexia in America.
But that’s the thing: We shush whoever interrupts our Tyra fix. We don’t try to kill them. Tell that to the Columbia City woman who in April stabbed another woman who wouldn’t shut her trap during an episode. They were sitting in the apartment, enjoying beers, and watching the show. One of them cheered too loud, was asked to leave, but refused. There was hair pulling, and then one of the women grabbed a paring knife and went Dr. 90120 on the other lady’s chest and neck. The police found her sprawled on a couch with a blood-soaked towel plugging the half-inch-wide canyon cut into her bosom. The victim was rushed to Harborview and barely survived.
Not two weeks later, in Northgate, a brother and sister, who are roommates and both in their 20s, got into a spat when the brother wanted to play video games and sis wanted to watch Tyra. Violence ensued. The cops were called again. People, can we just calm down? It’s. Just. A. Show. Besides, if you miss an episode, you know it’ll be on again and again—and again; VH1 replays Top Model a billion times a day. Now, if chatty “transvestite” Dominique (the judges’ words) had won this season instead of “juicy” plus-size Whitney, that might be a reason to start hurting people.