A person doesn’t become a pioneer of rear-entry scenes without accumulating a few detractors. Ryan Murphy’s haters are a diverse group: from the Parents Television Council, predictably wishing sex and other interesting things off the airwaves, to former fans who are sick (Sick! Green at the gills!) of illogical plot twists and disappointing season finales (Nip/Tuck being the prime example), to people who speak in Gleek and whose messages I can only decode by their use of the hash tag “I hate Ryan Murphy” — their numbers are vast and their emotions punctuated by zillions of exclamation marks. People love to hate Ryan Murphy so much that they will subject themselves to the Glee movie three times just to try to understand their reactions in the most masochistic way possible. Some of them grouse convincingly: Ryan Murphy has offended television viewers of varying sizes, sexual orientations, genders, and people with mental and physical disabilities. Others (so many others) seem infuriated that Murphy was unable to craft a human boyfriend for them out of the Tate pages of the American Horror Story script.

Below, a brief history of Murphy gripes. Perhaps one day we’ll all find peace, if Gwyneth Paltrow is willing to step in as mediator once again; if not, prepare to don your rubber bodysuit in preparation for the fiery, emotional explosion when Glee inevitably runs out of steam. And get your fire poker ready.

Posted at 10:15 AM