Say what you will about God, but when that holy being giveth, it sure as hell do taketh away too. Every once in a while you’ll think, wow the almighty just gaveth me this nice thing, surely this time there will be no taketh to follow. Because who’s that consistent? But, lo, mere minutes or hours or days later, there comes the taking. 

Hey, Deep Impact is really good, we thought back in 1998. What a gift! And then not even two months later, God was like haha fooled you, here’s a much worse asteroid movie that’s going to taketh all of Mimi Leder’s thunder. You finally find a pair of jeans that fits you perfectly, and then only a few wears in, there’s a hole in the crotch because God had already taken your good sense not to buy clothing from random Instagram ads that bedevil you with some model who looks like a hotter version of the line cook at the restaurant you worked at in college. You know, stuff like that. 

The latest example? This episode begins with one of the greatest giveths of all time: they done murdered Mr. Colton. Can you believe it? Calllooh callay, happy day, I was already writing recap hosannas in my head as I watched the early scenes of this eventually accursed hour. The sociohunk was slain at last, in embarrassingly ignoble style. He didn’t go out in a blaze of glory at roundtable, either as a told-you-so faithful or an ain’t-I-a-brilliant-stinker traitor. No, he was shanked in the night by his best bud, collateral damage in a successful plot to leave Rob as the only traitor left. Rob—who I am beginning to think might also be evil, but in a way that I don’t mind nearly as much for whatever doe-eyed, molasses-voiced reason—executed a brilliant and tricky maneuver and Colton still went out saying he hopes Rob wins. Colton the big dumb terror of Santa Monica Boulevard departed a total chump, and that is a great and glorious thing. Praise be to on high. 

I watched most of the rest of the episode in a sort of milky, satisfied stupor. There was Alan, looking like Professor Frink’s light-loafered brother, bidding Colton a blunt adieu. There were all the people turning suspiciously toward Candiace and her bogglingly stupid throwaway vote last week. (That somehow didn’t splash back on Rob? It’s truly crazy that he managed that through sheer charm and enchanted snake tattoos alone.) Everything floated by so peacefully, because Colton was not there stinking up the air with his Recently Out by Club Monaco fashions and smug strutting and everything else that made him so unpleasant.