[Remember That Time On LOST is a daily post running the entire month up until the season premiere of LOST on February 2nd. I’m going to just pick something awesome, noteworthy, or ludicrous about LOST when I wake up that morning, and hopefully get you geeks talking about it with me.]

Just when you thought that the Island couldn’t get any more dangerous, it turns out that there was a god damn hydrogen bomb on it. Don’t worry though, it’s called Jughead, which makes it really cool and non-intimidating. The whole “there’s a fucking hydrogen bomb on the Island” storyline is interesting for two reasons. First off, there’s a hydrogen bomb on the Island. And secondly, the US Army has somehow found the Island.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I always thought that the Island was pretty hard to find. It bends time and space around it, and you need an absolutely gorgeous physicist or his mother to find it. And yet, here was ole’ Uncle Sam and the Empire rolling up onto the Island ready to test a nuclear device. Seems about right, right? They find an absolutely luscious Island filled with splendor and merriment, and they want to detonate a nuclear bomb on it. Wipe it all out in the name of the Cold War!

It seems too convenient that the US Army just stumbled upon an ancient Island filled with Smoke Monsters and Ancient Statues of Gods Whose Names I Always Forget. I mean, it’s LOST, everything has to have some significance, right? Or is the US Army only significant because of what would happen later? So it raises the question, who in the US government knew about this Island? If anyone? Or did they just come across it, an unplotted Island, and decide it was the perfect place to detonate a bomb?

Maybe the US government, fresh off of losing Steve Rogers to the seas, and scared of the imminent threat of nuclear war of Godzilla, was hoping to create their own super-animal-thing by irradiating one of the wild life on the Island. Who are you going to take in a fight, an enormous lizard, or an enormous polar bear? Or boar for that matter. Everyone thinks that Godzilla is bad-ass, but I think the dude hasn’t thrown down with the rest foes. A moth? And get the fuck out of here with Robo-Godzilla. The guy had like four points of articulation, that’s no way to build a death device.

And then there’s the actual presence of the nuclear bomb. Depending on what geek you’re arguing with, Jughead is either the means via Jack for the group to reset reality and prevent Oceanic 815 from ever crashing, or it is the culprit behind the Incident that brought them down in the first place. I prefer the latter, since it fits in with them being the source behind their own misery, but I think Jack will end up being correct.

Either way, the hydrogen bomb is important as fuck to the overall arch of the story, and it is pretty bad ass. People forget amidst the Dueling Deities, and Ben and Widemore being totally at each other’s throats, that it was the US Army, with the dumb hydrogen bomb, that probably caused the mess in the first place. At least of Jack, and Kate, And the Iraqi Guy With Shitty Hair. All in the name of Super-Cow, so they could rumble with Godzilla.

[Remember That Time On LOST is a daily post running the entire month up until the season premiere of LOST on February 2nd. I’m going to just pick something awesome, noteworthy, or ludicrous about LOST when I wake up that morning, and hopefully get you geeks talking about it with me.]

It was the four-toed statue that saved my relationship with LOST. For a while, LOST and I had been fighting. It was the same fight I get into with all my significant others. “I’m bored!”, I screamed. “You’re always bored!”, it screamed back. “We don’t do anything!” I yelled. “We do tons of stuff!”, LOST responded. “Yeah, like WHAT! Tell me one thing we do.” LOST stared at me. There was a silence that filled the seconds and bloated them into minutes. “We uh”, LOST responded sheepishly. “We uh, we debate faith versus reason! And we hang out in the Hatch, and stuff…”

“You don’t open up to me, either. I don’t know anything about you! Why won’t you let me in, tell me your secrets,” I commented resentfully to LOST. But LOST just stood there, having nothing to say to me.

And we split.

I really thought I was done with LOST, halfway through the second season. To this point, I haven’t written much about Season Two, because well…I don’t remember much of it. I quit on the show. There were all sorts of ludicrous hiatuses, and the plot was just dragging, and dragging. So I said fuck this, and I stopped watching.

Months passed, and I sort of missed the show. This was before I had a DVR, so I had fallen behind and I didn’t have any means to really catch-up, even if I wanted to. And I told myself that I didn’t. But I had an unacknowledged interest in the show, it loomed in the back of my brain. Deep down inside, I wanted to know what the fuck was going on. I still wanted to know what the fucking Island was, I wanted to know what was up with Smokey, and Desmond. But the grind of watching week after week as the show went nowhere had worn me down.

I was done! No, seriously! That’s what I thought, until I found out about the foot.

It’s odd that I can remember the very day that I decided I was going to give LOST a second chance. It was July 4, 2006. I was over my friend Dave’s house for a pool party, to celebrate the lovely birth of our Empire. And by celebrating America’s Independence, it wasn’t like we were at a parade, or even like, rattling off favorite Amendments. We were being American. I was completely drunk off of some ungodly concoction called Pirate Punch, stuffed with shredded and processed former-meat, and spinning idly in a pool.

My friend Jesse was still watching the show, a much more faithful viewer than myself. And because I was curious deep down inside, I asked him what had been going on. I recall spinning round and round in a floaty tube, as he told me all about the electromagnetic pulse, and the Others kidnapping Jack and Kate and Ana Lucia getting shot in the dumb gut. And I thought it was all cool, because I really wanted to like the show. But then he told me about the giant statue or a four-toed foot, and I was all like

Whaaaa, dude, what the fuck? Huh! Four-toes! EXCLAMATION POINTS

I couldn’t help but think that it was the coolest thing in the world. Tell me more, I had to know all about it! Where was the rest of the body? Are you sure it only had four toes? Holy crap. I don’t know if I found it that amazing, or if it was the clear rum, peach schnapps and fruit punch sloshing around in my gut, partying with what was probably fourteen hot dogs, a cavalcade of tortilla chips, and a loose hamburger.

The plot by LOST worked. I was intrigued again. I had to know what was going on with the show. The new wrinkle in the Island was yes, another mystery I wouldn’t find out the answer to anytime soon, but it was also another layer of intrigue to the already incomprehensible going-ons of the Island. It was a ploy, and it worked, and I guess I don’t really feel bad about it.

I smashed in the digital video discs for Season Two when they came out, and I worked my ass up to this part I had heard about regarding feet and ugly sandals, and epic oddity. People dog on spoilers, but it may have been spoilers that got me back into the show.

And when I saw the sandal, I thought, oh snap! A familiar refrain when you’re watching LOST:

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any more weird, LOST has again blown my damn mind

All of the Season 4 and Season 5 epic nature would have been something I missed if it weren’t for that dumb foot, that new layer of mystery, and a drunken day in a pool.

[Remember That Time On LOST is a daily post running the entire month up until the season premiere of LOST on February 2nd. I’m going to just pick something awesome, noteworthy, or ludicrous about LOST when I wake up that morning, and hopefully get you geeks talking about it with me.]

LOST started off pretty fucking creepy. I mean, before it plummeted into mundanity for the majority of the first season, they kicked the shit off with thunder. The initial crash is still one of my favorite scenes ever. Watching people walk around, completely rocked, the perpetually firing engine in the distance? C’mon, that shit is fantastic. The running around, the screaming, stupid Shannon sitting there useless as always, Jin firing off Korean you can’t translate, but probably something like “Beautiful Slave, despite the crash I require food, I shot dudes for your Dad, now I hunger!” And then there is the most iconic moment for me, which is when the dude gets sucked into said engine. Priceless.

But that creepy vibe swept through the entire two parts of the Pilot. From the initial scene, to Smokey eating the crap out of the pilot Seth Norris, to the creepy distress call that the gang pick up from the Battered Piece of Human Bark We’ve Come to Call Rousseau, the entire Pilot gave you a case of the skincrawlies! The fucking skinscrawlies!

Nothing was creepier to me than the crackling broadcast that the Cool Kids came across when they finally get the plane’s transceiver working. As Sayid turned that radio on expecting milk, cookies and a rescue party, the dude realizes that there’s another transmission being broadcast from somewhere on the Island. The intrigue! And, in case you didn’t know, it’s common knowledge that there are few things creepier than crackling recordings in foreign languages. There’s something about the foreign nature of the tongue, combined with the poor quality of the transmission that casts a foreboding feeling.

It wasn’t like I expected the receiver to actually get them help. I mean, even the daftest of douchebags had to realize they weren’t going to be saved any time soon. But I guess I just wasn’t expecting it to work at all. So when the transmission began broadcasting, I did what any asshole did. I leaned in a little closer towards the TV screen, as if that would give me the ability to hear the transmission better, and translate it.

Note: I don’t speak any French.

Thankfully for the people of the Island, and for the viewers at home, Little Ms. Hot Stuff Shannon can speak French. Of course they have to cajole her into speaking it. She’s all, no, no, I couldn’t, I can’t! And then the next thing you know she’s a fucking advertisement for the success of Rosetta Stone or some shit. Inbetween crying for no good or acceptable reason, Shannon begins to let the rest of the people around her just how fucked and doomed they are. At least it’s coming from an attractive person. If Hurley was vomit-burping up the translation stinking of Hot Pockets, I personally would have taken it a lot worse.

I’m alone now. Uhm … On the island alone. Please, someone come. The others, they’re … they’re dead. I-it killed them. I-it killed them all.

Not bad, Shannon. Not bad at all, considering it was coming through shitty reception in the middle of nowhere. I find your faux-humility to be egotistical! And preening! Fuck you!

In what could only happen in a television show, Sayid finishes doing some rough math in his head at exactly the same moment that the translated bit of gloom is beginning to register with everyone. Judging from the frequency of how often it replays and this and that and blah blah blah…FOR REASONS, he can figure this out: Hey guys! Guess the fuck what! Think all that garbled French translated into English sounds shitty? Well, it’s been running for sixteen years!

In response to this, Charlie says what everyone at home is thinking:

Guys…where are we?

Dude Charlie, guess what. It’s been six years, and absolutely no one fucking knows. None of us. Maybe you’re on a crashed Battlestar Galactica. Maybe you’re on Atlantis. We have no idea.

The distress call is clutch, because it lets everyone know that they’re not just a bunch of unlucky assholes caught on a bad flight. They’re stuck on some Island with a monster, and there are other people out there. Being murdered for reasons unknown. All of a sudden the trees in the distance look just a bit more haunting. Who the fuck knows what or who is out there.

There appears to be some serious shit going on, and your biggest problem is that you’re a Whore On The Run From The Law or you can’t find your shitty acoustic guitar. There’s a mad French woman ready to ventilate your body with bullets.

As well, it also lets them know that they can expect help to come sometime between never and you’re fucked. If this sneaky french women was marooned here sixteen years ago and the message is on repeat, then you guys are going to be there for a while too. It’s time to start partitioning out your heroin, Charlie. You’re going to have to go on to some sort of Jenny Craig diet for addicts, where you only spend so many points a day.

You fucks are LOST.

[Remember That Time On LOST is a daily post running the entire month up until the season premiere of LOST on February 2nd. I’m going to just pick something awesome, noteworthy, or ludicrous about LOST when I wake up that morning, and hopefully get you geeks talking about it with me.]

It seems like a million years ago, but there was a time on LOST when Sayid spent the entire episode torturing the living shit out of Sawyer. And we’re not talking noogies, guys. We’re talking all sorts of weird shit that ultimately ended up with him stabbing Sawyer and being like, whoops, I just hit a fucking artery or something. Yeah dude, you did. And unless that greasy hair of yours can gift you magical powers of flight, you’re going to have to sit here and feel like a dick about it. Or, do what you did, and go and try and map the entire Island.

Either way, we know you’re sulking with understandable guilt. Dick.

It seemed like a weird way for the writers to go with Sayid. It was still early in the show, but they seemed to build him up initially under the irony that he was a veteran of the first Iraq war, who fought for the other side. Totally clever thing to do, right? Absolutely! I can just hear the writers pitching it to each other:

And uh, and uh! There’s a guy who bangs his own sister! Yeah! Awesome! And how about, how about there’s this guy who fought in the Iraq War except…except…it’s the first Iraq war! AND, AND, he fought FOR IRAQ.

But I won’t lie, I dug the little twist. What can I say? I’m a sucker for little twists.

But wait, then why is he torturing Sawyer?

If the whole twist is that Sayid is unique because he brings a human face to the other side of a war, why is he ganking Sawyer? That doesn’t make any sense to me. This is before Sayid was all special and destined and shit, mind you. Perhaps I shouldn’t even be wondering all of this junk, but it seems a curious character direction. They go through the sake of introducing Sayid as this nuanced guy who is supposed to provoke the viewer into questioning their idea of the other sides of war, and then they just have that guy fly off the hinge and torture some dude? Over an inhaler?

GUYS? HOW MANY EPISODES UNTIL THE SEASON FINALE? YEAH! WHERE WE BLOW UP THE HATCH? NO…NO, OF COURSE WE’RE NOT GOING TO SHOW WHAT’S IN THERE! DUH! SEVENTEEN EPISODES? HOLY SHIT! UH…HAVE THE TORTURER GUY TORTURE SOMEONE.

It just doesn’t make sense to me. Maybe I’m missing something. I miss a lot of things. Sayid goes from being an interesting character to being a violent caricature of an Iraqi. Brilliant.

But Ian, there was a girl’s life on the line!

Yeah, maybe…I guess.

And then there’s Sawyer. The dude uses the inhaler he doesn’t have as a means to get a kiss from Kate. This is after he lets Sayid torture him for a bit. Why! Why the fuck is all of this going on? I can’t really figure out why any of this is going on in the episode. Part of me wants to be like, well, they were just showing how quickly society crumbles when they’re on an Island for some assort. You know, Lord of the Flies. I mean, they’ve been hanging out eating mangoes for like five days and now they’re torturing people over inhalers. How quickly we fall apart without rules and structure. Are you yawning? Yeah, me too.

And that’s while Jack is hanging out and letting Sawyer get the crap tortured out of him. And we all know why. He wants in with That Chick With The Square Jaw. He’s all, yeah, torture the crap out of him Sayid! GO FOR HIS PENIS. THE PENIS. Or at least he should have. If anyone wants to torture me, go for the penis. I’ll spill on all sorts of embarrassing things.

The entire episode is really odd. We have a dude torturing someone, demolishing his interesting character. We have a spoon-fed 24-esque plot of by any means necessary, we have Jack just going along it with because he wants some pussy, and we have some guy going through torture because he’s uh, tortured in the past or something.

And the best part? No one talks about it now! It’s like, a whoopsie-daisy or something. Water under the bridge! If someone tortured me and then stabbed me in a fucking artery, I wouldn’t be playing bridge with them a couple months later. No way, we would not be taking trips to Taco Bell late-night anytime soon. And I’d definitely be like, guys, stay away from that guy, if you take the last Dharma chocolate chip cookie, he’s going to fucking stab you.

But no one says anything!

Must be the hair.

Pepsibones and I are into truly weird shit. Like, odd shit that makes us feel like we’re taking the mind-altering substances we either cannot procure, or are too sissy to take. So when my friend Patrick passed along a new project he and his friend Bryan are working on, taking old VHS tapes from their library and editing them and making them generally more uncomfortable and amazing than they already are, I was like, fucking awesome. There’s a great one involving the New Kids On the Block, and a dope pizza guy with a mullet.

And then there’s the one I’m posting here.

It’s a mash-up of a Gucci Mane mixtape and the 90s German sci-i film “Bodo.” So if you’re in the market for hip-hop, or odd german sci-fi flicks on VHS, you’re in luck. It features beats, and some chick smoking and almost making out with a pre-pubescent. Why aren’t you already watching?

I showed it to my friend Brandon, who commented:

this has got to be one of the more fucked up things i’ve ever seen, which gives it that much more love

that roboto is a fucking pervert too, so i like him the best

that monkey just made me shit my pants

Well said, Brandon.

It’s weird shit, and strangely hypnotic. There’s something really creepy and odd about VHS in general, isn’t there? I mean, nothing seems dirtier and more erotic than old-school porn on a fuzzy VHS.   Check out the rest right here.

Holy fucking shit, He has returned. After restoring my faith during the summer, the messiah that is Pepsi Throwback is once again gracing mere mortals with His presence.

For those of you who have been living under a rock (or, more appropriately, not watching the NFL Playoffs and the accompanying ads), Pepsi has made the no-brainer decision to release another limited edition batch of the Throwback. The beverage harkens back to the glory years of America, when you’d ask Michael Jackson what soda pop to drink. Oh yeah,  and back then Pepsi was made with sugar instead of the high fructose corn syrup they use on us future-dwellers. Sure, high fructose corn syrup might be cheaper to make but it isn’t nearly as tasty. So Uncle Sam can take his corn-subsidies and shove `em!

What’s that? You’re going to take a better-tasting beverage and toss it inside a sick-ass retro-can? Count me in.

I guess my only complaint is I now have no clue what to do with the can of Pepsi Throwback I saved from the original batch. Do I hold onto it indefinitely, waiting until I’m on my deathbed to crack it open? Or should I just pound it now and replace it with one of the new, better-designed cans of Throwback? Time will tell.

Go to the store now. Stock up. After the apocalypse hits, Pepsi Throwback is going to replace gold (with Mountain Dew Throwback functioning as silver).

In the post-apocalyptic market, this will buy enough gasoline to get my dune buggy to the burnt remains of Las Vegas and back again.

[Remember That Time On LOST is a daily post running the entire month up until the season premiere of LOST on February 2nd. I’m going to just pick something awesome, noteworthy, or ludicrous about LOST when I wake up that morning, and hopefully get you geeks talking about it with me.]

Hey Juliet! I like Juliet, a lot. Why, do you ask? Well, let me tell you. For starters, she’s a brilliant doctor who can speak Latin. She can handle a gun, she’s good with cars and she is headstrong. Also, she’s not a promiscuous whore like Julius Peppers With Freckles. And yes, if you really must insist: her cleavage is one of the reasons I pray to Odin every night and gave thanks for high-definition television. She is the belle of the Island, and yet everyone can’t seem to get over their dick-lust for Ole Linebacker Shoulders.

My fascination for Juliet really took off when you realize she’s some special uber-doctor recruited to mend the broken ovaries of lovely ladies on the Island. I mean, up until that point, she was just some beautiful doctor. Full of blond thunder and cavernous cleavage. But then she was recruited by the sexiest man ever, Richard Alpert, for a specific task. Make the shiznit in the ladies’ downlow on the Island start firing again. And also? This changed everything. For starters, it is the first time I can recall seeing the Others in a position of weakness.

For the longest time, they were just really creepy guys wearing beards and trying to kidnap Turniphead. They had an imposing presence. I always got the distinct impression that you didn’t fuck with these people: they were part of some traveling drama theater, complete with fake mustaches, and their equivalent of a guard dog was a ravenous Smoke Monster of doom. They had all the answers!

Except.

Except the the undercarriages of the ladies of the Others rotted at mind-blowingly fast rates. Like, really fast. Juliet checks out some wicked womb and ascertains that the woman is in her 70s. Wrong! Try 26! That’s some accelerated decrepitude. Like, Blade Runner quality rot.

It was interesting, because all of a sudden the Others didn’t seem so invincible. I mean, if they couldn’t reproduce, then what! Sure, they could keep bringing people from off the Island, but is that the answer? Wait, do they bring people from off the Island? Or is that Jacob? Or is Jacob really working with the Others? Or is that a trick?

Wait, fuck. God dammit, got myself into one of those LOST spirals. Did I mention that we don’t know anything about the show? Yeah, I think I did.

Anyways.

So the situation is really dire, you know? And Ben deploys the Right Hand of Awesome to the mainland for some recruiting. You know, the Mayor of Gotham. That’s right, Richard Alpert. He tantalizes Juliet with the possibility of working on the aforementioned rotting womb and uteral lining. Doctors are weird. If you asked me to stare at a rotting womb, I’d tell you to get the fuck out of my face. And then probably ask for the Youtube Link, but still.

The possibility gets Juliet’s own uteral regions quivering with excitement. Unfortunately, Juliet tells Alpy Pooh that she can’t because her ex-husband wouldn’t let her. I don’t know the deal with her ex-hubby, other than he is a complete douche, and also happens to be the head of the research facility where she works. What an asshole.

Alpert is all like, what would it take to get your beautiful eyes scanning the rotting wombs of our women? And Juliet comments she could totally do it if her husband was taken care of, like:

If he were hit by a bus, how ’bout that, that would work.

And you’re like, haha! So cheeky, Juliet. I knew you were beautiful and intelligent, but your wit! Oh, acerbic and dark! Marry me! I’ll print your picture out and keep it my boxer briefs! That’s right, I wear boxer briefs! You think that’s sexy? Yeah, me too. It hugs my bum, but it also shows off my gorgeous quadriceps. Oh Juliet!

And then the next day? That unappreciative dickbag that was her ex-husband but now is a pile of mush on the pavement gets mowed down by a bus. While bitching out Juliet, no less. Karmic karate kick a-go-go, baby!

I mean, Alpert and Ben really wanted Juliet. To the point of using some sort of voodoo to smash a bus into her meddling ex-husband. That’s true ultimate power. And also, it speaks to either their desperation or their coldness. Ultimately you find out that Juliet is taken to the Island, which turns out to be a little different than a remote facility. Because instead of doing research at a facility she’s stuck on an Island with deities and pissed off balls of smoke and hobbits. Talk about getting screwed on a deal.

It’s an interesting moment, because they realize the Others, or whoever the fuck the ragtag gang being led by Ben truly are, are not omnipotent. Or even really cool. As Ben lies in the hands of Jack who has to salvage his rotting spine – ironic that such a little shit has a broken spine – we’re shown the recruiting of Juliet to save the vaginas of the fairer sex populating the Island.

[Remember That Time On LOST is a daily post running the entire month up until the season premiere of LOST on February 2nd. I’m going to just pick something awesome, noteworthy, or ludicrous about LOST when I wake up that morning, and hopefully get you geeks talking about it with me.]

Yes, John Locke, we are with you on this one. You are peering into the eyes of the Smoke Monster, and more importantly, fudging your poor tired underwear with your bowel linings. This is truth, but it also acceptable. Because as I said, you’re staring at an amorphous cloud of black smoke, capable of replicating human form, churning with electricity, and making your 5.1 system wretch with screeches. The fact that you’re not weeping and shaking uncontrollably makes you a super bad ass.

I can’t be the only one who thought that the Smoke Monster was actually a dinosaur or some sort of beast when it was first teased, could I? I mean, they make it seem that way in the early annals of Season One. The dude mows down trees, has a bellowing roar, and I don’t know. Just generally acts all sort of dinosaur-like. But at the end of the first season, we finally get a glimpse of our boy Smokey, and it was really, really creepy.

While Jack and Locke and That Chick Who Fucked Over Malcom From Firefly walk back giggling to the Hatch with pieces of Artz still down their shirt and in the cracks of their ass, Smokey the Island Bandit runs into them. If I’m not mistaken, Smokey was just going for an afternoon walk when he saw a pack of assholes with bags of dynamite, and thought he should probably ask them what they were up to. Unfortunately, he was speaking only in caterwauls and eerily noises, and the whole conversation just went downhill fast.

Locke is ever the bad ass, and decides he wants to have a heart to heart with Smokey. And that makes sense, since he was down a pair of functional legs prior to crashing on the Island, and now he’s doing the jitterbug with the best of them. Walking towards the noise, you expect Locke to come across some sort of giant, menacing monster. The camera pans upwards, and I was expecting the dude to get eaten the fuck up.

Not so, true believers.

Not so, at all.

All at once Locke gets yanked the fuck off screen by something. If there’s one thing you should know about dinosaurs, is that they don’t have mechanisms for yanking and dragging. They’re more of a brute force sort of creature, and are best at gnashing and mauling. So already, I’m wondering what the fuck is going on. Quickly and very quickly, you’re given shots on Locke being dragged through the forest. And but, for a second, you get a teeny, tiny glimpse of something. And then you turn to your friend, like I did, and you go:

Dude, what the fuck, was that smoke? Huh! Rewind that fucking shit now!

Rewinding proves to be little more than useless, and all you catch is a good couple of wisps.

Ultimately, Locke gets dragged down into some pit. And he’s all like, Jack, let me go! I want to communicate with the Island! And Jack is like, you’re not going to be communicating with anything other than your dead relatives after Smokey The Plume Of Weirdness eats you all up. The Chick Who Has Linebacker Shoulders And Probably Would Have Prevented The Run Better for the Patriots Yesterday gives Jack some dynamite, and they toss it down into the pit that Locke is being dragged into. Kablam! Kapow! Dynamite goes off and makes a rumbling noise! And mind you also this: Somehow Locke’s lower extremities aren’t blown into mush. Those are some appendages indeed.

And then we see it: The Smoke Monster. Welcome to the mythos, stalwart mystery of the show.

Smokey wisps and curls away, pissed off that he just wanted to prevent a forest fire, and these pack of digs tried to blow him up. And I don’t know about you, but I sat there with my jaw agape. I yelled in something approximating all capital letters:

DUDE WHAT THE FUCK THAT WASN’T A DINOSAUR WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON I KNEW THIS SHOW WAS COOL AND ABOUT MORE THAN GOLF COURSES AND A HOBBIT ADDICTED TO HEROIN! HIGH FIVE! NO SERIOUSLY, HIGH FIVE

The first time you see Smokey is dope. They took something that ultimately was going to be lame as hell – a dinosaur or some beast-type shit, and so help don’t tell me it wasn’t going to be that – and made it something all the more odd. You could be a dick and tell me they just bought themselves more time to figure out what it was, but dammit, leave your cynicism at the door. No matter what Menacing Monster looked like, it was going to be a letdown to some, and defended fruitlessly by fanboys like me. Instead, they do one better: The make the monster capable of looking like, well, anything.

I certainly wasn’t expecting a ball of smoke to blow up trees, eat people, and prevent forest fires. That’s for fucking sure.

[Remember That Time On LOST is a daily post running the entire month up until the season premiere of LOST on February 2nd. I’m going to just pick something awesome, noteworthy, or ludicrous about LOST when I wake up that morning, and hopefully get you geeks talking about it with me.]

I know, you think that a dead guy would be better at hiding. Fuck!

Who, or what the fuck, is Christian Shephard? It’s something I’ve been asking since I saw him walking around the Island all very undead-like. I mean, I know a few things about dead people. For starters, they’re always wearing too much make-up at the wakes. And secondly, and most important to my point: they don’t move or walk around. There is one fable about some Zombie Guy who pulled off this feat, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t more than superstition. So that makes what Christian is doing very, very impressive.

Remember that time during White Rabbit when we saw Christian walking around for the first time? Very cool. I champion anything on LOST that pushes the show into the upper-echelons of oddity and absurdity. So when it happened, you can only imagine how enthused I was. This was prior to the show really losing its mind, so I was excited as all hell. Jack’s dead dad isn’t in his casket, and instead, Jack chases the Decaying Sweaty Papa Corpse through the forest, only to be encountered by the rumbling Oh-Shit sounds of the Smoke Monster coming to rock his ass.

Gulp!

Who or what the fuck is Christian? Dude seems to be the mouthpiece for someone. Is he really working for Jacob? I’m not sure I buy that. By helping Locke leave the Island and orchestrating the return of the Oceanic Six, it would further it seems to serve the agenda of Jacob’s Grizzly Bearded Enemy. And where does Christian dwell? In the shack where Jacob was thought to party, except, PSYCHE, Jacob chills in a giant foot. So what the fuck, Christian, who are you rolling with?

What are you up to, Christian?!

Tell us!

Also, there’s the whole, Facob taking the form of dead people – just look at our buddy Locke straight chillin’ in the casket at the end of Season Five. And furthermore, the Smoke Monster comes about as Jack chases his dad through the garden. Just like how Dead Guy Locke and the Smoke Monster are never very far apart. OMFG, pants-crapifying.   Is Christian the Smoke Monster, who is also Facob? Raise your arms to the sky and repeat after me:

Who the hell knows!

Maybe he is a good guy, rolling with Jacob. Smokin’ cigars and weaving looms and shit. He does seem to have a nice suit at the beginning of the show. When you’re dead, you probably have all the time in the world to work on thread-counts or something.

Yeah, I have no idea what a thread count is, but I know whenever I go to Target to buy a comforter with my girlfriend, a high thread count is important as hell.

I know, you think that a dead guy would have better fashion sense, fuck!

I don’t know what the economy is for dead people, but Christian seems to hit hard times on the Island after he dies and shit. He goes from a pretty svelte suit to some shitty dress shirt, and he buttons the top button? What the fuck, Christian! Are you too busy teleporting around time and space to brush up on your fashion sense in GQ? Or do you have some really weird hickey? Tell me dude, I need to know!

Christian seems to be serving some higher-power, whether it is Zeus, or Jacob, or Facob, or whatever. In fact, his entire family seems pretty fucking important. Or maybe it is just a coincidence that his son, daughter, and grandson are all brought to the island. That would be awfully convenient. Or terrible. Actually, awful. Yeah, an entire family marooned onto an Island and caught up in some sort of Cosmic Chess Match between two bored as fuck deities.

The first time we see him though, we ain’t concerned with that. We’re like, hey, White Rabbit! And oh, there Jack goes following him into the woods. Oh LOST, you’re so very literary.

24 kicks off again a week from today. And unlike LOST, which I enjoy because it is bizarre, thought provoking, and mind-bending, I enjoy 24 because it is predictable slop. There was a point where I gave a fuck about 24, and took it seriously. Probably for two more seasons than it deserved. But now I tune in just to see Jack Bauer say shit in a gruff voice, have people beg him to save the day, and then watch him begrudgingly come back and kill four-thousand people.

The last couple of seasons I’ve gave up midway, since they seem to rocket their load off our faces like eight episode in. Question: How do you top an invasion of the White House? You can’t. Why they’d have that happen in the middle of a season is beyond me. Or a nuclear detonation. So I get bored, and then I give up on it, and then enough time passes where I forget how bored I was with the show, and I tune in again. And here I am again.

I have a special incentive this season. Katee Sackhoff, who played Starbuck on BSG is totally joining the CTU gang. It is a cheap ploy, guaranteed to get people like me watching. I mean look at the promo pic; they’re so very Kara Thrace. Pursed lips? Check. Viper Pilot-esque clothing? Check. If I see Starbuck and The Guy from Lost Boys mowing down a bunch of people at the same time, I’m going to rupture the Earth with my fangirl scream.