Last night John Hodgman appeared on The Daily Show to discuss with Jon Stewart the End of Borders...and how brick and mortar bookstores might compete in the digital age with Amazon. Although I take exception to being called a snarky nerd (I left the snark at home when I worked at B&N), this is brilliantly funny.
As a result of last night's debut, I'm even more embarrassed than usual that I live in Dallas. Let me introduce the cast of characters:
It seemed very odd to me that the sub-text of that last related to how many of the adults the single mother knew. Turns out she only knew one of the five because she's newly back in town. According to these Brilliant Lights of Dallas, a single mother may only leave her baby with a sitter if she knows everybody at the table, leaving me to wonder whether these personages ever had baby sitters when they were young, or if their moms and dads never left the house after dark.
Rachael loved Most Eligible Dallas. I hated it, so much, in fact, that it made me long for the return of Rachel Zoe, perhaps the whiniest, most annoying toothpick on the planet. Harold...somewhere in the middle.
We were happy in our house last night; Javier Colon won The Voice. Rachael and I got the chills listening to his duet with Stevie Nicks (Rachael has loved that song since she was a child) and I actually plan to buy the iTunes download.
Which brings me to my next point: Why are we such conspiracy freaks in the U.S.? And why do people get so carried away over trifles while the important stuff doesn't hold our attention?
1) "Dia outsold Javier on iTunes, so the results must have been rigged."
2) "Vicci or Beverly were robbed because America can't handle a lesbian winning The Voice."
3) "Justin Bieber's fangirls robbed the rightful winner."
I can just imagine if the vote had gone a different way...would people be complaining that America won't vote for a half Dominican/Half Puerto Rican?
Okay, so how about this as a scenario instead: More of those who voted by text, phone, or online, whose vote counts were never revealed, voted for Javier. Gee...that's what I did, and I'm not a Justin Bieber fangirl. Neither is Rachael, who also voted for Javier. My husband didn't vote, but his choice? Javier. I don't think anyone would accuse him of being a Justin Bieber fangirl.
I, for one, rarely like a cover better than an original rendition. One reason I stopped watching Glee is because it started to remind me of that PBS show Rachael used to watch of teenyboppers "running" a TV station and putting out "music videos" of popular music. While I wouldn't buy his cover of "Angel" or Dia's covers of "Losing My Religion" or "Heartless," I will likely buy whatever CD he produces with his new record company. Then again, I'll probably buy Dia's too, because I've no doubt she'll sign with a label as well.
But back to the haters...after reading some great pieces on EW today, I couldn't believe the vitriol being spewed in the comments. It's a fucking TV show, people! GET. A. FUCKING. LIFE.
@ew reports all four coaches have signed on for season two of The Voice. Here's hoping the network and/or producers don't get greedy and ruin the show. I guess one more season with these coaches would be nice, but after that, pick some new ones. At lunch Rachael suggested Usher and Jennifer Hudson...I came up with Gwen Stefani, Pat Monohan, Bruno Mars, and Carrie Underwood.
Last night was the final competition round for The Voice, a show I started to watch after NBC promo'd it to hell and back using the gimmicky chair swivels. What can I say? Worked for me. Add to that Adam Levine, whom I've crushed on for years—and doesn't he just keep getting more and more gorgeous with age?—and Ceelo Green ("Crazy" and "Fuck You" are two of my favorite songs), and, obviously I'm there. Rachael came home from college after the first couple of episodes, and quickly became hooked. We now watch it together, faithfully, every week...usually joined by my husband, who sometimes watches it from his study as he's Working on Stuff. And this is why it's awesome...
Awesome #1: For those of you with decent relationships with your kids throughout the tough years, well, this won't make much sense to you, but for those who struggled...and I've recounted our struggles on both blogs...sitting down week after week and watching a TV show that we all enjoy is a relatively novel experience for us. I inherited negativity from my mom, and passed it along to my daughter, although she swears I'm the only one who calls other shows "stupid." We have a running gag in our house that whenever she deems a show or somebody on a show stupid, I say, "You are not allowed to say anything negative." That never happens on The Voice. All there is, in fact, is discussion during commercials, and though I'm not a Beverly fan, I feel the need to stick up for her because Rachael and her dad really don't like her. So the world doesn't need another Melissa Etheridge, okay, but I don't think the world needs a new Pat Benatar or Joan Jett either, nor does it need, in Dia and Xenia mashed up, another Nora Jones. What it does need, however, is the angelic voice of Javier, who shares certain qualities with Aaron Neville, but adds the sex of Seal and so much more. (That's not to say I didn't love Dia's renditions of "Heartless" and "Losing my Religion," or won't look forward to a slightly older Xenia when she learns to become comfortable in her own skin.)
Awesome #2: The best singers actually made it to the finals...and presumably, the best will win. With the exception of the early years on American Idol, which I stopped watching years and years ago, many of the most talented finalists don't actually win. Between that problem and the interminable audition shows, of which more and more were tacked on as the show became a juggernaut, I found that by the time I stopped watching AI, it had become a parody of itself. I understand this season's episodes were an improvement, but that again, the most talented singer did not win. Contrast that with The Voice, which weeded out the ridiculous and through the coaching versus judging experts, we saw not only Xtina's boobage each and every week on display, but more importantly, the development of true talent...and that Adam Levine is a very smart Jewish boy who knows how to play a game.Awesome #3: Most of the original song performances of last night showcased how shitty "A Moment Like This" really was. How many of you remember that as Kelly Clarkson's first single? It sucked big time; had she not had Clive Davis behind her (who tried and nearly derailed her career a few years later when she had the temerity to state the obvious), she might never have gone on to "Miss Independent," "Break Away," and "Since U Been Gone." None of the original songs last night are going to end up on my iPod, but they weren't treacle either.
Awesome #4: All the coaches with the exception of Christina Aguilera entertained me, and all have real knowledge of music, the history of music, and how, for the most part, to help their contestants shine. Whether it was Ceelo Green channeling Mad Max and King Kamahamaha in his duet last night with Vicci, Adam's one-liners, or Blake's wearing his fondness for Xenia and Dia on his sleeve, I loved to watch them. Yes, they didn't offer a lot of criticism on performance nights, but they weren't acting as judges on television. They were acting as coaches, and coaches do a lot of praising. When they showed the actual coaching sessions, you saw the coaching, the suggestions and changes, and the song choices, although I don't know, truly, how much input they had into those. The three male coaches charmed me; Christina Aguilera was a camera hog and it seemed to me, insecure about herself among her male counterparts. She also failed to initially choose a wide variety of finalists, which hurt her in the end. As for last night, how smart was Adam Levine that he chose a song sure to highlight Javier's abilities, even at the expense of his own? I love Levine, but he knows his limitations, and unlike Shelton, whose powerhouse of a voice drowned out Dia in their duet, he put his ego aside so that his finalist might win, even if voters were not supposed to consider the duets.
I'm sure there are more reasons why The Voice Is Awesome, but I need to read a book about a goblin now.
When I heard about the Rob Blagojevich conviction yesterday, the first thing that popped into my mind is how much he looks like Larry Bondurant, the character who married Carol Kester during the fourth season of The Bob Newhart Show. That reminded me of other separated at births, some of which I previously posted on my old blog. So as not to be mean to Dan Hill, I omitted his separated at birth.
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 | "Larry Bondurant"— although Will MacKenzie is who prompted today's blog, I cannot find a single photo of the actor online. Those of you who remember The Bob Newhart Show should recall the husband so obsessed with his "Red" that he won't let her out of his sight. |
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I just finished showing my husband @BillMaher and @janemarielynch reenacting the cyber exchange between Congressman Anthony Weiner and a blackjack dealer in Vegas. If you've not seen The Weinerlogues as read by Mahaer and Lynch, you've missed something brilliant.
That wasn't all that caught my eye when I finally got the chance this afternoon to watch Friday night's episode of Real Time. Although I'm a fan of The Voice, I loved it when Maher fretted that all of TV will soon become CSI: Vampire Idol, "where forensics experts solve murders committed by sexy vampires singing show tunes in front of Steven Tyler."
But what caused me to laugh hardest during New Rules was when Maher, reflecting on Anthony Weiner's cyber sex life, puzzled about what teens get out of cyberjacking when they're not listening to "their hippipty hop records." I wish I could post a video clip, but can't...if you'd like to watch this week's New Rules, click here and link to New Rules Bill Maher, All Hand and No Weiner on Kick! Making Politics Fun.
In my first entry for today, I mentioned dashing off a quick piece in response to a tweet from Megan yesterday. It's just been posted online at Heroes & Heartbreakers.
I wrote about so-called Lady Pr0n in response to an article on a website for an NBC affiliate in Utah. Historical context always matters, and given that when I ran AAR we went through a similar controversy way back in 1999 that led to an article in Salon.com, I wanted to add my two cents, in an updated way.
As always, I'd love some feedback on H&H after you read my piece. Even though I had a fabulous, confidence-inspiring birthday yesterday, the lack of comments to my H&H articles, let alone the usual dead-silence here, feeds my insecurities. I can't help it; I need lots and lots of validation!
I think that subconsciously, watching Will Farrell's hilarious appearance on Conan O'Brien's show in early May gave me the idea for my new article at Heroes & Heartbreakers. It reminded me of a joke I heard back in the day. The joke kicks off the article. Feel free to watch the clip below in its entirety, but it's between 1:20 and 1:55 minutes in that it all started to gel in my head.
Putting a piece out there of on a topic such as this (you'll see when you read it) was not something I took lightly. I mentioned last week that I had a blast writing it, but that it took a lot of effort on my part to get to and maintain just the right tone...to write about a delicate matter and keep it light so as to be funny yet not be prurient, and to be revelatory enough while not exposing myself too much in the text. Hopefully I succeeded.
Because of the subject matter's delicacy, I feel a little squirmy knowing that people will actually read the article. On the other hand, I'm kinda proud of myself for tackling the topic in a funny way. Did I succeed? Please let me know by posting a comment at H&H after you read it.
This summer my husband and I are re-experiencing Northern Exposure, and on the second DVD for season one is the first episode in which Adam appears. Watching it reminded me that he is one of the all-time great television characters.
Enjoy!
A close friend of mine has a son who joined the armed services straight out of high school rather than going to college, not because he and his family were gung-ho hawks, but because he wanted to serve his country and because he thought it would help him become a man. He chose to become a grunt in the Marines; if he was going to do it, he was going to "do it right" by being on the front lines. He was injured yesterday in his second tour of duty in Afghanistan by IED attack. His injuries were considered minor, but the injuries of one of his buddies were far graver.
I think I've written before about the emotional dangers facing our soldiers, and that they seem to increase exponentially with each deployment. That's outside of the physical danger they face daily, and the unbelievable conditions in which they live. I remember the first time I saw this photo—these guys are sleeping, not dead—and having it hit home in a visceral way how brave these young (some as young as 18) men and women are; it's frankly unfathomable to me, in my air-conditioned suburban home surrounded by beautiful flowers and the ability to bathe and/or shower at will.
These "forgotten" wars of ours shame me, not only because we continue to fight them when the true enemies are elsewhere, but because they are forgotten. I continually wonder why we aren't exposed to these wars on a daily basis, on television, in newspapers, on online news outlets and blogs. Because of modern techniques more and more soldiers survive horrific traumas to their brains, psyches, and bodies that would previously have left them dead on the battlefield or in field hospitals. And yet most of us don't realize their survival comes at unimaginable costs to their long-term quality of life.
And now, I guess it's time to go shopping in order to support our troops this Memorial Day weekend.
My newest piece for the Heroes and Heartbreakers blog went online late this afternoon. I've been on sort of a writing frenzy the last several days, turning in two more spec pieces to the blog. This one, though, on why I won't be buying Dead Reckoning, Charlaine Harris' new Southern Vampire Mysteries release that goes on sale tomorrow, started forming in my head probably a month ago. Anyway, it goes from Sookie Stackhouse and Liz Phoenix to Eve Dallas, LOST, The Sopranos, and Mad Men, all in the space of about a dozen paragraphs.
I hope you'll swing by, read it, then post a comment. As for me, I'm still trying to take in the death of Osama Bin Laden...and yes, episode three of Game of Thrones.
To be honest, Richard Blais sometimes came off like a dick during this season of Top Chef, not giving any of the credit to Stephanie Izard for his loss to her during season four. But more often, Mike Isabella wore the mantle of asshole chef. During the last couple of episodes, though, he appeared to be more likable, while Blais' neurotic lack of confidence sometimes seemed to be a front to gain sympathy from the judges and other "cheftestants." (How ridiculous is that name, and is it worse than "celebreality?")
Last night, though, I think we saw the real thing from both chefs. Blais willingly delegated to his sous chefs (I worried that Spike wasn't at the same level as Antonia or Angelo, but wasn't he the one who suggested changing the foie gras ice cream?), while Isabella, no doubt immensely talented, wasn't interested in taking any suggestions from Carla, Tiffani, or Jamie. Was that some of the same sexism he exhibited throughout much of the competition (and poor Antonia suffered the most for it when three got cut down to two)? Actually, I don't think so. I think Isabella followed his vision, and for the most part, he succeeded admirably.
Still, I think Blais as winner was the correct call, and I hope this will give him the confidence he needs to give his nasty little "you're not good enough" inner voice a rest. I'm familiar with that voice. So is my daughter. She called Monday to say she'd gotten an A on her philosophy midterm, which surprised her because she thought she'd earned a C+. Poor thing. She's experiencing precisely what I went through after each round of tests in college. I finally stopped fucking with myself in grad school. Hopefully it won't take her four years to figure it out.
I think this was one of the best seasons of Top Chef, even though I wish Angelo had made it into the finals. He against Blais...now that would have been something to see.
TMZ reported, the Washington Post picked up, and friend and fellow comedian Jim Norton confirmed: Greg Giraldo is dead at age 44 after an accidental prescription drug overdose over the weekend.
Although I stopped actively following his career awhile back, he was once among my favorite comedians; way back in 2003 I named him the most consistently funny guest on Colin Quinn's old Comedy Central show, and in 2004 referred to him as one of my Grown Women Crushes. In recent years, though, his humor became more bitter, although I thought him very funny when he guested on The Ref this year and always enjoyed his Comedy Central Roast appearances. It seemed to me he stopped being as funny and became more rage-filled and under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol as his marriage failed. That's when I stopped actively seeking him out online and on television.
Even so, I'm incredibly sorry that this man who brought so much laughter into the world left it the way he did. Rest in peace, Greg Giraldo.
You will be missed.
When House first came on the air several years ago, it captivated my family. We loved the misanthropic House, and one of the very few things we did together during that time in our lives was sitting down to watch it every week. And then in its last moments an episode turned me off the show so profoundly I stopped watching.
Since Rachael came home for the summer, she's happily watched the House marathons that air Saturday nights on Bravo. Early this summer I worked closing most Saturdays and returned home most midnights to find her and her dad ensconced on the couch, catching up on what they'd missed over the years (and re-watching episodes they'd already seen).
While my interest level never returned to that pre-horrendous episode level - and regardless of the show's medical accuracy - I never returned to my original level of interest, as the summer progressed and bookstore hours became fewer and more far between, I started to join them for those Saturday night marathons. Even after Rachael "got a life," (hooray!) and was no longer home on Saturday nights, my husband and I continued the ritual.
Last night Rachael was home, and as my husband is preparing for trial, it was just the two of us on the couch. We were engrossed in the 11:00 episode, Meaning, co-starring Kathleen Quinlan (from that perfect summer flick, Lifeguard, with Sam Elliott at his hunkiest, and also the star of that Private Benjamin movie-of-the-week rip-off She's In the Army Now) and then that last moment happened...again. I jumped up off the couch and practically screamed at the TV: "Now I remember why I stopped watching this show!" Forget how House didn't need Cuddy's permission to give the patient a shot of cortisol, once in the last moments Wilson suggests keeping from House that the simple shot allowed a nearly vegitative man in a wheelchair to walk again after eight years and hug his wife and son because it would only feed his ego - and she agrees - I could no longer tolerate another second. My daughter, dumbfounded, was shocked at my "passionate" response, and since it was now midnight, I left her to her own devices but was too wound up to sleep.
Instead, I reorganized my make-up drawer. BTW, if any of you are looking for some never used, others rarely used, Bare Escentuals eye colors, let me know and I'll send you a list of what's available so I can mail your choices for a pittance...basically postage and perhaps a tiny bit more. While I'm keeping plenty, many of the colors I bought once upon a time are either too dark for me now, or aren't cool toned enough to really suit me (particularly now that I've bought several more suitable purple and gray shades from Aromaleigh in their going-out-of-business sale - thanks again for the tip last month, Suzi). I've got plenty of colors in the purple/plum range, as well as several pinkish toned colors.
Okay...I tend to skip most commercials. Just last night I told my husband about watching an oddly catchy ad before a movie my daughter and I went to see yesterday for a Kia, starring rapping hamsters. He could not believe I'd never seen the ad before, but generally when the TV is on, I'm either doing something else, or watching something I've TiVo'd. When I do the latter, I skip commercials entirely.
For some reason, though, last week a new ad for the Amazon Kindle came on TV and I watched it. I loved it. It points out the ease and simplicity of the device, illustrates that you can read content on your Kindle in bright sunlight - which cannot be done with backlit devices that shall remain nameless, and used the whimsical music of their first stop-motion ad. A simple, highly effective ad likely more effective now that they've cut the price to $189. Enjoy.
Since Season 6 of Deadliest Catch began a couple of months ago, it's been like watching the Bataan Death March because we as viewers knew that Captain Phil Harris died early this year. As always, he's had boat issues, but the Jake Switch of the first episodes between the Cornelia Marie and the Northwestern showed Phil's humanity and a care for his crew underneath the bluster. Comparatively speaking, Sig's single-mindedness may serve him well as a skipper, but even his brother, always his biggest supporter, is tiring of the constant, unrelenting grind on the Northwestern.
Though Captain Harris' hapless moments are more than occasional, this season we also saw major triumphs for him as a fisherman. His understanding of crab digestion, shall we say (okay, fart bubbles), led to an early strong haul, and the precision fishing he engaged in over the last two episodes is something that apparently few skippers try, let alone succeed in doing. Through it all his sons have brought him great joy, and annoyed the hell out of him. Jake, the younger son, joined the crew of his dad's ship a season before Josh did, but clearly Josh has always had it more together than his little brother, and as the seasons have progressed, we've seen him grow into more of a man while his little brother never seemed quite able to set aside his childish ways.
In last night's episode, his lackadaisical behavior turned into incoherence when his dad tried to use a more positive approach to instill a greater sense of responsibility...to no avail. Later, with just a few moments left in the episode, Captain Harris' vision blurred, his back ached, and he seemed ready to pass out. He left the bridge to get his pain pills from his bunk - only to encounter son Jake stealing them.
What followed was a blistering set-down of son by father, including disowning on one side and pleading on the other. As a parent who's lived through some dicey periods and experienced this sort of ranting and raving out of fear for a child's life, I could not turn away from the TV even though I felt uncomfortable watching such an intensely personal tragedy. At the end of the yelling, Jake confesses he is an addict, and the episode ends.
I understand that in next week's episode, Captain Harris will have the stroke that eventually kills him, and the remainder of the season will continue the long death march. Reality TV has rarely been so poignant and real as the last few moments last night on Deadliest Catch. Pathos-filled, surreal and shocking, yet not wholly unexpected as a result of the episode's structure, the pain took my breath away.
Perhaps the best bit of dialog in last night's finale of Lost:
"Who died?" Kate asks.
"A man named Christian Shephard."
Kate laughs. "Christian Shephard? Seriously?"
"Seriously."
Until that moment, I'd never realized the meaning behind the name of Dr. Jack Shepherd's father, but in the context of the moment, with Kate seeing the coffin and Desmond acting all beatifically, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Oh...now I get it...Jack's dad has been there all along, in a religious, metaphorical sense, to shepherd his son - Christ-like himself at the end of his Hero's Journey - out of life as we know it.
But even as I write that, I'm still in a state of wonderment and awe about the two-and-one-half hours of television that held me spellbound after I got home from work around ten last night. Generally when I work both Saturday and Sunday nights, I sleep in on Monday mornings, but this morning, even though I stayed up until two or so to watch Jimmy Kimmel Live after watching the finale, I woke up early, and immediately my mind went back to Lost. It's too early to say for certain, but it feels as though my reaction to this finale is going to be as strong as it was to watching Brokeback Mountain, which is to say...profound and long-lived.
I believe this to be the case even though I'm not quite sure what the hell happened last night. And after this morning watching the two-hour pre-finale show, I'm even more confused. Questions I haven't had in years resurfaced, like why did Desmond give himself a shot every day when he woke up in the hatch? And, after having been introduced more intimately to Jacob this season: If Desmond's not pressing the button caused the electromagnetic field to surge wildly and brought the plane down, was he unknowingly re-enacting a script written by Jacob to bring the Oceanic Six to the island?
More than anything, now that I think about it, it seems that the major events on Lost have both a real and a mythological explanation. Which expands the religious component exponentially, particularly if you've ever seen The Naked Archaeologist, in which Simcha Jacobovici often attempts to provide scientific explanations for biblical events. When I view Lost through that lens, it makes more and more sense.
I'm far less interested in explanations for some of the things that seem to bother others, like how the Egyptian statue of Taweret came to be on the island. Ever since Ben turned the donkey wheel, the island disappeared, and he landed in Tunisia, the answer was obvious: At some point in time the island was located off the Mediterranean coast of Africa. This year we learned it also popped up somewhere in the Roman Empire and between the Canary Islands and the U.S.
Answers to the island's mysteries have always been less important to me than the mystery of its characters, and both take a back seat, frankly, to what I believe was the show's biggest draw: its moral ambiguity, the dark and light, and the oh-so thorough investigation of unintended consequences. That said, this season's Sideways world is the mystery that continues to confound me, even after last night (because of timeline issues). Especially after last night. Even after I:
I'm sure many questions will remain unanswerable for me. And that's alright.
It's not that I'm such a Lost fangirl that I think the show's producers could do no wrong. Two weeks ago, for example, Jacob was revealed as a whiny mama's boy. And last night I found some of those Sideways "ah-ha!" moments a little too sappy, including those moments in the church at the very end, even as I lay crying in my bed. But during season one of Lost, I decided to sit back, enjoy the ride, and let the show's creators take me where they wanted to go. I have none of the animosity exhibited by many fans after the Across the Sea episode, just as I wasn't at all upset that David Chase chose to end The Sopranos as he did. It's interesting because I'm a professional critic and certainly don't have that attitude toward the books I review for Publishers Weekly, but it's how I approached Lost - likely because watching television is a more passive experience than reading a book - and I'm glad I did. Because now that the show has faded to black, I am sad that it's over, but glad for its many powerful memories, and indeed, for its many mysteries, answered or not.
Ever since ABC aired the feature-film-worthy pilot episode of LOST in September, 2004, I've been hooked. I have never missed a first-run episode, and while I'm a tremendous LOST fangirl, I wish I weren't the only member of my household to watch the show as it's one that cries out for discussion, argument, and rehashing. And at midnight last night, after I'd come home from work and turned on TiVo to see the producers kill off three of the series' lead characters, oh, how I wanted to talk about it with somebody, to cry with somebody over the loss of Jin and Sun and Sayid. Instead I read Doc Jensen's special immediately-post-show column to get me through today when his weekly re-cap column appeared. And now it has. I started to read "Sunk," then decided to take a break - to have more time for savoring - and write a quick blog about my feelings on LOST's ending in three more weeks.
Essentially I'm in pre-mourning, and have been ever since February when the first of season six's eighteen episodes aired. As a result I started reading Doc Jensen's online columns about the show so as to broaden and deepen my LOST experience before it all comes to an end. Although I'm a devoted watcher and have occasionally watched the sub-titled episodes that air when ABC has nothing better to show before new episodes, I've rarely gotten involved in the plethora of official/semi-official/unofficial LOST content available online.
Don't get me wrong...I think all the web tie-ins are pretty brilliant, but that level of involvement requires a keener eye than I have when I follow a TV show. I don't notice half of what other people do when they watch LOST, but when I do, I'm pretty damn proud of myself. Which is why I cannot fathom the bottomless fount of knowledge that exists in Jeff Jensen's head about the various philosophies, religions, writings, and other references that are a part of LOST, either as parts of major story or character arcs or in the multitude of little easter eggs created for viewers.
This isn't the first TV show I've loved. There are too many sit-coms - from Barney Miller to Seinfeld to Flight of the Conchords - to list - but outside of Star Trek: TNG, Twin Peaks, The X-Files, Highlander: The Series (which I came to, admittedly, late), The Sopranos, and Mad Men, I've never been so devoted to a drama as I have been to LOST. I gave up on E.R. when Dr. Mark Greene died, and stopped watching NYPD Blue after they killed off Detective Bobby Simone, but never have I been tempted to stop watching LOST, not even when they killed the Hobbit Charlie. I've been willing to turn myself over to the imaginations of the show's producers because LOST is the finest show ever to air on television. Even though stuff flies over my head on a regular basis, the storylines, character arcs, production values, and, in particular, the moral ambiguity that floats around...all of it contributes to a show I doubt we'll ever see the likes of again.
Even so, I'll obviously continue to muddle through my days after the two-and-a-half-hour finale scheduled for Sunday, May 23rd. I'm sure Jeff Jensen will as well, but what's he going to do with all that extra time on his hands besides making up for countless hours of lost sleep? And, if you're a LOST fan, how are you feeling after last night's episode, and the upcoming end of an era?
