I’m Pretty Sure I Hate Lost

There are only three episodes left in the weirdest show I’ve ever watched on television and I have no idea what’s going on anymore. Not in the plot, not with the characters, not with myself.

All I know is sometime back when my favorite character somehow stopped being my favorite character and instead became the embodiment of a bad special effect I started grumbling a lot about how stupid Lost had become. Actually, maybe it was back when Charlie was killed for absolutely no reason except to have Charlie die, or maybe it was when everyone on the show suddenly had expertise in all manner of guns and rifles regardless of their background or maybe it was when the writers started confusing slap-dash coincidences with compelling storylines. I don’t know exactly but it was in there somewhere that I started grumbling. Now there are exploding subs and surface to surface missile and I have changed gears from grumbling into full on bitching.

And yet I’m still watching! What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t care about any of the characters, I have zero hope that they’ll salvage something interesting out of this soup they’ve created and at some point during the six hundredth double-cross to occur this season even Desmond started annoying me…which is saying quite a lot considering how much of a Desmond fan I was.

All these theories about what the island is and why they’re all trapped there? Here’s my theory.

Jack and Kate and company aren’t the ones trapped on the island. I am.

I’m the one trapped on this freaking island and now I want to get off only I can’t because I might miss something even though I don’t care anymore. So I have to sit and watch to see if the smoke monster can win a game of Stratego against god or some shit and then maybe I can be free.

Oh, how I miss my early, heady days of watching this show when I thought it was about a plane crash…

Can’t wait until nine tonight.