I have come to the conclusion that J.J. Abrams is farting in my face. It is very likely that he is farting in yours as well, but I will only speak for myself. As with most episodes of Lost, tonight’s show got us no closer to any sort of resolution. I’ve actually resigned myself to the idea that there will be no resolution, and that’s actually ok with me.
What’s really annoying to me is the repetitiveness of it all. I don’t really care whether or not Ben Linus is good or evil (though I think I cared for most of season 2) and I certainly don’t care about Richard Alpert’s story (I guess he is strikingly handsome and his whole never growing old thing is kind of quirky, but really, does it matter?), and least of all, I don’t care to ever watch another sentimental beach reunion with the same sappy music, overdrawn smiles, and of course, slo mo — honestly, I beseech the most loyal Lost buffs to identify how many times they’ve done that on this show. I haven’t had that many reunions in my life, let alone in a 5 year period, or however long this fart fest has been going on.
I’m grateful that Paul Basile and his lovely wife Katie Baldwin introduced me to the wonderful world of plugging into Lost while on exercising on the treadmill, because if I had to sit myself down to watch this show for the hell of it, it just wouldn’t happen. But that’s just because I don’t have ABC at my house. My T.V. only registers NBC and Fox. Truth is, I can’t get enough of it and I look forward to more facial farts next week from the butt and mind of J.J. Abrams.