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20 DAYS AND COUNTING.

Thursday Nights. Big corporate network station. Writers Strike. 9pm. Let’s see what happens! We’ve been catching up on Lost – The Complete Third Season the last couple weeks. Here’s a cool way to catch up:

I’m so excited for Season 4 I can hardly stand it. This is the only show I watch on television. The only one that I will give effort to be home in time for; the only one that I think about on my own time; the only one I research mysteries on the internet about.

It has been over eight months since L O S T was on the air, and last season’s finale blew my mind way open. Blood and brains littered our former neighbor’s apartment (we always watched L O S T with hedonist extraordinaire, Johnny Borba.)

Similarly, our new neighbors have a good-sized television set and we’ve got bunny ears! And while there’s no replacement for Borba, the shift from Wednesdays to Thursdays makes the separation for us.

So on January 31 we finally, after an eight-month hiatus will have opportunity to see what the hell is going on (sort of) and for a lovely eight episodes, since as of yet, the writers haven’t been able to come to an agreement (read: got to get paid, yo!).

Let me tell you why I love L O S T. It’s pure fiction. It’s camp. It’s a graphic novel. It’s overly-commercial, over-acted and has ridiculously sappy love scenes between strangers. It’s sexy and totally unpredictable. Polar bears. Crazy Russian with an eyepatch (he never dies!) Crazy Mountain French woman who never smiles.

The dialogue is classic. For instance, a season three episode finds Locke asking Sawyer to kill his Father who mysteriously arrives on the island. Sawyer is locked in the room with Locke’s dad and Locke is outside the room, armed, waiting for Sawyer to realize that Locke’s dad was the con artist that cheated his mother out of all her life savings, causing her husband to kill her and then himself, thus orphaning Sawyer. In comes Rousseau. Locke says, “What brings you to Black Rock?” Rousseau: “Dynamite.” Locke: “Ah.” All deadpan. From behind the door you can hear Sawyer screaming to be let out. Rousseau looks at the door. Locke says nothing.

I have absolutely NO IDEA what is going to happen next, and that’s why I love it.