I've Got the Guns, Bitches: My Almost-Liberation From LOST


Who do these LOST bitches think they are? Really. First they hook me with two breath-stopping, action-packed first and second seasons, and THEN they have the nerve to pull the rug out from me with this, should I say, boring third season that has all the suspense of an episode of The Young and the Restless. NOW, to and insult to injury, they're now pulling this going-on-haitus-for-sixteen weeks-bullshit. And it has me hopping mad--or at least switching off my TV in disgust. Do the writers of LOST really think our addiction is so unstoppable that they can pull this klind of bullshit and we'll still show up, drooling in front of the TV like hungry puppies when they finally decide to resume the season in Feburary? (that was a rhetorical question, in case you missed the blatant sarcasm)

LOST is on the cusp of becoming an evil, all-encroaching super-power--much like Starbucks. You've gotten too big for your britches, LOST, and I think you need to be taken down a peg or two. And, I for one am not falling for your island-mind-games. Do you hear me, LOST? I refuse to be captive to your limp-wristed intimdation tactics. After all, unlike Sawyer and Kate, the only cage I'm trapped on is one of my own making. No longer will I tell everyone I meet that LOST is the best show ever. No longer will I buy your overpriced box sets for family and friends during the holiday season. No more will I program my Tivo weeks in advance, checking it one, or two tiimes each wednesday night, JUST TO BE SURE its working properly. Nope, not me. Going on haitus? Just test me, bitches, just fucking TRY me. Because I am one fickle, stubborn bitch. You go on vacation, have a lovely time languishing on those Hawaiian beaches, and, in the meantime, I'll become addicted to America's Next Top Model or The Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. After all, LOST isn't the only show on television that can boast quality programming. . . Maybe I'll even forget about you entirely. THEN where will you be, huh? Who's laughing NOW?

Clearly LOST has no idea who they're dealing with. And Sawyer and Jack are not THAT cute. I will not tune in each week just for the glorious pleasure of seeing Sawyer half-naked for 60, bliss-filed minutes. Although I might be seriously tempted. . . . Even if I did turn it on, for say, five minutes, naturally I would never tell anyone about it . . . And if I don't tell anyone, then it doesn't count. So there.

Damn you, LOST. Damn you all to hell.