Jeff and I are slogging our way through the last season of formerly addictive Lost, and I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but I DON'T GIVE A SHIT. OR A RAT'S ASS. OR A FLYING FUCK. Or a shitty rat's ass or a rat fucking while flying. Etc. What was once gleefully ridiculous is now tediously, lugubriously, mirthlessly ridiculous. Inevitably, I fall asleep 45 minutes in, and I go, Jeff, what happened, and Jeff goes, I don't know, it doesn't matter. And it doesn't. The only characters I can bear the sight of anymore are Hurley and Miles, the only ones who aren't acting so hard they make my teeth hurt. Claire's hair is a really bad actor, as it turns out. No range, at all.
It's a self-serious Gilligan's Island now, with new goofy characters emerging from the jungle every episode -- Fu Manchu guy and Evil Locke and always some tough-ass girl with a tank top, sweaty hair, and a gun -- and myriad opportunities to escape, bungled. But without the sophisticated wit, elegant plotting, and adorable costumes of the original tale of our castaways.
Maybe this is my new thing, ranting about shows that are no longer on the air and that everybody stopped caring about 18 months ago.
Um, ok, bye.
A blog, yeesh. Remember to ask me in person about second-tier starfucking once removed. It's Lost-related, and juicy, but I shouldn't post it with my name attached and I can't figure out how to unattach my name.
ReplyDeleteWait until the season finale. Bafflingly lame.