Friday, May 25Lost Friday - "Through The Looking Glass."
Season 3 - Episode 22/23: "Through The Looking Glass."
The final Lost Friday of 2007 is upon us. We have much to dis--
You know what? Let's change things up a little, 'eh? Go hog-freaking-wild, you know? I mean, it's the last recap of the year, why not try something different, right? Hold onto your caps and glasses, kids, because I'm about to go off the rails.
The final Lost Friday of 2007 is upon us. Hold onto your caps and glasses.
Wow...that felt good. It's nice to get crazy every now and again, but let's put our pants back on and get down to serious business.
I tried to warn you turds; I really did. I tried to explain to everyone that this season would boast an ending more pants-wettingly crazy than anything we've seen on Lost so far. I told people that it would be mind-blowing, and I begged folks to watch the episode with an open mind and accept the fate that the writers and producers have given to the storyline and plot development. They haven't steered us wrong yet, why would they do it now? I desperately pleaded this case with readers, preparing them for what was about to unfold. The game was about to seriously change, and I wanted folks to merely think it over before they stormed out of their collective living rooms in a huff, exclaimed that Lost had jumped the shark for the fourteenth damn time and fell asleep in the crawl space with their cat.
(Upon seeing who won the 2004 Election, Jack decides to end it as quickly as possible.)
So, what happened? Well, just like the other two Lost season finales, there is confusion, frustration and the assured confidence that the writers have utterly destroyed the great wonder that they have created. Without question, the folks at ABC have no idea what they're doing anymore.
To that, I say "Have you people lost your Goddamn minds? Have you?"
This finale was tremendous. It had more action than Season 2, more mysteries and questions than Season 1, and offered an entirely new dimension with which the story will be told in Season 4. Even though I was fully spoiled going into the episode, it still exceeded my expectations and left me shaking when it was all over. Face it, Lost brought the pain on Wednesday night, and you kids simply have no clue how to handle the idea of a television show handing you your own ass.
Well buck up, because it's time for the Thick & Meaty.
AT THAT ONE PLACE WHERE THOSE OTHERS LIVE ON THE ISLAND:
Ben's world is starting to crumble around him. His lies are catching up with him; his followers are starting to catch onto his false plans and realize that he's not being entirely honest with them. A mutiny is on the horizon, yet Ben scrapes and claws to maintain control, looking pathetic and weak in the process. Now he knows how George W. Bush must feel most nights.
Dear sweet Lord above me in Heaven, hear me clearly when I say that I hate that man.
Richard is pissed, Alex is pissed and Mikhail is double pissed with a single eye. Ben sends out Patchie to take care of Charlie in the Looking Glass, and heads off with Alex to cut Jack and the castaways off at the radio tower. Once there, he's going to give Alex up to the castaways, as he's sick of her blasting Fall Out Boy at full volume all hours of the night while dry-humping Karl.
Was that too much? I can't even tell anymore.
AT THAT ONE BEACH WHERE THOSE PLANE CRASH PEOPLE IS:
Ten of the Others show up and start their fetus-snatching heist, but seven are instantly (and awesomely) killed when Sayid and Bernard detonate the dynamite (with some additional gunplay by Jin). Eventually, the three castaways are taken prisoner and Bernarc sings like a Stool Pigeon getting raped by 20 Latino guys with teardrop tattoos on their cheeks.
Bernarc. Let it sink in, kids.
While the three Others are holding the three Castaways, Sawyer and Juliet sneak up just in time to see Hurley obliterate one of the Others with the Dharma van. After that distraction, Sayid goes all 'crazed Iraqi torturer' on a dude and breaks his neck with his legs. Tom surrenders, but Sawyer caps him anyway, as he long promised swift justice for his kidnapping of Waaaaaalt.
That's cold. Clearly, Sawyer has gotten over his fear of murdering people. Again.
("I only want onions on half, and God help you if there's any sausage on it.")
IN THAT ONE DHARMA GRAVE WITH ALL THE CORPSES WHERE LOCKE IS:
Locke, while attempting to hold his small intestine in, spots a gun on one of the Dharma corpses. Just as he's about to commit suicide, Waaaaaallllt shows up and tells him that he might want to consider getting out of the hole and leaving, instead. It makes sense, so Locke complies.
Waaaaaallllt then slam dunks a basketball, because he's 19 years old and 8 feet tall.
("You all, gingivitis!")
IN THAT ONE UNDERWATER HATCH WITH THE LADIES, THE EYE PATCH GUY, THE BEARD GUY AND THAT HEROIN BASS-PLAYER GUY:
Charlie is acting like a top-notch dick in the Looking Glass, knowing full well that he has a temporary lease on life and probably won't make it out a free man. As you would assume, he gets the crap beaten out of him for his troubles. On the surface of the water, Desmond wakes up, puts his jaw back together and dodges a few bullets from Mikhail on the shore. He dives into the hatch and surfaces just in time to almost get shot again. You'd think he would have seen that coming, Mister Flashy McFutureflash.
The two ladies are confused, as they are starting to think that Ben's sort of a liar that wants everyone to stay on the island to fulfill his Utopian society of walkie-talkies and not bathing. Mikhail shows up and starts shooting, killing Greta and wounding that other girl...Bonnie something or other. Then, just for the hell of it, Desmond nails Mikhail with the spear gun. Mikhail, however, is immortal, so he just pulls it out and makes himself a sandwich in the Mess Hall.
("Have you seen my BAAAAY-BEEEEE?!?!")
Eventually, Charlie figures out the code to un-jam the communication system, and instantly receives a transmission from Penny. She tells him that Naomi and her team do not work for her, just as Mikhail appears outside of the porthole and detonates a grenade. Knowing his fate, Charlie saves Desmond by sealing the door and sinking into the abyss. However, he informs Desmond that Naomi is up to no good before he goes out in what has to be the best death in Lost history. Maybe even a little too good for a wanker like Charlie.
Desmond leaves, with his knowledge that Penny is still looking for him and that Naomi is not on the Good Team, which leads us to our Question Of The Week:
If you were seconds from death, what message would you Sharpie onto your palm?
A) Don't sell my figurines.
B) CLAPTON RULEZ!
D) Wow, it really IS waterproof!
E) Help me, idiot.
Of course, the answer is "Tell my family that I love them, make sure my cats are fed and tell my student loan officers to stick their 10% interest straight up their asses, cuz I ain't payin anymore'." Let's move on.
("Crap, down to my last Smartie.")
AT THAT ONE RADIO TOWER WHERE THAT MESSAGE HAD BEEN PLAYING FOR 16 YEARS BY THAT FRENCH WOMAN THAT'S THERE ON THE ISLAND WITH THE CASTAWAYS AND HER DAUGHTER THAT WAS TAKEN FROM HER:
As Jack is leading the castaways to the radio tower, they only hear 2 of the 3 explosions and start to get all whiny about husbands being dead or some pointless crap. Juliet and Sawyer head back to see what's up, and Hurley looks for his van, as he left a steak inside of it.
And with that, I've officially made my last 'Hurley is fat' joke of the year. It was a struggle, but I pulled it off, and I couldn't have done it without you guys. Thanks.
Ben cuts the castaways off and asks to speak with Jack for a few minutes. He claims that Naomi is not who she claims to be, and that by calling her boat for help, the island will be eradicated. Jack says 'screw that static' and dismisses him. Ben pretends to have Tom kill the three prisoners, so Jack proceeds to give him a good ole'-fashioned ass whipping. It was great; I watched it twice.
(This is what happens when you accidentally spoil someone on The Coconut Internet.)
Rousseau and Alex meet up and share a bonding moment in tying Ben to a tree and taking turns whaling on him.
At the tower, Hurley contacts Jack and lets him know about what all went down on the beach. People are understandably pleased. Naomi is about to get a signal on her phone when Locke shows up and heaves a knife into her back, killing her pretty much instantly. Locke warns Jack not to make the rescue call, but Jack does so anyway and reaches a man supposedly on Naomi's rescue boat. Everyone cheers when they find out that help is on the way, but we all know it's just going to be another wave of jerks that want to kill these nice people with checkered pasts.
("Could you kindly restart my heart?")
IN JACK'S FLASHBACKS THAT ARE REALLY FLASH-FORWARDS BUT YOU DON'T FIND THAT OUT UNTIL THE VERY END OF THE SHOW BECAUSE THEY WANTED TO SURPRISE YOU WITH IT:
Jack is all messed up on the pills and booze. He's pretty much looking just like his dad, only he's sporting one of the more amazing beards I've seen on TV in awhile. Far too cool to be sported by Matthew Fox, at least. Not only that, but he's rocking Aviator Shades! And a denim jacket! While listening to Nirvana!
Damn, maybe Jack and I could be friends, provided he stay a depressed addict. He's far more hip this way.
Upon reading the obituary of an unknown person, Jack contemplates suicide, only to witness a car crash and work his hero magic on them. Later on at the hospital, he has a depressing run-in with his ex-wife, who is very pregnant and doesn't want anything to do with him. Boy, I've been there, dude. If I had a nickel for every pregnant ex-wife I've ran into at the hospital, I'd be eating nickel soup with a spoon made of nickels.
(1,500 different diseases just passed from Juliet to Jack. Hope it was worth it!)
As Jack continues to spiral out of control at work and elsewhere, he continues to try to get a hold of someone. Presumably, a hotline for guys that cry way too much for no reason. He shows up to the funeral of the mysterious person, and finds out that he was the only one that arrived. He pays his respects and heads back out, stealing all the flower arrangements in the process.
An especially depressing scene takes place in a pharmacy, when Jack is unable to get his prescription filled. He is recognized as a hero as he freaks out and falls over a rack of sunglasses. Seriously, this flash-forward is on par with John Locke and the Chicago Cubs for being about the saddest thing I can possibly handle.
(Rated TV-14 for Graphic Socket Action.)
During the last 5 minutes, things start to come into focus as we see Jack in his apartment, surrounded by various maps and atlases (atli?). He finally gets a hold of the mysterious woman on the phone, who turns out to be Kate. Jack confesses to her that he's been flying across the Pacific a whole lot in the hopes of crashing back on the island again. He tells her that he's "sick of lying" and needs to go back to the island to presumably make things right. Kate leaves and Jack continues his breakdown in the airport parking lot, shouting "We have to go back!."
Smash cut; season over. I'm shattered and need a drink.
If Matthew Fox ever had an inkling of a chance to win a best actor Emmy, this episode would do it for him. It was, without question, his best television acting to date, even amongst an amazing cast of ringers that should be bringing Emmys home in wheelbarrows. Good on you, dude, that was awesome.
Hey...speaking of awesome...
Today's topic is the 5 Awesome Things... Season Finale Award Show!
1) Best Ass Whipping Award - Sawyer kills Anthony Cooper ("The Brig").
Not even a roundhouse kick could keep this from winning the award. Sayid killed a dude with his feet, Kate and Juliet rolled around in the mud and Jack gave Ben a 30-second bloodletting, but nothing had as much depth or emotion than when Sawyer took out the douchebag that led to the death of his parents.
2) Best Nudity Award - Desmond emerges ("Further Instructions").
Kate and Sawyer may have had a hot and sweaty sex scene, and even Sun rolled in the hay with that Asian cue-ball, but Desmond emerging from the imploded hatch sans-pants was unexpected, unnecessary and absolutely hilarious. Add that to his wearing of Hurley's oversized t-shirt for the rest of the episode, and you have television gold.
(Man, they must have spackled the Vaseline onto the lens with a trowel.)
3) Lifetime Bad-Ass Award - Mr. Eko (Various Episodes).
Sure, he may have died 5 episodes into the season after the Smoke Monster bashed him to pieces against a tree, but did you expect anything less from Mr. Eko? Do you remember when Sawyer and Michael washed up on the shoreline of the Tail Section folk, and Eko burst out of the jungles with that big-ass stick of his? Was it or was it not the scariest thing ever on the show? Godspeed, Mr. Eko. We still miss the way you'd kill people with rocks and stuff.
4) Insanely Beautiful Award - Achara ("Stranger In A Strange Land").
Don't even try to argue with me on this one. Achara was so insanely beautiful that it hurt.
5) Straight Blowin' S#%t Up Award - John Locke (Various Episodes).
He's been directly responsible for the destruction of two hatches (and he blew up the Swan hatch twice), one radio transmitter, Jacob's shack and a freaking submarine. I'm so used to seeing things explode behind him that I think he might actually work for WWE.
Okay, enough breaking things down....let's Break It Down!
4- It's crazy to think that this episode was 2 hours long, and Locke was on camera for probably 3 minutes, tops. That's like the Red Sox benching David Ortiz in Game 7! That's like the Colts having Peyton Manning clean the locker rooms during the Super Bowl! That's like taking the best player on your professional sports team, and making them do something else when they could be positively attributing to what's taking place on his or her respective fields!
Heh-heh...just cracked myself up, there.
8- In the flash-forwards, Jack was using a Motorola KRZR, which wasn't released until the end of 2006. Not only is this a clue as to when the flash-forward took place, but it solidifies the fact that Jack is a jerk. Also, the name of the funeral home was "Hoffs/Drawlar", which is an anagram for "flash-forward."
I'm glad it meant something, because those were two stupid-sounding names, right there.
15- No, I don't know who was in the damn casket. At first, I thought it was Sawyer, but now I believe that Sawyer is on the run with Kate in the present-day. Beats me; I don't know, stop asking. People have tried to decipher what little scraps of the obituary showed up on camera, but we really have no idea what it said. Keep fighting the good fight, Internet Nerds!
16- With this new direction in storytelling, there comes another wave of questions that just can't be answered right now. Instead of filling in the gaps that led the castaways onto Oceanic 815, we're now going to be seeing what has happened to get them off of the island and into the present-day. Some folks insist that the ending has been ruined because we know that Jack and Kate are rescued from the island; I say bull rip. Leaving the island has nothing to do with the end of the show.
Bull rip, I say!
(Meet Sayid: The Scariest Man In The World.)
23- Was it just me, or were there 45 minutes of commercials this week? I couldn't believe it; every 10 minutes, another 4 minutes of commercials. There's simply not supposed to be that many commercials during a standard two-hour broadcast, check the manual.
42- For the record, I didn't get emotional over Charlie's death, I didn't think for a second that Jin, Bernard and Sayid had been killed, and I didn't bat an eyelash when Jack told Kate that he loved her.
But when Jack knocked over that sunglasses display...man, I wanted to bawl for days. I still want to, actually.
Sit back, wipe the crust out of your eyes and prepare for The Preview!
X- The Season 4 Premiere isn't until February. Let's hold off on discussion until at least the holiday season, mmkay?
Well folks, there you have it. The last Lost Friday of the year. I want to thank everyone who has stopped by every week, sent e-mails and commented here at the CDP. For those of you who just stop by on Fridays, please know that Lost Friday is just a small fraction of the crap I throw against the wall here. Stick around during the Summer and check the archives for anything and everything you might have missed. Again, thank you. Now please buy a t-shirt.
("Wow, we can get porn on this thing!")
Sound off in the comments section, send all erotic photography to firstname.lastname@example.org and check out The Coconut Internet when you're all finished. Below are links to every Lost Friday for Season 3; enjoy them at your leisure.
Season 3 Preview
Season 3 - Episode 1 Review
Season 3 - Episode 2 Review
Season 3 - Episode 3 Review
Season 3 - Episode 4 Review
Season 3 - Episode 5 Review
Season 3 - Episode 6 Review
Season 3 - Episode 7 Review
Season 3 - Episode 8 Review
Season 3 - Episode 9 Review
Season 3 - Episode 10 Review
Season 3 - Episode 11 Review
Season 3 - Episode 12 Review
Season 3 - Episode 13 Review
Season 3 - Episode 14 Review
Season 3 - Episode 15 Review
Season 3 - Episode 16 Review
Season 3 - Episode 17 Review
Season 3 - Episode 18 Review
Season 3 - Episode 19 Review
Season 3 - Episode 20 Review
Season 3 - Episode 21 Review
Season 3 Finale - Lost Monday
Season 3 Finale - Lost Tuesday
Season 3 Finale - Lost Wednesday
Thursday, May 24CDP Wayback Machine - Sunburn Edition.
'Give Me Some Skin.' - Originally Published June 27, 2006.
To me, the start of Summer only means one thing: 90 straight days of mind-blowing sunburns.
As an embarrassingly pale man, getting a sunburn is about as easy as beating Peter Doherty in a 'don't smoke crack' contest. I needn't be outside for more than a picosecond to instantly transform my baby-smooth exterior into a mass of pink, stingy nerve endings. From June 3 right up until September 10, I'm rendered freakish and unpleasant in the eyes of friends and neighbors. Invitations to parties cease and desist. Nobody wants to see Ole' Creepy McBurnyface singing karaoke; it tends to bring down a room.
The term 'tan' is not in my vocabulary. This term means nothing to me; sort of like 'zork' and 'restraining order.' Unless I liberally lubricate my pores with SPF-Nuclear Holocaust lotion, I'm going to be screwed in the second-worst way possible.
A few years ago, me and the Missus went to an outdoor concert. I asked her to put lotion on my face, making sure she knew just how susceptible I was to UV rays. She did not heed this warning seriously, and carelessly streaked a few drops of Coppertone across my melon. When the show was over, it looked as if I was attempting to highlight certain parts of my forehead that were more important than the others. There were blisters, scars and shame for the next 3 weeks.
And now, an awful story from my childhood.
In the late 80's to early 90's, I helped out on my family's dairy farm during the summer. One weekend in particular left me with the Queen Mother of all sunburns on my legs. I had been wearing shorts, and the result left me looking like I was wearing a permanent pair of red socks. From the knees to the ankles, I was charred beyond recognition.
I took care of my crimson legs for days on end, gently soaking and aloe-izing them before I went to bed each night. Even at such a young age, I was an expert at the art of third-degree burn treatment. I had experienced many a sunburn by that point in my life, but I knew that this one was different- even special, somehow. I didn't realize why I felt that way until the big day finally came.
I woke up on a humid Sunday morning and swung my wok-fried stumps over the edge of the bed. That's when I noticed the beginnings of a peel on each of my calves. Wide-eyed, with a skilled and steady hand, I proceeded to peel off my skin like an honest-to-goodness sock, producing two snake-like sheddings, each about a foot long. It took me about a half-hour to expertly navigate, and they were absolutely beautiful. I held these giant hunks of flesh up for inspection, and everything suddenly became well worth the wait.
I couldn't let these go to waste. I had to do something with them. But what?
My attention focused to the small, black-and-white television I had in my room. The reception from this TV was horrible, and no matter which way I manipulated the rabbit ears, I got nothing but static and white noise. However, I did notice that the picture came in much better as long as I kept my hands on the antennas.
Scientifically speaking, I now know that the reason for this is because we humans give off a certain amount of electricity, which acts as kind of a booster for the TV antenna. As a child, all I knew was that I couldn't hold onto the antenna and watch the tube at the same time. Perhaps I could fake the TV out somehow, by making it think I was still holding onto the rabbit ears.
I think you know where I'm going with this.
Imagine the look on my Mom's face when she walked into my room, only to see me watching a television with two giant balls of human skin affixed to the antennas.
Wednesday, May 23Lost Wednesday - Preshow Edition.
Depending on when you're reading this, the Lost finale is anywhere from 20 hours away to over and done with millions of years ago.
Is the latter is true of you, I say hello, future society! I'm sorry for all the bad stuff we did to the planet during the first 2000 years. Is Abe Vigoda still alive? He IS?!
I've got two things for you today; a Season Finale Drinking Game, and an exclusive, behind-the-scenes look at what all goes into a CDP Lost Friday. They're both very exciting and ego-driven, which is what always seems to make me a happy guy. And away we go.
If Walt shows up...TAKE A DRINK!
Well, that'll get you hammered. Maybe even a little dead if you play your cards just right. Happy swilling!
The Lost Friday writing process begins shortly after Lost ends on Wednesday night. I used to be a nerd and actually take notes during the episode, but it started to feel like a job, and it also got in the way of my weekly beer-swilling ritual. For those who haven't yet heard the story, I have approximately 20 bottles of New Glarus Barley Wine (my favorite beer) left in my basement, thought by many to be the last bottles in existence after a distribution issue forced the shutdown of production. Because of this, I only drink a bottle of said Barley Wine when there is a new episode of Lost on (I don't share). When I run out, I'll probably stop watching the show.
Anyway, when the episode's over, I stumble into the office and take very brief notes before I go to bed. I essentially jot down things I want to remember, little tidbits I've noticed or humorous things that came to me during the course of the night. I would normally forget these things come morning, so I take notes as to not set myself up with a completely blank slate on Thursday.
On Thursday, I do about 90% of the writing during the day (read:at work). I set up a basic outline and fill in the gaps throughout the morning and afternoon. At this point in the evolution of Lost Friday, my format is pretty much exactly the way I want it (Opening Rant-Thick & Meaty-Question Of The Week-5 Awesome Things-Break It Down-Preview-Outro), so I rarely stray unless I feel like writing a bunch of haikus. I never write Lost Friday in sequential order; for example, if I get an idea for 5 Awesome Things, I'll do it right away. Most of the time, however, I just come up with one joke at a time and plug it in where necessary.
For The Thick & Meaty, I like to consult mainstay pages like Lostpedia and The Fuselage for basic information about the plotline and movement of the episode. That way, I have a firm idea of exactly how the show played out, so I can blur the lines and take my brilliant and Patent-Pending satire wherever I want it to go, all while staying within the realistic confines of what the episode actually brought. If you didn't see Wednesday's episode, chances are you're not going to get 80% of the jokes. Nor should you.
I do my best to get the majority of the writing done before I come home from the Acid Mines. When I get back home at around 4pm, I look over everything I've written and do another edit. Adding jokes, changing around the wording of clinkers, getting rid of things that ruin the flow of the post. At this point, I also start doing my formatting and getting everything in its right place. Sure, you might not notice that the font and labels for everything are uniform every week, but you know that I do.
At this point, I have all of my writing done and looking pretty much the way it will look when it gets published. There are still no images, captions, links or logos, however. This is where the Missus comes in and gives it a good read-through. She's very skilled with grammar and is nice enough to let me know when something sounds stupid, regardless of how funny I think it is. She's a good second pair of eyes, and does what she can to make sure I don't look as stupid as I'm capable of looking, which is a whole hell of a lot.
I just peed in my pantaloons.
Once I get the thumbs-up from the Missus (usually at around 6pm on Thursday), I set Lost Friday down and leave it alone. If there's one thing I've learned over my years of writing music, screenplays and speeches, it's to just let something go for awhile and come back to it later on with fresh eyes. Me and the Missus enjoy our Thursday night; usually smoking cigars hand rolled by Jesus and sipping on wine squeezed from unicorns. Typical fare.
The next time I see Lost Friday, it's about 10pm on Thursday night. I go over everything one last time, making last-second changes to any text I think is worthless. I paste in my standard Lost Friday logos (Break It Down/Thick & Meaty/Etc.) and add all of the links to my previous writings and various sites.
The photos and captions are the very last thing I add to Lost Friday. At about 10:30pm, I scour hundreds of screenshots of the episode, saving any and every image I could conceivably bust on. I normally look at about 500 screenshots a week, and end up using 10-15 of them for each Lost Friday. I save, resize, upload, paste and probably go to the bathroom a time or two.
At this point, it's about quarter to 12, and I'm trying hard to stay awake and get everything ready for my self-imposed midnight deadline. I place the photos wherever they would flow best in the post, and start throwing captions around. Because I only work on captions late at night and under deadline duress, they sometimes have a tendency to be surreal or make absolutely no sense at all. To this day, there are about 10 captions out there that still bewilder me to no end. I couldn't explain them to you if I tried.
Once the captions are slapped together, Lost Friday starts to resemble the pristine weekly CDP post you've come to know and set your watch to over the past two years. At 12:01am on Wednesday morning, I hit the publish button, proclaim myself a genius and go to freaking sleep, knowing that I've once again satisfied the raving mobs with nothing more than my table scraps.
In actuality, I shake my head in utter defeat, knowing that I've gone another week without getting it exactly right. I think it's my desire for that perfect post that keeps me coming back for more. Either that, or the e-mails from people telling me that they'll stop visiting the CDP if I quit talking about Lost.
A typical Lost Friday is anywhere from 2,000 to 4,000 words a week. That's up to 16 pages of material EVERY FRIDAY! Considering that my timeframe to write these is about 5 hours max, you start to see how awesome I am for doing this every week. Professional writers make a fantastic living for doing a lot less, and Lost Friday just accounts for 1/3 of what I normally put into the CDP every week. I'm not boasting, I'm just coming to a very sad realization. Damn.
So, whether you wanted to know or not, that's the creative process behind Lost Friday. I appreciate you taking the time to check it out. I'll get back to performing dog tricks now; sound off in the comments section and brace yourself for the most surprising finale in Lost history. Cheers.
Tuesday, May 22Lost Tuesday - Caption Edition 2.
Another day closer to the Lost Season 3 Finale, another 30 of the best Lost Friday captions of the year. Read, enjoy and sound off in the comments section.
(Juliet's annual face-lift didn't pan out quite so well this year.)
(Jack becomes suddenly aware that on the mainland he was recognized as a locksmith, not a spinal surgeon as previously assumed.)
("...And that's how I got into commemorative spoon collecting. You?")
("Yes, Party Of Five ran for six seasons! Why is that so damn hard to understand?")
(When you want to fly round-trip at no more than 30 feet off the ground, fly Oceanic.)
(Brought to you by the Emo Goldfish Council.)
(Hurley is completely drunk....on HAM!)
(This looks just like my Dad's senior yearbook photo.)
(Claire, putting on one of her better performances in awhile.)
("Crap...the producers just realized that I'm irrelevant.")
("See? Right here, it says 'No Dogs Allowed.'")
("Nice rack, Kate.")
(Jack's learning how to play "It's Raining Men.")
("Damn...do they have an Asteroids machine in that rec room?")
("You may have my kidney, but at least I'm not paralyzed!")
(Emeril at home.)
("Dude, this island is just one big salad, and I'm diggin' in!")
("Whoops, I think I just paralyzed myself again.")
(Please, for your own good, don't eat the chili.)
(Just for the hell of it, Desmond takes a shot at Charlie.
("Heh-heh...I guess the whole kidney thing was pretty funny.")
(Suddenly and without warning, Locke's appendix bursts.)
("I haven't shaved in 800 years.")
("Someday bunny, we'll run away to Vegas and finally get married. Someday...")
("That's it, wicker chair. I've had just about enough of your crap.")
(Sayid gives Karl CPR directly to his spinal cord.)
("Liam, be honest. You got bit by that zombie, didn't you?")
TOMORROW - LOST WEDNESDAY:
WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW BEFORE THE FINALE.