That giant splat you just heard is the last remants of my interest in Lost, as last night it did not just jump the shark, but it did a triple-Lindy and a backwards summersault during the jump, and then the shark jumped through my TV, crawled over my coffee table, and bit me in the ass.
Ok. I'm back from NY, and I have a cold, which makes me irritible. All those nights drinking when various comic book luminaries until 3 a.m. in 19 degree weather can have an ill-effect on even the heartiest constitution, and Poor Ol' Layman (AKA "The Kid") fell prey to Winter Misery. Even so, I could be healthy as the proverbial horse, and Lost still has been sucking like crazy. You figure any time a show devote an entire episode to chasing a noisy frog, that show has nothing left to say.
It hasn't helped that the show is a repeat every 2 weeks out of three. But last night, when stupid Chick-With-A-Baby was chasing all around trying to find why her stupid baby has a rash, I just could not care. I was even watching the show at double speed and reading the captions, to make it go by faster, and at the 3/4th point I just said "fuck it" and went to bed. Out of duty (to you, fair readers!) I picked it up in the morning, and found the show got marginally more interesting when The Stepfather and the Black Guy From Oz talked to the prisoner guy in the last 5 minutes.
Bah. Anyway, I expect this show is treading water for some "exciting" end of Season II conclusion, and it will seem like it has a bit of life to it before it grinds to a halt a third into Season III. When that happens, don't say Ol' Layman didn't warn you. I have not been wrong yet.