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Joe’s Weekly, Lengthy, Humorous, LOST Review, Blog, Article

What the Cluck?

Everybody loves Hugo, especially Pierre Chang. And why wouldn’t he? The good doctor seemed not to have aged a day since the 70’s, and I’ll assume he owes all that to a steady diet of the cluckity goodness of Hurley’s national fast food chain.

As we were treated to the loving slide show of fast food philanthropist Hugo Reyes, I was struck by two things; Hurley brings his mother with him to awards shows just like Kevin Spacey and who was that guy in the Mr. Clucks costume? Maybe I’m just looking for clues where there are none, but that’s exactly how you find the good ones. The man under the beak seemed a little too old to be schlepping around in a yellow feathery mascot costume, and although I thought he looked familiar, I was unable to place his somehow recognizable visage. Anyone?

DBs

As we all know by now chief scribes and mystery danglers, Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindelof are giant lying douche bags (and I say that with all the love I can bestow upon to two people who have give me some of the greatest moments of Sci-Fi/Adventure/Drama in any genre ever, while also glibly teasing, fibbing and rubbing our noses in their precious little LOST secrets.) There was no way I was going to be able to accept the ending of this series without some closure on the Libby story. She was way too important in Hurely’s life to just ignore her — as the rumors in the previous two seasons indciated.

You simply don’t tag on a shot of Hurley’s raison d’être falling apart in the very same asylum and not pay that off. I knew I could count on those two douche bags. Thanks douche bags.

Lovably Looney Libby

Anyway, I, along with everybody else, may love Hugo, but that doesn’t stop me from loving me some Libby too. Of course I’ve always been attracted to the mentally unstable. So now I’ve got crazy chicks, and a love for greasy chicken in common with Hugo. Wish we also shared the same bank account, but multi-millions can’t be far off in my future if I keep writing for Mania. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. Aha ha ha ha ha. Ooooo ha ha ha ha ha. Ho ho, hee hee, haa ha, giggle giggle, snort, guffaw, snot out my nose, giggle giggle, snort snort, piss a little, giggle hee hee hee.

Whew. Sorry, but that sadly was funnier than I wish it were.

So where was I… oh yeah, Libby. It was touching to watch poor Hurley placing a new flower on her grave, while wishing she would connect with him like so many other departed, and it was a cruel island joke to have her murderer show up in her stead. Michael seemed a little skittish during his first afterlife meeting with his former friend. He did however issue a tense warning to our beloved chubster. He sternly advised Hurley that people will die if Hurley doesn’t stop everyone from going over to blow up that plane.

Speaking of DBs

How Michael knew this bit of information, but declined to give any concrete reason as to why this was a fact is part of what both frustrates and compels us to keep tuning in. Michael probably can’t tell Hurley the major whys because if he did he would violate some kind of free choice rule, and Hurley is used to aggravated spectral visions by now, still Michael’s buck-toothed silence on the subject grated me a little. That and I haven’t forgiven him for shooting Libby. Hey Michael, you’re the kind of douche bag I don’t love.

And speaking of lovable DBs, in strolls Jack. This guy has yo-yo from hero to prick so many times he’s going to have to operate on his own whiplash, but nowadays, not only is Doc Shepard the younger likable again, he’s completely caught up in his faith. How about this for Jack’s transformation? Not only does Jack have so much faith in the unexplainable island inscrutabilities, he now blatantly accepts that Hurley’s talking to ghosts even when Hurley swears he’s not. Ladies and gentlemen, Jack has the faith.

This I’m Not Buying

Sadly, Safe Landing Universe (SLU) Hurley has very little faith; at least when it comes to the ladies. By the way, I’d like to bring up that while the Hugo Reyes who works for 10 bucks an hour behind the counter at Mr. Clucks probably doesn’t pull a whole lot of Cynthia Watros caliber tail, the Hugo Reyes who owns a worldwide fast food chain is capable of all kinds of nice looking ladies.

Hey, I’m willing to let a lot of strangeness go for the sake of good TV, but I draw the line at legitimately sweet, well-mannered bazillionaires not being able to secure a blind date that was set up by their own mother. We don’t really have to look too far for a example of a wealthy beast getting his beauty. Check out the freakish-looking hobbity, (but supremely talented) Dominic Monaghan sharing a canoodle bed with Evangeline Lilly. I can only suspend disbelief for so much. Rich guys get hot girls. There’s no ancient riddle to crack there.

Seeing Libby and Hurley together was nice. Seeing Dr. Brooks again wasn’t so nice. I’m not sure what level of douche bag that guy is, but I’m throwing him in the unlovable category. Not as big as Michael, and he’s certainly no Radzinski, but I keep feeling he knows more than he’s letting on, and at this stage of the game, that kind of douche baggery has to be called out.

Ilana Go Boom!

Whoa, I did not see that one coming. Just like Arzt before her, pieces of Ilana rained from the sky after she got a little careless with the Black Rock dynamite. Former douche bag of the highest order, Benjamin Linus couldn’t help but derisively think aloud what we should have all been thinking. No sooner does Ilana, Jacob’s hand-picked lieutenant informs the candidates who they are, then she is dismissed by perhaps the biggest douche bag of all-time, the island.

Hurley meanwhile takes the opportunity to bypass the grieving period entirely, and skip right ahead to the snooping process. He finds a Russian copy of Dostoyevsky’s, “Notes from Underground,” or as it’s also known, “Notes From the Underworld.” He also seems to find a big pouch of Jacob, and my guess is they had a short conversation.

Richard Alpert is So Short… How Short is He?

And speaking of short, how ‘bout that Richard Alpert? Seriously, for all of you who wrote in to tell me Nestor Carbonell is 5 foot eleven inches tall, that must mean that Matthew Fox is 7 ft. 3. Anyway, Little Richard stills wants to blow up the plane, and something tells me he may finally get his wish about finally killing himself. It looks like Smlocke is not only whittling down a potential spear, but this show is whittling down all cast mates who weren’t booked on Flight 815. Lucky for Lapidus he was on the flight roster that day. Not so lucky for Ben and Miles.

So Hurley eats to deal with depression. Ok, but he seems like an ordinarily pretty happy-go-lucky guy in every universe. My guess Hurley also eats to deal with anger, physical ailments, ennui and the fact that carbon dioxide is made up of only one part carbon.

Chicken for Twelve, Bucket for One

In walks Desmond, one part curious, two parts satisfied. He informs the surly Hurley that they shared a plane ride together and starts asking some personal questions. Hurley spills his sizable guts to Des, and soon is feeling a little more sure that maybe this Libby lady was on the level. Number 42 is called (see the numbers) and Des is ready to take his take out, out.

Cucumber Cool Hume

We’re still not sure why both versions of Desmond Hume seem to have such clarity, but it looks to me like Desmond read the storyteller’s final script, and he knows how this all ends. Island Des is calm, cool and collected in the face of a dead inside Sayid, and the now more evil than ever Smlocke. Desmond for his part is more than forthcoming about everything, leave one small detail; when Smlocke asks him if Desmond knows who he is, Des serenely answers, “John Locke.”

Now if Smokey has the ability to scan people, there’s nothing to say he needs to be in a misty form to ascertain those answers. Desmond even hinted at it later in the episode, but Smlocke may very well be able to read minds. Even if he can’t, the guy must have a serious built-in bullshit detector, because it went delicately off the charts when Des called him Locke. Whatever Smlocke is or isn’t, he’s confused by Desmond, and is none to pleased that Des is walking around all Fonzie cool while Smlocke is doing his spooky best to register a tiny bit of trepidation.

And I don’t know who this new darker haired LOST boy is, but Desmond sees him too, and doesn’t mind asking the ever-fraying Smlocke who is that kid? Patience is surprisingly not virtue for a man who’s been sitting on an island since before the invention of backgammon.

Whittling Away

Meanwhile, back at the Black Rock, or what used to be the Black Rock, tiny Alpert is throwing a huge fit at huge Hurley for making a huge explosion. Why Hurley felt the need to lie to Richard is a mystery to me. If Hurley just reminded Richard that thanks to him, Richard was able to communicate to his long-dead wife just to episodes ago, maybe that would have soothed Richard’s jangled nerves. But as it stands, Alpert, Miles and Ben should be heading over to the tailors to get themselves fitted for 3 new red shirts.

One Wrote a Check for the Cuckoo’s Nest

Dr. Brooks, may or may not be hiding any island secrets, but it’s nothing a cool 100K can’t make better. Inside Santa Rosa, Hurley is once again (though unknowingly to him) hanging out with the Cuckoo’s Nest crowd, and once again, the family friendly game, Connect Four is featured prominently. It’s worth noting that when a player places 4 (a LOST number) pieces in a straight line vertically, horizontally, or diagonally, he wins the game. Also of equal interest, there are 42 possible positions to slot your pieces.

Other points of fascination in this scene you ask? There is of course the island on the chalkboard, on which we are shown a shark, a butterfly (see Butterfly Effect) and an ominous alligatory-looking amorphous shape that could be interpreted as the Smoke Monster.

Libby enters, but is disappointed Hurley doesn’t remember her. This seems to cause her to delve back into her depression momentarily, but she perks back up when she explains the plane crash on Hurley. He doesn’t remember it, and even chalks it up to her potential insanity, but you know what’s also insane? Taking your mom to awards dinners when you’re not a closeted homosexual. Hurley will put up with a little crazy for an attractive blonde.

Shhh, Did You Hear the Name Richard?

Back on the island, Jack has placed his faith in Hurley, even though Lapidus voiced his reservations, and Sun still can’t speak anything but Korean. This is caused by the hit in the head that has probably somehow trapped her between the two worlds, and she won’t likely be talking any good English until she gets reunited with her soul mate, Jin.

And whoooooooa nelly. Looks like we actually were given an absolute answer in this week’s installment. We now know the whispers on the island are the dead people who are stuck on the island because they can’t move on. That sounds a lot like Purgatory to me, but that’s not possible, because Carlton and Damon promised us that the island wasn’t Purgatory….. those lying douche bags.

Reyes Remembers

After 3 seasons, Hurley finally gets his dream beach picnic date with the lovely Libby. Damn, Hurley doesn’t get any action for 3 seasons and yet Sayid and Sawyer are scoring in every one of their episodes, and many of the ones they’re merely supporting. Hurley’s testicles must look like two blue basketballs by now. Luckily Libby lays a wet one on the lovable lug just before he has a fatal groin injury, and this sets off a stream of sweet remembrances for Hugo. Desmond for his part, pushes up his Oakley’s and drives off like a cool Scottish cupid.

Well, Well, Well

Desmond’s Scottish cool has gotten on Smlocke’s last nerve. Why aren’t you afraid of me? Smlocke bellows. Notice the emphasis on the word “me.” It’s as if the devil isn’t used to regular folk not crapping their pants like Sawyer on a Dharma whiskey weekend when they figure out who “he” really is. In a fit of rage, “he” tosses our tranquil champion down the ancient well. No to worry, because the spooky Gene Wilder scored promo for next week assures us ol’ Humey is fine and dandy.

One good turn deserves another though, and just after Ben (taking a very proactive anti-pedophile stance against Desmond — Ben is good!) Des revs up his engine, and plays a bit of real-time Frogger with the wheel chair bound substitute teacher. Why did he mow John over? Maybe it was to knock some sense into John. Maybe the one thing John Locke needed to remind him of the island was the ability to walk again, and maybe Doctor Jack Shephard will be able to provide that tiny miracle.

Until Next Week

So until next week, fire up your Hi-Def TV, (Imperative if really and truly believe that Nestor Carbonell is any taller than 5 foot 7) make sure you hit the record function on your TiVo, (For multiple viewings of prophetic blackboard doodles) keep your laptop nearby, (You’ll never know when you might need do Google the complete works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky) load up that bong, (For some of us, LOST isn’t our only drug of choice.) and get ready to get LOST.

Rumor has it Buddy Hackett had a very interesting “oral” contract to perform his stand-up routine in Las Vegas during the early sixties. Want to find out why the word “oral” is in quotations? Visit Joe Oesterle’s blog and find out.
http://joeartistwriter.wordpress.com/2009/11/12/buddy-hacketts-allegeded-contractual-obligations/

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JoeArtistWriter

Joe Oesterle is an award winning writer and illustrator, but what he often fails to mention is that many of those awards were won on a New Jersey boardwalk, shooting a water pistol into the mouth of a plastic clown in an effort to be the first to pop the balloon. Joe has been the Art Director and Senior Editor of the National Lampoon, and his work has appeared in television, radio, books (including Weird California), magazines, and web sites. Joe also has a number of years of experience in both the apparel industry and the advertising world as an Art Director. He has remained relatively unharmed by the experiences. He also wrote, directed, and performed in an animated short that is on display at the Smithsonian Institution. If you are a high powered Hollywood mogul on the look-out for a sheer comic and artistic genius, contact him here, or at Joe@JoeArtistWriter.com. He is not much of a business man, so you could probably cheat him out of some brilliant ideas. (Of which he has plenty.) And Don’t forget to check out the rest of this site. Stories, Illustrations, photography, animation, plus lots more….. actually very little more than that…. but come on…. that’s a lot. Just click the Home page, and scroll deep. http://joeartistwriter.wordpress.com/

6 thoughts on “Joe’s Weekly, Lengthy, Humorous, LOST Review, Blog, Article

  1. LMAOROTF–Love your blog and I guess those lying douche-bags as well:) Sure sounds like purgatory to me–I KNEW those whispers were former island inhabitants!

  2. Thanks as always Odette. Yeah, the island sure sounds like Purgatory, which is why I’m certain that’s only part of it… also the whispers are the trapped souls… hmmm. I’m buying it now, but what if Michael’s lying again just to get off the island. I don’t think so, but I don’t completely trust that douche bag yet either.

  3. Joe, thanks for finding the perfect way to describe this weeks episode. I was trying to search for the right way to sum up my feelings towards this episode. All I could come up with was meh and thanks for the obvious.

    They did have a couple “oh damn” moments, but I will now refer to the writers as douche bags whenever an episode isn’t up to par.

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