So I was going to write this huge exposé on Lost but then I didn't know how to make the accented "e" so I had to look up some random José to copy and paste the "é", and the only José I could think of was José Conseco, and I don't know if I want to support a self-proclaimed steroid abuser and reality TV star, although he was on that season of "The Surreal Life" that also had Balky from "Perfect Strangers" on it, and that's cool because he was in "True Romance" and that movie was awesome, so I guess it's okay to use that José to cut and paste for my exposé.
Turns out it's not really an exposé so much as a rant,though.
I think I'm going to write a letter to Dr. Jack, because he and I have grown apart and not just because of my drinking, but also because somewhere along the way he began to grate my nerves the same way elevator music and my kids bickering does. Here's what I would say:
Dear Dr. Jack,
I understand it is your job to be the show's skeptic and even though you grew up raising all your siblings by yourself on "Party of Five" that's no reason to be such a drag all the time. See the thing is, you have been to a mysterious island that isn't on any maps where there are giant man-eating columns of smoke and unexplained snow bears and Others who were there before you and who wanted to kill you but then didn't, and also your Dad's Ghost© and his body is missing, and planes filled with the Heroin Virgin Mary up in trees and a hatch where you have to type numbers or else the sky turns purple, and also the whole island disappears and time-travels, and every step of the way you've been all "That's impossible." and everyone else is like "Let's run around this island!" and you're all "No." to whatever anyone else says although you seem to always be running around too.
At some point, any rational human being, when exposed to all this weirdness would give up skepticism as a philosophy because every time *I* think "There's no effing way there are any Polar bears here." I am right. And every time you think "There's no way [fucked up thing] can happen." You are wrong. I think I speak for us all when I say stop being so contrary or I'm going to have Ben Linus sneak up on you and steal your kidney because even his back is so evil it's trying to kill him.
Also, the beard was gross. I kept imaging I saw bits of food or a rabbit's leg bone weaved into it*. Thanks for shaving.
* This is a reference to Agrajag. If you don't know who that is, than I feel like I don't even know you, and now it's going to be weird when I ask to borrow money**, so how could you put me through this. Think of ME for a change!
** Also, I would never ask you for money. I would ask where you KEEP your money and certain other craftily worded, security-related questions so that later my team of international sex symbol cat burglars could break into your home and rob you blind. And when you called me to share your lament, I'd be all "That's too bad." and "How did you get this number?" whilst the two sexiest cat burglars make out in a pile of money on the bed behind me.