Fresh water. It isn’t the easiest thing to come by, especially with the world’s population bulging like a genuine American’s waistband. What are we going to do, eh? According to one Brain Trust who clearly were awed by the  prescience  of Waterworld, we gotta get our pee drinking on. Way ahead of you! (…Wait, what?)

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It was Saturday evening, and I had just dropped my movie ticket into the toilet in a local movie theater’s bathroom. The toilet was filled with impressive, neon yellow piss. It was nearly glowing with a haunting lack of dilution. It was not my piss. I stared aghast, as the ticket began to sink into the yellow horror. I didn’t know what to do. For as gross as I am, I don’t traffic in Movie Theater Piss Play with strangers. I probably just let you down, huh?

I had been acting like an asshole, and that’s how it goes.

Lately I’ve been suffering a wonderful hypochondriac madness. I’ve been certain, for no good reason, that I have some sort of penis, testicular, groin-based cancer. For no good reason. This has led to me confusingly rubbing my balls every twenty minutes. Checking for lumps. I’m not sure what I’m looking for. So I just rub my balls in a madness, confirm that I can’t feel anything worthwhile, and go back to my life. Certain that I have some sort of nut cancer, I just can’t find it.

Welcome to my world.

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Oh no.

Oh nooooooo.

What the fuck is this giggly shitfest that has besmirched one of my favorite shows of all time? Or uh, what could have been one of my favorite shows of all time. There was a silly, dastardly period of my life when I was concerned that LOST could usurp my previous binky for favorite show of all time. I’d have to do deep soul-searching and come to the recognition that LOST was simply superior, and therefore I would have to accept it as my number one viewing experience.

Thankfully, Damon Lindelof, Carlton Cuse, and whatever sort of sugary assholes they’ve holed up in the conference room while barfing out these last few episodes have taken that worry away from me.

I’ll always love you, Billy Adama. I’m sorry I ever thought I’d have to leave you.

Do you guys know how fucking powerful love is? Yeah, well guess what, you’re about to find out! Christ, it has all sorts of magical powers. Maybe the Island is just a big consummation of Zeus’ love for Hera or some shit. Fuck the Island man, love is totally going to save the day. I mean, check it out, it solves aphasia!

Oh, no. I hope those of you who thought that Sun’s inability to speak the English language was some sort of awesome plot-point could settle for her reunion with Jin.

I was actually feeling Sun and Jin’s reunion. Don’t mistake me for some scabby, jaded asshole. I’m actually a weepy mess. I cry every time I hear Aeris’ theme, every time I watch the Lion King, and sometimes while marveling at the ineffable complexity and beauty of the universe.

Do you know what I do when Jin and Sun embrace? I get a little tingle. Do you know what I do when Lapidus comments after Sun talks that it “Looks like someone got their voice back”? I puke all over myself while clutching my skull with both hands and hope I’m in some Transdimensional Universe where the writers from LOST have been replaced by Lifetime Movie Special assholes.

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