Zip It, Jack!

My patience is wearing thin, LOST. Not for your unanswerable mysteries or unfathomable ecosystem. Not for your physical impossibilities or temporal impossibilities or possibility impossibilities. I’m still cool with all of that. It’s this repeat conversation that’s starting to drive me batty:

NATIVE DUDE
Come with me.

OCEANIC DUDE
Where are we going?

NATIVE DUDE
I must show you.

OCEANIC DUDE
I won’t go.

NATIVE DUDE
You must go.

OCEANIC DUDE
No.

NATIVE DUDE
Then we will conk you on the head and drag you.

OCEANIC DUDE
No you wo…

*Conk…Drag

Or sometimes there’s this conversation.

NATIVE DUDE
We need to speak in private.

OCEANIC DUDE
Whatever you have to say to me you can say in front of everyone.

NATIVE DUDE
This is only for your ears.

OCEANIC DUDE
Well I’m not leaving my friends.

NATIVE DUDE
They aren’t really your friends. You were in a plane crash together and at one point all of them have tried to kill you.

OCEANIC DUDE
And I them. You can tell it to all of us or none of us.

NATIVE DUDE
We can do this the easy way or the hard way.

OCEANIC DUDE
Fiiiiiiiiinnne. But if you try anything funny there’s a guy in LA blogging about this and he’ll tell everyone.

We could’ve wrapped up this mystery two years ago if Oceanic dudes weren’t so goddamn stubborn about following the natives. Newsflash: You’re jumping through time on an island that may not exist! Ditch your dogma, listen to the dude who isn’t shocked by the jungle temple or the giant boot in the middle of a beach.

For people covetous of answers they sure do put up a fight when someone tries to offer some.

My name is Ben and I blogged this.