Holy Hydrogen Bomb!

I've decided to join the thousands who are already blogging about LOST. I might occasionally include a theory, but I mostly want to highlight what I perceive to be the most interesting elements after each new episode.

Season 5—Episode 3: "Jughead"

Wow, this episode was a doozy. I'm glad I chose tonight to start typing up facts and quotes that intrigued me while watching the show.

There were so many jaw-dropping moments. My eyes bugged out and my mouth dropped open when Richard Alpert said, to the young punk telling him he shouldn't trust John Locke, "Put the gun down, Widmore."

Wow! Just, wow! But more on that in a bit.

Daniel also confessed his love for Charlotte...to Richard Alpert, with Charlotte and Miles Straume there, too. Romantic, no? But I suppose it's a good thing he didn't wait any longer, since Charlotte collapses at the end of the episode—after they flashed backward (or was it forward?) yet again—with blood running from both of her nostrils.

When he wasn't confessing his love for Charlotte, Daniel was marching across the island, held at gunpoint by Ellie, a feisty young woman whom I'm convinced we'll learn a lot more about. Daniel's destination: oh, just a large wooden platform/scaffolding that happens to be supporting a dangling hydrogen bomb (property of the U.S. government).

Daniel realizes how volatile this bomb is (it's leaking something—hydrogen? or whatever a hydrogen bomb leaks)and before they flash forward again, he insists that The Others use lead or concrete to neutralize this bomb and then bury it.

We didn't see much (if any) of the Oceanic 6 in this episode, and I couldn't have been happier about that. For me, the most compelling storyline (or should I say "timeline") is taking place on the island, not Los Angeles.

Only slightly less interesting than the events on the island are Desmond's adventures as he and Penny steered their boat back to Great Britain—and Desmond set out to find Daniel's mom, as Daniel had instructed him to do in his dream/memory.

We learned so many things through Desmond's story. Here's a snippet of the new information:

—Oxford has no record of a Daniel Faraday ever working there
—Faraday's old laboratory had a sign on it claiming it was closed for "fumigation."
—When Desmond broke into Daniel's old facilities, a man caught him in there and he said Desmond "wasn't the first to come poking around," and he asked Desmond to tell "his mates" that all he found was "rubbish left behind by a man" (whatever that means...)
—We also see a picture of Daniel with a girl, which we can presume is the same girl who the man in the lab refers to when he says, commenting on the fact that Oxford has removed all records of Faraday, "Do you blame them? After what he done to that poor girl?"
—Speaking of "that poor girl," Desmond goes to the address given to him by this helpful laboratory man and he meets a woman named Abigail. She has a sister, Theresa Spencer, who is bedridden. Theresa's consciousness seems to be jumping to and from different time periods, and Abigail suggests that Daniel "left her this way" when he "ran off to America."
—We learned Widmore is not only paying for the medical care for the bedridden Theresa, but he was also Daniel's benefactor—and he had been funding Daniel's research

Then Desmond burst into Widmore's office. And he demanded that Widmore tell him where Daniel Faraday's mom is.

Widmore, strangely, does comply. Which makes me think it's in his (Widmore's) best interest. Surely he knows why Desmond is looking for her...

If we weren't already convinced that Daniel's mother is Mrs. Hawking, who's first name just so happens to be Eloise, which just so happens to be the name Daniel chose for his time-traveling rat in Season 4's "The Constant," I think we should be pretty darn convinced now. Especially since we know Mrs. Hawking was just seen in Los Angeles in episode 2.

When Widmore gives her address to Desmond he says, "I suspect she won’t be pleased to see you; she’s a very private person."

I can't help thinking there is something more to that quote. It almost seems as if Desmond's agenda (which is Daniel's agenda...and on some level, is most certainly Widmore's agenda) will conflict with her plans (which also seem to be Ben's plans...).

Widmore also implores Desmond to finish delivering this message and then to get away from "this mess," suggesting that what he's going to do will affect many lives (or history, or time, or however he phrased it).

And so Widmore says, "Wherever you were hiding, go back there.”

Desmond then seems reluctant to carry out his mission, or maybe he just feels bad hauling Penny and their young son (another new revelation in this episode) across the ocean to L.A. Penny knows he's lying when he claims that Daniel's mom is dead. And she tells him that they'll go together...but only after we learn that their boy is named Charlie (after the late Charlie Pace, I'm sure—rather than the child's grandfather).

Now let's flash back to the end of the 1954 island scene. John Locke comes out of the island calling for Richard Alpert, and then he claims that Jacob sent him—and I still can't figure out if that's true, or if it was Locke's strategy for claiming the leaderhip role he believes is rightfully his. Eventually Locke shows Alpert the compass (just as Richard had instructed him to do) and Locke also tells him that he's their leader. Richard says that they have a very definite process for selecting their leader—saying that it starts at a very young age.

Locke, in response, suggests that perhaps Richard should go to California in two years—to witness Locke's birth. And, we know, if we remember our past seasons, that Richard did just that. (So that's how Richard knew to be there!)

As for the revelation that Widmore is one of the young kids living on the island...that just made my night. It confirmed some of my suspicions. But it also made me wonder whether we should recognize any of the others (the other Others, as it were). Is Mrs. Hawking there somewhere? Maybe a parent of another character we've come to know? Matthew Abaddon? Christian Shephard? Richard Malkin, the Australian psychic? What about Brother Campbell, the monk at the monastery where Desmond temporarily lived...after all, he did have a picture on his desk of him and Mrs. Hawking.

It's also interesting to note that Locke could have shot Widmore before they knew who he was. They had captured him and another Other, and when the other one started revealing the location of the Others' camp, Widmore broke his neck and ran off through the jungle. Sawyer screamed for Locke to shoot him, but Locke hesitated, and then did nothing. Sawyer grabbed the gun, fired once, and missed. When he asked Locke why he didn't shoot, Locke said, "Because he's one of my people."

Which brings me to...the most notable quotes. I had planned to only include 5, but there were too many good ones. So...

The 11 most notable quotes:

Desmond, after Penny asked him to swear he'll never go back to the island: "Why would I ever want to go back there?"

Richard Alpert, to Daniel: "I assume you've come back for your bomb."

Miles, after Daniel rushes over to ask Charlotte if she's okay: "Yeah, me too. I'm great, too."

Desmond: “You're my life now, you and Charlie.”

Richard: “Put the gun down, Widmore.”

Locke: "Nice to meet you, Charles."

Widmore: "I suspect she won’t be pleased to see you; she’s a very private person."

Locke: "How did you know Richard would be here?"
Juliette: "Richard’s always been here."
Locke: "How old is he?"
Juliette: "He's very old, John."

Locke: “Because he’s one of my people…” (turns out it was Widmore)

Daniel: "I'm in love with the woman sitting next to me…"

Locke: "Jacob sent me."

Despite all the great quotes, alas, there was still nothing that could match Hurley throwing his Hot Pocket into the wall in Episode 2. Maybe next time...

Things to ponder:

1) Why does Daniel tell the woman who is walking him at gunpoint (Ellie?) that she looks familiar? Why does he seem to recognize her?

2) Who is the Jill character who is working in the butcher shop, the one Ben is confiding in? Is that character going to become more relevant, or was she just introduced to show that Ben has cohorts off the island?

3) What is Sun up to? Is she really in cahoots with Widmore? Can she be trusted?

4) Can Sayid be trusted?

5) Why is Charlotte the only one being affected by the time-jumping?

6) Is Ben's childhood friend, Annie, going to emerge in one of these scenes as the island leaps along its timeline?

7) Will Danielle Rousseau and her team of scientists factor in to one of these episodes?

8) What about the Black Rock, the slave ship that was wrecked on the island?

9) What's Pierre Chang's role with the Dharma Initiative? And could Miles be his son, the crying baby in the Comic-Con video (and the baby from the beginning of Episode 1)?

10) Is there something significant about the picture that shows Brother Campbell and Mrs. Hawking together?

11) In "The Constant," Mrs. Hawking told Desmond that fate has a way of "course-correcting," and she told him that he can't change things. Yet Daniel seems to think Desmond has the ability to change things. And the fate of those on the island (especially Charlotte, at the moment) seems to be riding on Desmond's ability to change things. So if this is true, who else is special (like Desmond), able to change things? And did Mrs. Hawking know Desmond was special? She once told him that pushing that button was the only truly great thing he would ever do. Was that a lie to get him to fall in and do what she wanted?

12) Is John Locke going to be presented as a Christ figure—sacrificing his life to save the others (and his beloved island)? I'm hoping not. I think LOST can be more innovative than that.

This isn't a point to ponder, but I just realized that Mrs. Hawking's name is clearly a reference to Stephen Hawking. And I'm not sure how I could have missed that before.

Overall, I think "Jughead" was one of my favorite episodes from any season. It answered a lot of my questions, and it got me even more excited about where we're going next...



—Thanks for Reading

This is disgusting ...(and no, I'm not referring to what you think I am)

Let me begin by saying I don't have a strong opinion about Jessica Simpson one way or the other; I don't think she's loathsome, nor does she ever inspire rapt admiration from me.

That being said, I'm disgusted by our media (and that takes a lot) and the suddenly pervasive commentaries on her weight/figure.

These pictures were taken when she recently performed at a Chili-Cookoff in Texas. Why do I know this? To be honest, I wish I didn't. I wish this "hot story" hadn't been picked up by mutliple media outlets.

I suppose the media is often drawn to stories (or at least, pictures) like this. So I probably shouldn't be surprised... but I just found this especially disturbing. Jessica Simpson appears to have gained a little weight. Is she going to have a heart attack tomorrow? Be on The Biggest Loser next fall? No, I don't think so.

Meanwhile, there's a whole host of Hollywood actresses who are starving themselves to be skinny. There are girls literally dying from anorexia because of this crap. Because they don't want to put on 10 pounds and be crucified in the news—instead they'll do anything to avoid the same scathing reports Jessica Simpson has been forced to endure this week.



So while some girls are starving themselves, delusional and desperate, Jessica Simpson just might be enjoying food...unbelievable as that might be—a starlet who actually eats.


What kind of message does that send to young girls? And what does that say about our media? About us?

I just think it's disgusting.


—Thanks for Reading

Zooey's Jesus

Since my good friend Chad feels I cheated with my last post, simply embedding my review from goodreads.com, I decided not to embed my review of the book I just finished, J.D. Salinger's Franny and Zooey.

Instead, I'm going to post the long quote from the book that I referred to as one of the best descriptions of Jesus I've ever read.

Just do me one favor. Don't scroll to the bottom of the post to see how long it is. It might make you decide it's not worth reading. But trust me, it is. Just start reading, and I don't think you'll regret it.

If you haven't read this book, know that Zooey is Franny's older brother. And they're both brilliant. Zooey's about 25 and Franny is roughly 20, I think.

The quote begins with Zooey and continues that way with only mild interference from his sister, Franny (everything emphasized by bold type was added by yours truly):

"This last thing," he said abruptly, "will probably cause an explosion. But I can't help it. It's the most important thing of all." He appeared to consult the ceiling plaster briefly, then closed his eyes. "I don't know if you remember, but I remember a time around here, buddy, when you were going through a little apostasy from the New Testament that could be heard for miles around. Everyone was in the goddam Army at the time, and I was the one that got his ear bent. But do you remember? Do you remember it at all?"
"I was all of ten years old!" Franny said—nasally, rather dangerously.
"I know you were. I know how old you were. I know very well how old you were. C'mon, now. I'm not bringing this up with the idea of throwing anything back in your teeth—my God. I'm bringing this up for a good reason. I'm bringing it up because I don't think you understood Jesus when you were a child and I don't think you understand him now. I think you've got him confused in your mind with about five or ten other religious personages, and I don't see how you can go ahead with the Jesus prayer til you know who's who and what's what. Do you remember at all what started that little apostasy?…Franny? Do you remember, or don't you?"
He didn't get an answer. Only the sound of a nose being rather violently blown.
"Well, I do, it happens. Matthew, Chapter Six. I remember is very clearly, buddy. I even remember where I was. I was back in my room putting some friction tape on my goddam hockey stick, and you banged in—all in an uproar, with the Bible wide open. You didn't like Jesus anymore, and you wanted to know if you could call Seymour at his Army camp and tell him all about it. And you know why you didn't like Jesus anymore? I'll tell you. Because, one, you didn't approve of his going into the synagogue and throwing all the tables and idols all over the place. That was very rude, very Unnecessary. You were sure that Solomon or somebody wouldn't have done anything like that. And the other thing you disapproved of—the thing you had the Bible open to—was the lines 'Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them.' That was all right. That was lovely. That you approved of. But, when Jesus says in the same breath, 'Are ye not much better than they?'—ah, that's where little Franny gets off. That's where little Franny quits the Bible cold and goes straight to Buddha, who doesn't discriminate against all those nice fowls of the air. All those sweet, lovely chickens and geese that we used to keep up at the Lake. And don't tell me again that you were ten years old. Your age has nothing to do with what I'm talking about. There are no big changes between ten and twenty—or ten and eighty, for that matter. You still can't love a Jesus as much as you'd like to who did and said a couple of things he was at least reported to have said or done—and you know it. You're constitutionally unable to love or understand any son of God who throws tables around. And you're constitutionally unable to love or understand any son of God who says a human being, any human being—even a Professor Tupper—is more valuable to God than any soft, helpless Easter chick."
Franny was now facing directly into the sound of Zooey's voice, sitting bolt upright, a wad of Kleenex clenched in one hand. Bloomberg was no longer in her lap. "I suppose you can," she said, shrilling.
"It's beside the point whether I can or not. But, yes, as a matter of fact, I can. I don't feel like going into it, but at least I've never tried, consciously or otherwise, to turn Jesus into St. Francis of Assisi to make him more 'lovable'—which is exactly what ninety-eight percent of the Christian world has always insisted on doing. Not that it's to my credit. I don't happen to be attracted to the St. Francis of Assisi type. But you are. And, in my opinion, that's one of the reasons why you're having this little nervous breakdown. And especially the reason why you're having it at home. This place is made to order for you. The service is good, and there's plenty of hot and cold running ghosts. What could be more convenient? You can say your prayer here and roll Jesus and St. Francis and Seymour and Heidi's grandfather all in one." Zooey's voice stopped, very briefly. "Can't you see that? Can't you see how unclearly, how sloppily, you're looking at things? My God, there's absolutely nothing tenth-rate about you, and you're up to your neck at this minute in tenth-rate thinking. Not only is the way you're going about your prayer tenth-rate religion but, whether you know it or not, you're having a tenth-rate nervous breakdown. I've seen a couple of real breakdowns, and the people who had them didn't bother to pick and choose the place they—"
"Just stop it, Zooey! Just stop it!" Franny said, sobbing.
"I will, in a minute, in just a minute. Why are you breaking down, incidently? I mean if you're able to go into a collapse with all your might, why can't you use the same energy to stay well and busy? All right, so I'm being unreasonable. I'm being very unreasonable now. But, my God, how you try what little patience I was born with! You take a look around your college campus, and the world, and politics, and one season of summer stock, and you listen to the conversation of a bunch of nitwit college students, and you decide that everything's ego, ego, ego, and the only intelligent thing for a girl to do is lie around and shave her head and say the Jesus Prayer and beg God for a little mystical experience that'll make her nice and happy."
Franny shrieked, "Will you shut up, please?" …
"Always the heavy," Zooey said, a trifle too matter-of-factly. "No matter what I say, I sound as though I'm undermining your Jesus Prayer. And I'm not, God damn it. All I am is against why and how and where you're using it. I'd like to be convinced—I'd love to be convinced—that you're not using it as a substitute for doing whatever the hell your duty is in life, or just your daily duty. Worse than that, though, I can't see, I swear to God I can't—how you can pray to a Jesus you don't even understand. And what's really inexcusable, considering that you've been funnel-fed on just about the same amount of religious philosophy that I have—what's really inexcusable is that you don't try to understand him. There'd be some excuse for it if you were either a very simple person, like the pilgrim, or a very goddam desperate person—but you're not simple, buddy, and you're not that damned desperate." … "God Almighty, Franny," he said. "If you're going to say the Jesus Prayer, at least say it to Jesus, and not to St. Francis and Seymour and Heidi's grandfather all wrapped up in one. Keep him in mind if you say it, and him only, and him as he was and not as you'd like him to have been. You don't face any facts. This same damned attitude of not facing facts is what got you into this messy state of mind in the first place, and it can't possibly get you out of it." …
"The part that stumps me, really stumps me, is that I can't see why anybody—unless he was a child, or an angel, or a lucky simpleton like the pilgrim—would even want to say the prayer to a Jesus who was the least bit different from the way he looks and sounds in the New Testament. My God! He's only the most intelligent man in the Bible, that's all! Who isn't he head and shoulders over? Who? Both Testaments are full of pundits, prophets, disciples, favorite sons, Solomons, Isaiahs, Davids, Pauls—but, my God, who beside Jesus really knew which end was up? Nobody. Not Moses. Don't tell me Moses. He was a nice man, and he kept in beautiful touch with his God, and all that—but that's exactly the point. He had to keep in touch. Jesus realized there is no separation from God…Oh, my God, what a mind!" he said. "Who else, for example, would have kept his mouth shut when Pilate asked for an explanation? Not Solomon. Don't say Solomon. Solomon would have had a few pithy words for the occasion. I'm not sure Socrates wouldn't have, for that matter. Crito, or somebody, would have managed to pull him aside just long enough to get a couple of well-chosen words for the record. But most of all, above everything, who in the Bible besides Jesus knew—knew—that we're carrying the Kingdom of Heaven around with us, inside, where we're all too goddam stupid and sentimental and unimaginative to look? You have to be a son of God to know that kind of stuff. Why don't you think of these things? I mean it, Franny, I'm being serious. When you don't see Jesus for exactly what he was you miss the whole point of the Jesus Prayer. If you don't understand Jesus, you can't understand his prayer—you don't get the prayer at all, you just get some kind of organized cant. Jesus was a supreme adept, by God, on a terribly important mission. This was no St. Francis, with enough time to knock out a few canticles, or to preach to the birds, or to do any of the other endearing things so close to Franny Glass's heart. I'm being serious now, God damn it. How can you miss seeing that? If God had wanted somebody with St. Francis's consistently winning personality for the job in the New Testament, he'd've picked him, you can be sure. As it was, he picked the best, the smartest, the most loving, the least sentimental, the most unimitative master he could possibly have picked. And when you miss seeing that, I swear to you, you're missing the whole point of the Jesus prayer. The Jesus Prayer has one aim, and one aim only. To endow the person who says it with Christ-Consciousness. Not to set up some little cozy, holier-than-thou trysting place with some sticky, adorable divine personage who'll take you in his arms and relieve you of all your duties and make all your nasty Weltschmerzen and Professor Tuppers go away and never come back. And by God, if you have intelligence enough to see that—and you do—and yet you refuse to see it, then you're misusing the prayer, you're using it to ask for a world full of dolls and saints and no Professor Tuppers."



When I read all that, it gave me goosebumps. If you didn't find it as interesting, I apologize...but that doesn't mean I'm sorry.

--Thanks for reading.

Reviewing The Road

Wow, it's been a long time since I've written...

So I thought I'd paste a book review I posted on goodreads today:


The Road by Cormac McCarthy

My review

rating: 4 of 5 stars
This book was very good. If I were writing an official review, I'd probably try to use a word like "harrowing" or "haunting" or some such adjective...and then I'd decide that it was an inadequate description and I'd rack my brain for a more suitable description...eventually determining that each new one was just as unsuitable as the first...



So I'm glad I'm not writing an official review. And I can just say "this book was very good" and leave it at that...



...except I can't leave it at that. Because, despite the "very good"-ness of this book, I don't think it was nearly as monumental as do those who have written official reviews.



Do I think it shouldn't have won the Pulitzer? No, I think that honor may have been well-deserved. Other honors, however, seem a bit preposterous to me. What honors could be bigger than the Pulitzer, you ask?



Well, Entertainment Weekly concluded that The Road is the best book in the last 25 years. British environmentalist George Monbiot determined, after reading The Road, that author Cormac McCarthy is one of 50 people "who could save the planet."



Monbiot also claimed that The Road is the "most important environmental book ever written." That quote first startled me, and then it provided the enlightenment for which I was looking.



Never once while reading The Road did I think of it as an environmental book. Looking back on it, I still don't.



A father and son are traveling a road in a post-apocalyptic world. The earth is bitter cold, covered in ash, and no longer capable of sustaining healthy life. If you want to claim this setting makes The Road an environmental book, fine. But then I'll claim it's the most important civil engineering book ever written---a testament to the durability and longevity of our finely-constructed roads.



The book, thankfully, contains no explanation for the ash that permeates everything, nor does it explain the eternal coldness. It doesn't say that humans destroyed the earth...



...and if readers want to infer that, I suppose that's their prerogative. And I suppose that prerogative will continue to elevate The Road's status in our increasingly environment-loving world.



In my opinion, The Road is a good book. If you're reading it as a caution against destroying the environment, then perhaps you will see it as a great book.



But if that were the real message behind it, if that were the thread on which the story relied, it would actually detract from the beauty of the story---a story about a father and son and their unbreakable bond, a story about the perseverance of man and the willingness to suffer in the hope that hope might still exist. That's what makes The Road a good book, not some subtle---and dare I say, petty---environmental warning.



I would recommend The Road for anyone. Including you overzealous environmentalists...and the overzealous civil engineers, wherever they might be.






View all my reviews.