Look, Barry. I like you. You've made some missteps and I really wish you'd get off your ass on the DADT thing, but mostly I like you and don't regret having voted for you and will still defend you to my Hillary-worshipping mother.

But I have my limits.

If you pre-empt the season premiere of LOST, I'm going to have to seriously re-evaluate our relationship.

Lost comes back for its final season in less than a month, which of course means it's time for me to start inflicting my insane theories on everyone once again. Hooray! This one occurred to me during my second re-watch of season 5:

( My new Big Theory of Lost. )

Happy New Year, LJers. Be safe as you kick 2009's sorry ass out the door.

Know what's awesome? Getting all dressed and ready to go to your volunteer job and making plans for running errands afterward, only to turn the key on the car and... nothing. No power. Not even the sad churning of an engine trying to turn over, just the silence and the faint sound of the car gods chortling at you from afar.

What a waste of makeup.

So I'm re-watching season 5 of Lost, and right now I have two major observations:

( Season 5 spoilers. )