Dear Insanely Passionate “Lost” Fans,
Hey, how ya doin’? I hope I’m not intruding on a discussion of whether Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindelof are the greatest men to walk the Earth or merely Christlike. Speaking of Christ, have you noticed all the heavy-handed crucifixion symbolism? Oh, of course you have. You notice everything.
I’m writing to you today on behalf of people who watch and enjoy “Lost” but aren’t, you know, totally drinking the Cuse-Lindelof Kool-Aid. (You may, if you wish, refer to us as “the Others.”) Like, maybe we checked out during Season 3 because it kinda sucked. Or maybe the time travel last season was a bit much to swallow. Or we think that a lot of the character interaction feels stilted and fake. Or maybe — and I know this is a cruel thing to suggest — we think that all the far-fetched ideas are entertaining, but it’s all just stuff the show’s writers have pulled out of their asses under the pressure of a deadline. In other words: the possibility exists that there’s no grand puzzle, merely some unnecessarily complex mumbo-jumbo designed to ensnare viewers who are predisposed to mysteries beyond the realm of Newtonian physics.
And that’s cool if that’s your thing. We all need hobbies, and obsessing over “Lost” is certainly healthier than drowning kittens. But I’m writing today to draw a line in the sand, Losties. Because, let’s face it, you people are the most annoying genre fans ON THE ENTIRE PLANET.
I realize the gravity of that accusation, and I’m quite serious. In the vast array of genre fans — from Klingon-speaking Trekkies to teenage goth-girl Twihards to suicidal Avatards who don’t want to live on a planet that doesn’t bioluminesce — no one is quite as annoying as you, Losties. The difference is simple: those who love Star Trek or Twilight or Avatar imagine themselves inhabiting that fictional world; they do what they can to separate themselves from us normal folk who enjoy the simple realities of watching sports, having beers with friends, and engaging in sex that generally doesn’t require costumes or stage makeup.
You, however, walk among us regular folk. You ARE regular folk, for the most part. You don’t entertain fantasies of living on the Island; you wish only to discuss the various theories that might unlock the Gordian knot the show’s writers have concocted.
The key word there is “discuss” — you mustn’t actually KNOW any tiny detail of the show until you witness it with your own eyes, lest your rapturous viewing experience be sullied by spoilers on the Internet. Now, most people would recognize this foible as being susceptible to modern technology, and would act accordingly by not checking the Internet until they viewed the most recent episode. Oh no.
No, the Internet apparently BELONGS to Losties. You can’t make a change in your personal habits to ensure your enjoyment of the show; no, Twitter must change to meet your needs. Everyone from Twitter to Facebook to the Google cache of their old Geocities site needs to shut the hell up about “Lost” until everyone on the God damn planet has finished watching the entire series. Because everything is a spoiler to someone. EVERYTHING.
We can’t talk about last week’s episode yet because Johnny Jackass was on a business trip and hasn’t gotten to his DVR yet. In fact, anything in Season 6 is off-limits because we all need to be respectful of overseas viewers who have only watched through Season 5. Oh, and you know what? Bob and Mary Jane Johnson of Sioux Falls were a little late getting into the show, so they’re only halfway through Season 2 on DVD at the moment. “What do you mean Season 4 has flashforwards instead of flashbacks? THANKS FOR RUINING IT FOR ME, JERK!”
The thing is, I don’t expect you to change, Losties. But just as you’re an immovable object bitching about spoilers, so too can I be an irresistible force of Internet spoilers. And so, starting tonight at approximately 9:20 p.m. Eastern (the time at which I can DVR through commercials), I will live-tweet EVERY SPOILER I FEEL LIKE from my personal twitter feed. Why? Because someone needs to do it. Because I’m a dick. Because SUCK IT, you deserve it.
Now, I’ll keep things perfectly civil and within Internet decorum here at Warming Glow and the @WarmingGlow feed. Losties will remain welcome here. But @mattufford? That’s the line in the sand. You’re dead to me. Unfollow me or I will take delight in spoiling every aspect of “Lost” for you. It’s on, bitches.
Have a nice day.
(Ed. Note: part of this letter is featured at 815 Sentences About Lost)