Thursday, May 10, 2007

LOST! LOST! LOST!

I love LOST.

Really, I do. But come on! How damn confusing does one stupid show need to be? I'm a notorious multi-tasker. With the Internet, Texas Hold 'em on my Blackberry, scribbling through the Sudoku puzzle book my mom bought me for Christmas, magazines, the daily mail... etc. I'm usually futzing around with one of those other things while I watch TV. But for LOST, I turn off my computer, put my phone out of reach, and I don't even think about what the postman stuffed in my box that day. Hell, I even bought a 47" HDTV which I intently watch, unblinking, fully engaged, scanning for any tiny hint, twitch, or twitter that may be a key or even a skimpy clue to the season's storyline. BUT NOTHING! Just one seemingly unfitting and unrelated jigsaw puzzle piece after the other.

My friend Wayne (who watches irritatingly little TV) is a master jigsaw puzzle uh... player? Not sure of the noun there. He gets jigsaw puzzles as gifts that have a higher piece count than Carter's has pills (I need to come up with a catchy quantity metaphor from this century). We're not talking a puzzle amature here. If there is such a thing as professional jigsaw puzzling, Wayne would kick ass. I know he can whip together the world's largest puzzle (an 18,000 piece mind-scrambling picture of ancient world maps) but if LOST were a jigsaw puzzle, I think it would reduce even my jigsaw puzzle savant friend to a weaping puddle.

In case you think I'm kidding about the insane map jigsaw puzzle I mentioned above, here's the proof. For most of the non-jigsaw-puzzle-savant universe, this cut up cardboard version of waterboarding (which the CIA will neither confirm nor deny "we don't talk about techniques, but we don't torture" -- yeah, right) can be yours for a mere $150. Quite a deal when you consider this one jigsaw puzzle would probably be a lifetime hobby for most humans. In case you're tempted, here's a link to 4 Historic World Maps Worlds Largest Jigsaw Puzzle 18000 pc .

So, back to LOST. Lest you think I'm a lazy viewer, let me tell you the lengths I've gone to trying to figure out this enigma. For one thing, I read through endless opining about the show on the LOST Message Boards at ABC. Like most fans obsessed with something, the LOST fans are no slackers in the energy they expend concocting theories about every jot and tittle of the show. These folks find deep and twisted meaning behind every scene of the show. I myself draw the line at watching even the more convoluted episodes only twice... I'm not nearly versed enough in every second of every episode to participate in the chatter, but it's fun to lurk.

A common tool that writers of these brain-twisting shows use is anagrams. You know, a word or words formed by rearranging the letters of another word. So, in last night's episode, in one of many mind-numbing flashbacks as Ben and his father first arrive on the island there is a sign welcoming them with the word "Namaste." A quick Wikipedia search revealed that the obvious definition of the word is "an Indian greeting or parting phrase as well as a gesture." But I'm not fooled by the obvious so I take this new clue word "Namaste" to an Anagram Generator to find out what this new clue really means!

AH-HA! If you watch the show you know that one of the more popular theories about the plot is that the "survivors" are actually all dead (confirmed by a new arrival to the island last week who said the outside world believes them all dead and that the plane was found at the bottom of the ocean someplace else). The theory is that they are actually in Hell or pergetory or something. If you didn't know that and I just spoiled it for you, sorry.

So, back to the anagram. It's so obvious now! The letters of the word Namaste rearrange into the words "Satan Me." WOW! That must mean something, right? Hell-->Satan Me. Right? OK, OK, so the letters of the word Namaste also rearrange into the words "Santa Me," and "Same Ant," but what the hell would that mean?

Oh, I give up. I guess I'm just going to have to keep watching and hope that the writers aren't sadistic enough to keep digging this hole of confusion until we all give up and tune into CSI NY on Wednesday nights. At least those CSI blood-soaked mysteries are solved at the end of every hour. In the meantime, maybe I'll send away for this jigsaw puzzle and invite Wayne over. Who knows, maybe this is where all the real clues are and at a measly 1000 pieces he should have it knocked out in 10 or 15 minutes.