If you could see me right now, you would say, there is a look of "shock and awe". I am on the verge of doing a cartwheel while simultaneously singing an exuberant jeebus-loving hymn of praise and wonder. I have just composed in my head the most beautiful poem set to the most heavenly music in the history of the planet....all of this because I just finished watching my DVR recording of last week's season finale of Lost.

AND IT DIDN'T SUCK. In fact, I choke on the words as I write them, but, it was...Jesus H. Christ...it was awesome.

I never watched Lost the first year it was on, except for the first episode, which made me very angry and demanded addition to my Do. Not. Ever. Watch. Again. list. It was so preposterous! Such balderdash! People do not behave this way, I said. Are these dickheads joking?

But on a Wednesday a year later, I was bored and somehow found myself watching the end of a new episode. Something freaky and violent happened, I don't remember what, but it appealed to me on the level that only the most addictive TV can. So I started watching the show every week and quickly understood why it was such a Big Dang Deal. Fantastic-looking people who can fight like ninjas, an obese dude who won the lottery with supernatural numbers, a crazy older guy with tons of knives and a sexy bald head, a whole new set of post-traumatic psychotic survivors, all on a gorgeous beach with a jungle containing a monster and all kinds of other trippy shit? Count me in, thank you. I will eat this cheese right up and ask for more.

I even violated my rule against buying DVDs of things I can watch on TV, and bought the first season set so I could catch up. Seriously, I should be locked in prison.

Then this year's season started. And sucked like a supermassive black hole of awful bad suck. All these new characters and boring flashbacks and that stupid blonde woman who has the most smug smirk on her face that I've ever seen; oh my god, it was painful to watch. Nobody gets killed, nobody acts like a normal human being, blah blah, Sawyer and Kate are in cages and want to have sex with each other, and damn that girl can climb like a monkey, and BLAH BLAH. Something about a tumor on that stupid stupid Ben character's spine, fix it Jack you're a hero, bleccchhh. All I wanted to know was, where is Sayid dammit?

You may ask yourself, why is this stupid woman talking about watching a stupid show that she hates? You say, stop watching it, moron. But I couldn't. That's the thing about the sociopaths who make television: they know your weak spots and they hook you on the crack they're selling while they point at you and laugh on their way to the bank. But knowing I'm being tricked only makes me defiant, and I expressed that defiance by continuing to watch just to DARE them to make it good again. I know, I know....I have a dangerously brilliant mind. Don't fear me; I only use my powers for good.

My vigilance paid off. Oh did it ever, my friends. The last few episodes were progressively less awful, and then...the season finale, which I just watched. I don't know what kind of evil geniuses the makers of this show are, but they managed to make me completely flip OUT! I could not believe my eyes: So many ass-beatings! So many killins of people who need killin'! Actual decent acting by the Charlie guy! WALT -- MY SON!!! Hurley in a VW bus! Jack finally proven to be a fucking dumbass! Sayid not being dead! A flashback that I KNEW was not a flashback but was still shocking!

Holy savior on the cross, was this possible? Was I actually rewinding to see Desmond nail that one-eyed jackelope with a dart and to see Sayid snap that bad guy's neck WITH HIS FEET and to see Sawyer shot Tom in the chest because IT IS ABOUT DAMN TIME THEY STARTED KILLING THESE "OTHERS" ASSHOLES?!?!

Yes it was possible. It actually happened and I don't even know how to deal with the world now.

I'm working on putting a voodoo curse on whoever's in charge of that show. Because they should suffer for making me spend the next several months anticipating the next season even more than I anticipated the George Michael concert I went to in 1988. It's just wrong.