The Five Worst Fathers on LOST

It's "Five Worst" Week over on The Collective, so I thought I'd join in. Yeah, I pretty much exclusively write blog posts that are based on Collective topics anymore. They pick good topics and they tell me what to think, so why shouldn't I? Back off with your judgment! With that, I give you...

The Five Worst Fathers on Lost

J.J. Abrams clearly has daddy issues. I haven't seen a lot of the show, but I can tell you that Sydney and her father didn't exactly have the best relationship on Alias. Spock and his father got along alright in Star Trek, but only in their shared appreciation of logic - when it came to emotion, Spock appreciated it while his father saw it as a problem to be overcome. Those scenarios are nothing compared to the relationships between fathers and children on Lost. Read on to find out just how horrible the paternal units on this show really are.

*Also note that there are big spoilers in this post. If you haven't watched Lost at all and you plan to at some point, maybe think about not reading this. Not that I don't want you to read. I just don't want to hurt your feelings.*

Honorable Mention: David Reyes


Hurley's father may be cool now, but he wasn't always. When Hugo was just a kid, dear old dad told Hugo he was running to the store and then never came back. That is, until Hugo won the lottery, then surprise! Dad's back! Hugo and his father have since reconciled, but that doesn't change the fact that when Hurley was a kid his dad totally bailed on him.

5: Mr. Ford


As far as I can tell, Sawyer's father doesn't have a first name. He's not around long enough to be given one, really. The most he's ever been shown on the show is as a set of feet. James Ford was just a kid when his parents were swindled by a man calling himself "Tom Sawyer." After having lost everything to this man, James's father came home one day in a rage. His mother rushed to protect the young James, advising him to hide under his bed before going out to confront his father. It was then that Mr. Ford killed his wife, then came into the room where James was hiding, sat down on the bed, and shot himself, leaving James all alone to plot revenge against Tom Sawyer. His revenge would come much later, but we'll come back to that.

4: Michael Dawson


His shining moment was watching helplessly as his son, Walt, was kidnapped. Okay, not really. His shining moment was murdering Ana Lucia and Libby in order to free Ben and thus (hopefully) get his son back. That's the most monumental of his fuck-ups, really, but it's indicative of a larger problem. From the start, Michael just didn't know how to be a father. He was protective of Walt, but overly so to the point of just looking like a jerk. He forbade Walt from talking to Locke, who was teaching the boy valuable survival skills. And then, when Walt was kidnapped, he went about rescuing him the only way he knew how: by doing stupid shit like agreeing to help the Others save Ben from the castaways. Sure, it got he and Walt off the island, but at what price, Michael? Libby. That's what price.

3: Christian Shepard


With a name like that, he's got to be a good guy, right? Well, Christian's not exactly a bad guy, but he's sure not a model father, either. Christian was never as supportive of Jack as he could have been. Sure, he taught Jack that 'take a deep breath and count to five' thing, but not before totally undermining Jack's abilities during his first major surgery. Jack could never live up to the monumentally high expectations that his father set for him. Later, Christian attempted to perform surgery while drunk, and lost his job as a result of Jack ratting him out. Sure, Christian was proud of Jack for telling on him, but he never said as much to Jack's face. And then he died, and Jack had to cart his body back to the U.S. from Australia on a flight that just so happened to crash on a mysterious island. Jack is only there because his father was a dick. Way to go, Christian. Oh, BTW, you're Claire's father, too, even though she never knew you. And you totally banged Ana Lucia. Creepy old guy.

2: Wayne Jansen


Wayne Jansen is better known as Kate's father. Sure, she was raised by Sgt. Sam Austen, but he's not her bio-dad. That honor belongs to this bastard, who knocked up Kate's mother (presumably she was cheating on her husband with him) and then let the kid be raised by some other guy. Way to be a deadbeat dad, Wayne. Later, Kate's parents got a divorce, and her mom married old Wayne here. He beat the crap out of Kate's mom on a regular basis, to the point that Kate eventually blew up Wayne's house - with Wayne inside. But not before a drunk Wayne tried to hit on Kate. Classy until the very end, sir. Another honorable 'bad parenting' mention goes to Kate's mom, who turned in her own daughter for the murder.

1: Anthony Cooper


In real life, Anthony Ashley-Cooper was a mentor to John Locke. On Lost, however, Anthony Cooper is the worst father you could ever hope for, and probably the worst person to ever appear on the show. Cooper always knew he had a son, but never bothered to find him and was content to have the boy put up for adoption. That boy grew up into John Locke, all-around sweetheart of a guy. In the meantime, Cooper, who was a fairly successful con man, had adopted the name of Tom Sawyer and used it to swindle poor James Ford's parents out of all of their money. That's right. Anthony Cooper is responsible for Sawyer's parents' deaths.

Years later, Anthony Cooper learned that he was sick. He needed a kidney in order to survive. So he tracked down his son. He manipulated Locke into starting a father/son relationship with him. He broke the news that he needed a kidney so that Locke would donate one of his. And after the surgery was completed, while Locke was still under anesthesia, Cooper took off. No note, nothing. He literally stole Locke's kidney and then just left. But that's not the biggest of his dick moves. No, that came when Locke, who continued to hound Cooper, tried to break up another of the old man's cons. So Cooper pushed him out of an eight-story building. To recap: fathered Locke and then left him; caused the orphaning of Sawyer; stole Locke's kidney; pushed Locke out of a window. He got his comeuppance when the Others kidnapped him and brought him to the island so that Locke could kill him. Locke didn't do it, but Sawyer did. Still, though, this guy did a lot of damage in his time. Is it possible that he's the worst father to ever appear on TV? I really think so.

Guilty Pleasure Friday

Over on The Collective (where I am routinely told what to think and how to think it), they've been talking about guilty pleasures this week. Rather than simply post a comment there today, I thought I would share some with you, the loyal and/or occasional reader. So here they are, in no particular order.

1. Gilmore Girls. 'But Joe, that's a girl show!' Shut it, ass. They talk fast, they make obscure pop culture references, and Lauren Graham is one of them. There was never any doubt that I would love this show. I watched the first two seasons on DVD, and became so invested in the characters that when I disagreed with their life choices at the end of season two I vowed never to watch again. And I haven't. Yet. It's really only a matter of time.

2. System of a Down. I go back and forth on thinking that these guys are actually a good band and thinking they're awful, but no matter if they're good or bad I still really like them. I will rock that shit out. I can't listen to them at work because when I do it looks like I'm having a seizure, I rock out to this band so hard. Or I would imagine that that's what it looks like.

3. Flatulence noises. I'm not talking about actual flatulence, I'm talking about the sound of it. Yes, it's childish, but it's also fucking hilarious. A well-placed farty noise is always welcome as far as I'm concerned.

4. The Star Wars prequels. Yes, I know the dialogue is awful and the acting is wooden. But did you see all those Jedi? And Darth Maul was so cool! Lightsaber fights just work on me. Don't you dare judge me.

5. Superhero action figures. Heh, just kidding, I don't feel guilty about this at all. Just try and feel guilty when you've got this sweet-ass display in your apartment!


I know, right? Amazing. You hear that, grade school bullies? Your asshattery towards me has worn off! I hardly ever wake up crying anymore!

Those are just a few of the many, many guilty pleasures that I have. What are some of yours, dear reader?

"Anyone who can't make money on Sports Night should get out of the money-making business."

If you ever want to know if a show is going to get cancelled or not, just ask me if I like it, and if I say yes, then you know that it's not long for this world. I have a tendency to get attached to TV shows that end up being cancelled for one reason or another. I'll start watching a show and it will be really good and I will like it a lot, and then it will get cancelled because no one else is watching it.

This has been happening for years. Fox's Andy Richter Controls the Universe was a brilliant, imaginative, damn funny series that was cancelled only to be replaced by a show called (I kid you not) The Stupids. The live-action version of The Tick was just as funny and just as cancelled, and while I think that shows like it and ARCTU would survive today, they just didn't have a chance ten years ago. Of course, it's well-documented that Fox doesn't know how to treat new shows. It's truly a miracle that Arrested Development somehow managed to hold on for three seasons. And I'm only talking about shows I watched when they were on the air; there are plenty of other series (Firefly, Wonderfalls) that, had I watched them when they were originally aired and not years later on DVD, I would've been crushed when they were violently removed from the schedule after only 11 or 4 episodes, respectively.

And it's not just a Fox problem. Over on ABC, they're just as clueless. Sports Night limped through two glorious, low-rated seasons before getting the axe. The Clerks animated series, a direct precursor to the style of humor that Seth McFarlane has run into the ground and easily ten times as funny as the best episode of Family Guy, aired only two episodes before being cancelled. And after debuting its first season with very strong ratings, Pushing Daisies lost its viewership and was canned, though this was not ABC's fault, as PD was a clear casualty of last year's Writer's Strike.

This problem that I have is not strictly limited to TV shows. Invariably my favorite comic book series are always the ones that no one reads and that end within a year or two of their start (Hourman, Manhunter, Gotham Central, Nextwave, Sleeper, Spider-Man Loves Mary Jane, Breach...I could go on). Even the toy lines that I collect seem to hobble along until finally they just fade away.

It doesn't always end badly, though. NBC's Chuck came close to suffering the same fate as Pushing Daisies, but thankfully was granted a third season, and I couldn't be happier. I think, though, that that's the most stressful part of watching TV for me at this point: worrying about whether the shows I love are going to get picked up. Sure, we all know The Office isn't going anywhere, and The CW will absolutely never let Smallville die (I will stick with you until the end, Clark, no matter how bad your adventures are), but everything else is up in the air. I love Chuck and I really got into Dollhouse towards the end of the season, and I am ecstatic that both are returning for another season, but I sincerely hope that their ratings improve next year, not only because I want to make sure they can come back for more, but also because I just cannot handle the constant stress of not knowing whether a show I enjoy is going to be unceremoniously killed. When the announcement came that Pushing Daisies had been pulled from the schedule, I was sad, but I have to admit I was also a little relieved. I had closure, and no matter how heart-broken I was, I could at least move on. I suppose watching these constantly on-the-bubble TV shows is a lot like being in a really unstable relationship.

And yet I'm magnetically drawn to these shows, for one reason or another. Sure, they hurt you sometimes, but the good times are so good that it more than makes up for the bad. At least, that's what I tell myself. Really I think I might just be a glutton for punishment.

Eradicator!

It's TV Week over on The Collective, and in yesterday's post Kat mentioned her love of The Kids in the Hall. This led me to reflect on my own enjoyment of those lovable Canadian scamps, and I decided to look up my favorite sketches on the interwebs. So here are three of my favorite Kids in the Hall sketches:

3. What's all the hoopla?



2. My favorite zombie chase scene ever.



1. The Eradicator!



Thirty Helens agree: The Kids in the Hall are awesome.

Missed It By *That* Much

Back in 2004, it was announced that Conan O'Brien would be leaving NBC's Late Night to replace Jay Leno as the host of The Tonight Show. This was a huge deal for me, as I spent many a night in the '90s and nearly all of the nights of the '00s up until that point falling asleep while watching Conan. I was excited for him to move to The Tonight Show, where I would be more likely to stay awake for the whole show.

I was also concerned about who would be taking the reins of Late Night. For weeks I thought and I thought about who should take over that job, until I came to the perfect solution. The person who took over as host would have to be comfortable performing in front of a live audience, be able to think on his or her feet, and be able to work with a staff to write new material five days a week. So who better to do that than someone who was already doing that on another NBC show, one Saturday Night Live? After all, early in his career Conan was a writer for SNL. It made sense that Lorne Michaels would pick from that tree again to find a new host for Late Night.

My favorite segment on SNL has always been Weekend Update. It just made sense to me that one of the anchors of Weekend Update should become the new host of Late Night. Think about it: writing for Weekend Update is basically like writing a monologue for a late-night talk show. My decision was made. The person I selected to replace Conan was qualified. This person was intelligent, was able to improvise, and, most importantly, was really damn funny. The choice was clear.

Tina Fey would replace Conan O'Brien.

It was (and still might be) the best idea I had ever had in my entire life. It made perfect sense, and it would be groundbreaking - the first female host of a late-night talk show. You have to remember, too, that this was in the days before Barack Obama. It was 2003 - the 2004 Democratic National Convention, Obama's star-making moment, hadn't even happened yet. The idea of a woman taking over a high-profile hosting job formerly occupied by a man was, at the time, akin to the idea of an African-American becoming President of the United States. It was ahead of its time. But I was set on it. If anyone could do it, Tina Fey could do it. I was convinced that she would knock it out of the park. Tina Fey was change I could believe in.

I attempted to rally people to the cause. I told all of my friends about the idea, and they naturally agreed with me. I decided that the best way to ensure that this brilliant idea came to fruition would be to begin a grass-roots campaign. Just as Barack Obama's presidential campaign utilized the internet to raise funds, I would turn to the internet to garner support for my idea. And thus, Late Night with Tina Fey in 2009 was born. The petition was a sensation, earning itself 120 signatures. Surely that would be enough to convince the NBC bosses that Tina Fey was the right woman for this job.

Of course, a lot can happen in five years. How was I to know that Tina would leave SNL to create and star in her own show, the completely hilarious 30 Rock? But still, even after that happened, part of me hoped that the show would fail in time for Tina to embrace her true destiny: as the heir to the Late Night throne. As the show continued on and proved itself to be both wildly entertaining and moderately successful, I saw my idea slip away. It was sobering, but I accepted it. Conan would still be on The Tonight Show, and Tina was doing well on her own. I was sure that whoever they chose to host Late Night would be a fine selection.

That was when the rumors started. And then it was confirmed. Jimmy Fallon would be the new host of Late Night.

A little piece of me died when that was announced. Jimmy Fallon might be the most unfunny person on the planet. He has no on-camera charisma. He's not smart. He couldn't write his way out of a wet paper bag. This is who they chose? The guy who laughed in the middle of every sketch he was ever in?

Alas. Late Night with Tina Fey was not meant to be. Perhaps some day America will be ready for a female late-night talk show host. In the meantime, I look forward to tonight, when Late Night with Jimmy Fallon premieres. Maybe, if the world is lucky, a light will fall on Jimmy Fallon's head, knocking something loose in his brain, and he will suddenly become funny. The odds of that are unlikely, though. It's more likely that he'll crash and burn harder than anyone on television has ever crashed and burned. I think I'd enjoy seeing that, too.

Unemployment, Day 30: LOST

Last week Jennie and I watched the season premiere of LOST. Jennie has been watching the show from the beginning, while I had never seen an episode before in my life. Strangely, the two of us seemed to have about the same understanding of what was going on (though that was nice, because it made me feel smart, or something). Having watched three episodes of the series now, I can safely say a few things about it.

Thing #1: I love the crap out of it. I like it because it makes no sense at all, and because the few characters that I've met are interesting and entertaining. I'm eventually going to go back and watch the whole series, but for now I'm really enjoying being confused (though, based on conversations that I've had with other people who watch the show, even if I go back to the beginning, I'm still going to be confused).

Thing #2: Jennie likes it a lot, and I enjoy watching her reaction to it. She gasped no fewer than three times during the episode we watched last night. During the premiere last week, the utter confusion on both of our faces was very amusing. As enjoyable as the show is, watching it with someone that is invested in it and clearly enjoys it as much as Jennie does makes it even more entertaining.

Thing #3: I think Grant Morrison is secretly behind the whole series. A button you have to push every 108 minutes in order to save the world? An island that (spoiler alert!) moves through time at apparently random intervals? And that's just the stuff I've seen! The only other thing that I know about is the polar bear (A POLAR BEAR?!), but I don't know how or why it's on the island. Whatever the reason, though, only a mad genius, a practicing magician, a former hallucinogenic drug user, and the author of ANIMAL MAN could be behind this, and luckily we get all four of those things in Grant Morrison. I'm telling you now, if you watch LOST and you've never read anything by Grant Morrison, you should check him out.

So those are my thoughts on LOST. With more to come, I'm sure.

How PUSHING DAISIES will end

Before I begin, I'd like to point out that all of this is conjecture. This is actually a theory that I came up with months ago, and Jennie can attest to that because I shared it with her and I thought I was the smartest person ever but that it wouldn't happen for a long time, because clearly PUSHING DAISIES was destined to be on the air for years and years. Sigh. Anyway, after being a few episodes on the series, we finally got caught up, and I'm convinced now more than ever that my theory will come to pass. So here it goes...

HOW PUSHING DAISIES WILL END:
- Ned's father will return and reveal that he, too, can bring things back to life by touching them
- It will be revealed that Ned died once when he was very young (perhaps at birth) and that his father brought him back to life. He later abandoned Ned because he didn't want to risk touching him and killing him again
- Ned will touch Chuck again, killing her. Ned's father will then touch her, bringing her back to life. Ned's father will then die, sacrificing himself so that Ned and Chuck can be together
- Ned and Chuck will kiss; no one will die

Also, I'm sure there'll be some stuff with Emerson and Olive in there, too, but I'm more concerned with Ned and Chuck. Emerson needs to find his daughter, and Olive needs to get over Ned (perhaps with Emerson? What an odd couple that would be). But the main conflict of the series of course stems from the fact that Ned and Chuck cannot touch, and my little theory would take care of that.

So how do I support my theory? Before the most recent episodes, I couldn't. It was pure conjecture. But after the last episode that has aired, I think I'm on pretty solid ground. The facts are these:
- Ned's father has returned. He appeared at the end of the most recent episode, and appears to be watching over Ned, even going so far as to save his and Olive's lives
- Ned's father appeared to be covered from head to toe, save for his face (naturally). I have thought from the beginning of the show that Ned and Chuck could hold hands and/or not have to worry about bumping into each other constantly if Ned would just wear long-sleeved shirts, pants, and, above all, GLOVES. We saw in a recent episode Chuck's father (whom I will come back to) grab Ned by the sleeved arm with his bare hand, and he did not die, presumably because of Ned's sleeve. So why is the fact that Ned's father wore gloves important? Because if he hadn't been wearing gloves, and he had grabbed Ned to stop him from falling, Ned would have died. According to the theory, anyway.
- Ned's father abandoned Ned at the Longville School for Boys when he was very young, and we have never seen him, not even during scenes in which Ned's mother was alive. The debate between Ned and Chuck's father is that the only way to protect Chuck is to get her as far away from Ned as possible so that the chance of their accidentally touching becomes nonexistent. I think that looking at Ned's father's abandonment of him through the lens of a father trying to protect his child provides a perfect reason for Ned's father to have abandoned him in the first place: he wanted to minimize the chance of his ever accidentally touching Ned and killing him again.

Until the remaining episodes of the series air, we won't know for sure what happens. Supposedly there's going to be some sort of closure, but I doubt it will be the amount of closure that devoted fans (read: me) will want. In the mean time, I'm comfortable with my theory. Because yes, these are the things that I think about all of the time.

Brief thoughts on a TV show that I do not watch.

I don't watch Grey's Anatomy. I have never watched Grey's Anatomy. I will probably never watch Grey's Anatomy, unless something insane happens like Jason Schwartzman joins the cast or Aaron Sorkin starts writing for it or something. But let's face it, that is never going to happen, so I'm pretty sure it's safe to say that I will never watch Grey's Anatomy.

Jennie, however, watches it, and she tells me all sorts of interesting things about it. Like how one of the main characters is currently sleeping with the ghost of her dead lover. And how a group of interns decided that it would be fun to perform surgery on each other. And there are other ridiculous things (didn't someone have to have a poop transplant?) that I either can't remember or have just erased from my memory because they were taking up valuable space that I could otherwise devote to comic book or movie trivia.

All of this said, I find it interesting that so many people who are on the show don't like it. Katherine Heigl, for one, doesn't seem to enjoy it. Or at least, she didn't six months ago. And now T.R. Knight is quitting because apparently he doesn't like it, either. It's one thing for someone to say, 'I feel like it's time to move on' or 'I've had a good run on this show but I want to explore other opportunities,' but when two of the principal actors on the show, completely separately from each other, to say, 'Nah, y'know, I don't like what the writers are doing for me,' I think that really says something about the show. Or at least about the writers on the show. Also, if the people on the show don't like it, then that pretty much affirms that I will never watch Grey's Anatomy.