What with Lost having reached the end of season 2 in the UK a matter of days before season 3 starts in the States, it's a difficult time to be a Lost fan in the UK right now. On the one hand, it's finally safe to catch up with a folder full of links I've bookmarked over the last several months as various US fans wrote about the season 2 finale. Unfortunately, next week brings the start of season 3 in the States, so I'll have to avert my eyes from any Lost-related site for the next who knows how many months.

So, for one week only I get the chance to enjoy posts like the Lost-vivor: Preseason Recap:

Each Thursday, I'll recap the previous night's episode of Lost, awarding and deducting points from characters based on their actions during that episode. Let's say that Locke throws a knife and kills a boar. That's 8 points for Locke. Or Sawyer comes up with a clever new nickname for Hurley. Plus 3 for Sawyer. Jack goes on one of his crying jags? Minus 10. Get the picture?

I'll tally up the Lost-vivor scores as the season progresses, and at the end, we'll declare a Lost Season Three champion!

With the season premiere coming up next week, let's take a few moments to recap what was going on the last time we saw our favorite Lost-vivors. Please note that the section ahead contains Season Two spoilers. Proceed at your own risk.

[...]

Claire: Claire's special talents include sitting around the beach, being pregnant, speaking with an Australian accent, getting kidnapped, screaming, having a baby, freaking out about her baby's safety, and screaming some more. As noted above, she seems to have reconciled with Charlie (who also recently supplied Claire and baby Aaron with some vaccines of indeterminate origin). I also have a hunch that Claire will be revealed as Jack's half-sister this season.

[...]

Eko: Mr. Eko is the man. Ever since Man of Faith Locke turned into Self-Doubting, Navel-Gazing Locke, Eko has filled the gap nicely — speaking softly and carrying a big Jesus stick. When we last saw him at the end of Season Two, this drug-runner-turned-priest had abandonded work on building his island church to move to the Hatch and push the button. Eko was there with Locke and Desmond at the time of the discharge and was quite possibly killed. I suspect Eko will return for Season Three, however, and he currently stands as an early Lost-vivor favorite considering his physical abilities, his common sense, and the aforementioned Jesus stick. He can bring the pain with that thing, yo.

[...]

Me, I'm rooting for Simon Adebisi Mr Eko.

Presumably there's a strong family resemblance in the Coshever line:

Mark Coshever, a 29-year-old Essex man, flew from Luton to Amsterdam on his daughter's passport after picking it up by mistake. Despite two checks, it went unnoticed until he reached his destination. "I was shocked," he said. "Alicia is only just two, so there's quite a difference."

It's a pity the article didn't carry a photo of Coshever senior, so we could judge for ourselves just how baby-faced he is.

Bridge by Michael Cross sounds like a neat experience:

[Bridge...] is a series of steps that rise out of water as you walk across them, as if walking on water. On entering the exhibition the visitor is met by an empty expanse of water with one step at it's edge, stepping onto it pushes it down a little and this force raises the next. In this manner the visitor can walk out into the middle of the water with only ever one step in front of him and one behind.

Also a thoroughly immersive experience, should you put a foot wrong. (Though in truth there's no mention of how deep the water is; it's unclear whether a visitor with a poor sense of balance would end up ankle deep or in over their head.)

[Via spurgeonblog, via kottke.org remaindered links]

This TV ad does a lovely job of depicting a real-world version of Katamari Damacy. Don't try this at home…

[Via Qwghlm del.icio.us feed]

Apparently if Guillermo Del Toro wasn't keeping busy making fine films he'd be a one-man crime wave:

[On the proposition that Pan's Labyrinth "explores the director's dark and light view of humanity."]

Asked where the darkness comes from, Del Toro says "I am thinking about those things. Every time I go to a bank I'm looking around to see how many cameras they have and how could I rob it, or if I am at an ATM I'm looking how I would burglarise it. But obviously I socialise it through the movies and whenever I have this type of crazy idea, I end up putting a note in my diary and I use it in a movie later." Growing up in Mexico, Del Toro recalls the country's violence, "and one of the first things I saw, is that we were in a street fight once and I saw a guy hitting another guy with a bottle and one of the things that impressed me the most is the bottle never broke. Unlike in the movies this bottle just kept going and going and going and then I put that in the movie."

The rest of the interview is worth a read if you've enjoyed Del Toro's films, or if your interest has been piqued by the very positive advance word on Pan's Labyrinth. Though I'm slightly worried by this remark:

"My idea with Hellboy 2 is that it's almost a rephrasing. You don't re-enact the franchise you reinvent it. My favourite movies are like Evil Dead 2 which is basically reinventing Evil Dead 1, so I would hope Hellboy 2 could be taking what I learned from Hellboy 1 and reinventing it."

I'm not sure Hellboy needed reinventing; for my money the basic concept from the comic, as transferred to the big screen in 2004, is plenty strong enough. All they need to do is bring back as many of the core cast as possible (expect Agent Myers, who I gather won't be returning for the sequel) and spend somewhere between ninety minutes and two hours executing a suitably creepy storyline, unburdened by the need to give us Big Red's origin story this time round. Still, Del Toro has a pretty good track record so as long as he and Ron Perlman are on board I'm confident the results will worth the wait.

Somehow I failed to notice Channel 5's Guys and Dolls in the TV schedules until it was too late:

Documentary of the week: Guys and Dolls

Davecat from Michigan discussing his decision to fall in love with a £4,000 plastic doll called Sidore-Chan (Guys and Dolls, Monday 18 September, Five), whom he bought from a factory in California: "So currently I'm living with my parents. I think there's definitely a sense of disappointment for them. My father … well, he sees it as, y'know, 'unnatural'. I think the thing my father finds difficult about my relationship with Sidore-Chan is that she's, not, like, alive."

"As a result, Sidore-Chan spends 99% of her time in my room. It used to be like sex, sex, sex, sex … but now that's tapered off and we're just, like, there for each other."

Simon Hoggart on Tony Blair's farewell to Conference:

Then he broke off for a story about his sons, Nicky and Euan, who had been canvassing for Labour in a street where a man gave them a volley of abuse, "I hate that Tony Blair!" and so on. Then, when Euan said "that's my Dad", the man said he was very sorry and offered him a cup of tea. It was a heartwarming story, told to illustrate the essential decency of the British people, but it left me wondering why they even bother to canvass in Downing Street.

[Via LinkMachineGo]

From McSweeney's Internet Tendency:

The Recording Industry Association of America has enriched your life through music since you were a baby. But now you betray us? We will destroy you. This is your notice that you will be sued for one of the following:

1. Downloading a song from the Internet.

2. Singing the "Happy Birthday" song.

3. Other.

4. None of the above.

If you would prefer not to be stripped of your home and dignity, please send us $3,750 in the return envelope. If your toddler has been named in this lawsuit, explain to them that the fruits of their labor as an adult will go to pay a debt that will ultimately lead to their death at a young age due to their inability to afford medical insurance. Toddlers never understand that, but they'll get the point if you make them cry. If your household pet has been named in this lawsuit, it will be euthanized. If you are a 13-year-old girl, do not expect that the bad publicity in the past has made us hesitant to sue little girls — it has only made us hate you even more. If you, your household pet, or your toddler did not commit any of the acts above, then we will sue you and ruin your life forever for lying. Then we will sue you again, because it's not about the money anymore. It's about revenge. [...]

[Via Needcoffee.com]

At Izzle pfaff!, a paean to the sheer awesomeness of CSI: Miami:

Tonight was the season opener for this mind-eating show; I was giddy with anticipation. Last season had wrapped up with Caruso's character, a certain "Horatio Caine," marrying a subordinate's leukemia-afflicted sister, whose need for chemo-relieving pot made problems for said associate, but who then was shot to death (the sister) by a drug cartel member, who floridly promised Caine/Caruso, "I weel keel everywon you loave!" It's important to note that this threat was delivered alongside GREAT BIG DRAMATIC TEXT that appeared next to the actor giving the line. Why? Nobody knows.

There's much more and it's all good, unlike the show itself. I just can't bring myself to watch David Caruso these days. Was he this terrible in his NYPD Blue days and I just didn't see it, or did he just benefit from better scripts back then?

[Via Q Daily News]

Why Paris Hilton Is Famous:

I'm amused by Paris Hilton.

If Madonna was Marketing 1.0 then Paris Hilton is Marketing 2.0.

She's a real life version of what value is and how it is created today.

Every web developer should pay attention to her. [...]

Read the full story; at the very least, it's a novel thesis.

[Via Fimoculous]

Matthew Baldwin's son (aka The Squirrelly) is just over two years old and he's already on his first rebound relationship. With a stuffed-toy kitten, no less.

Things My Boyfriend Says:

e: I'd get a bunny if they weren't so stupid.
me: They're brilliant!
e: They chew extension cords!
me: So do you!
e: Yeah, but for me it's a religious obligation.
me: What religion is that?
e: I'm not allowed to tell outsiders.
me: How do you know I'm not a member?
e: Obviously, you'd be chewing extension cords.

You just can't argue with that sort of logic.

[Via GromBlog]

Name That Tune (In Reverse).

I got 8 out of 10. If you know the songs in question they're mostly pretty easy to spot: the two I missed were those I'd never heard before, i.e. the Nickelback and Rascal Flatts tracks – one utterly nondescript band, one I've never heard.

[Via Bifurcated Rivets]

The Last Knit.

[Via Viral Video Chart]

I had no idea a film adaptation of Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis was in the works. These stills look promising: the artwork sticks fairly closely to Satrapi's style, but it's hard to say how good a decision that was without seeing a moving image.

The subject matter – growing up in post-revolutionary Iran – is certainly both interesting and topical, so here's hoping the film lives up to the source material.

[Via Blog of a Bookslut]

A little bit of poetry: Neil Gaiman's The Day the Saucers Came.

[Via Slacktivist]

The Texas Roadhouse restaurant chain demonstrates how to turn a drama into a crisis:

In May 2006, Fairfax, VA Police Detective Vicki Armel and Master Police Officer Michael Garbarino became the departments' first two officers killed on duty. They were gunned down by an assault weapon-wielding madman who was subsequently shot by police. There was, of course, the expected shock and mourning by their fellow officers and citizens of the communities they served. Officer Garbarino lingered near death in the hospital for almost two weeks, resulting in two separate funeral processions and ceremonies.

However, there was another, much lesser, but still sickening shock to come the following month, behavior which reflects the very worst of corporate communications.

In mid-June, the department's False Alarm Reduction Unit received a letter from their local Texas Roadhouse restaurant, which is located just down from the station, appealing a number of false alarm fines. The restaurant had tripped numerous false alarms, apparently as a result of wiring issues and problems with their alarm company. All of these problems and accumulated fines occurred prior to the date of the police shootings. FYI, Texas Roadhouse (www.texasroadhouse.com) is a national chain that boasts about their "Legendary Food, Legendary Service(r)". What does this have to do with the shootings? Read on.

In asking for the a waiver of the fines, the unbelievably insensitive letter pointed out that the restaurant had lost over $5,000 in sales the night of the shooting and $4,000 in sales during each funeral procession in the two weeks that followed. Police sources found this very hard to believe, as the intersection by the restaurant was closed for only about an hour during each funeral procession, and in the middle of the afternoon, not during the lunch or dinner rush.

The letter went on to say that the restaurant had taken some food to the shooting incident command post and also noted that they give officers a discount when they eat in the restaurant (something many officers deny). The letter informed the department of the "major financial impact" the funeral events allegedly had on their store, asking for a re-examination of the false alarm fines based on those "facts."

One for the business school textbooks, I'd say.

[Via Urban Legends Reference Pages]

The career of Jeffrey Dreyer, M.D. has been shaped by his TV viewing:

There's a tradition in Western medicine as old as bacteria called "informed consent," wherein a patient has to certify that he or she's been warned of the risks of an upcoming procedure. Of course, since humans fixate on the worst-case scenario no matter how low the odds, doctors tend not to inform their patients as fully as possible. But if it was good enough for Hippocrates and Ed Begley Jr., I thought, then dammit, I could do it too.

"Now, I'll just need you to sign a form stating you understand the risks of the procedure."

Immediately the young woman's expression froze. Her muscles tensed.

"It's really not a big deal," I continued. "There's a chance of bruising from the injection of anesthesia, which should go down in a couple days. Of course, as with any procedure, there's a small chance of infection, but that almost never happens, and can be quickly treated with antibiotics if it does."

At which point Mrs. McClure's face thawed and her breath returned. She met my compassionate look and was soothed. Everything was going to be fine.

"There's one more thing," I said, "and this almost never, ever happens. Really. And that's where there is the tiniest chance, like one in a million, where the doctor will make the incision too low and we won't be able to get the foreskin to fuse with the shaft, such that we might—and really, this almost never ever happens—we might have to remove the penis and give your child hormone therapy, in which case you'd raise him as a girl."

The resultant shrieking was legendary. At times, I still hear it in my dreams. And somewhere in the world, there's a seven-year-old kid with a nickname he doesn't understand and a paralyzing fear of showering with the other kids after gym. He has only Ed Begley Jr. to blame.

Joe Queenan obviously enjoyed reviewing Joe Eszterhas' new book:

Mild-mannered screenwriter Joe Eszterhas, best known for his work on the art-house classics "Flashdance," "Basic Instinct," "Showgirls," "Jagged Edge," "Sliver," "Jade" and "F.I.S.T.," is the sort of foot-shuffling country bumpkin who arrives in Los Angeles from the hinterland one day with his head full of dreams, only to find out that beneath Tinseltown's wholesome surface swarms a nest of vipers. Worse, this "refugee street kid from the West Side of Cleveland" soon learns that producers and directors despise maverick, outsider, rebel, free-spirit, street kid wordsmiths like him, because screenwriters can write dialogue that sounds like it might be uttered by a welder who wants to be a ballerina ("Flashdance"), whereas producers and directors are "morons." What's more, screenwriters can write a mystery that hinges on a missing typewriter ("Jagged Edge"), then write a mystery hinging on a missing photograph ("Music Box"), and then write a mystery hinging on a missing ice pick ("Basic Instinct"), and have the gall to demand payment three times for the same idea.

[...]

Despite his diffident, Apollonian tone, Eszterhas is not above evening scores with those he dislikes, resents or envies. He mercilessly and repeatedly attacks Robert McKee, founder of a celebrated screenwriting school, because McKee has become famous without getting any major screenplays produced, and none about pantyless psychopaths. He mentions in passing that he once "bedded" Sharon Stone, whom he "created." He ridicules Steven Spielberg, Francis Ford Coppola, Marlon Brando, Humphrey Bogart and F. Scott Fitzgerald. Then he thumbs his nose at Robert Altman, James Cameron and Michael Moore, William Goldman and Orson Welles, who never created Sharon Stone, much less dallied with her. He also trashes Roger Ebert, Janet Maslin, Pauline Kael and Martin Scorsese, and reports that Raymond Chandler occasionally slept fully dressed in a pool of vomit, though he never explains why. Finally, he takes whacks at Mark Twain and William Shakespeare, and more power to him, say I. Frankly, it's high time somebody took a poke at those stuffed-shirt has-beens who wouldn't know Sharon Stone from Oliver Stone.

From The Economist, an honest in-flight announcement:

Your life-jacket can be found under your seat, but please do not remove it now. In fact, do not bother to look for it at all. In the event of a landing on water, an unprecedented miracle will have occurred, because in the history of aviation the number of wide-bodied aircraft that have made successful landings on water is zero. This aircraft is equipped with inflatable slides that detach to form life rafts, not that it makes any difference. Please remove high-heeled shoes before using the slides. We might as well add that space helmets and anti-gravity belts should also be removed, since even to mention the use of the slides as rafts is to enter the realm of science fiction.

[Via MemeMachineGo!]