Well, that happened. I guess this whole post might be a spoiler. We really can't have nice things anymore, can we? Not to say that I didn't call it, or that film-student-me didn't enjoy the execution of the scene, so to speak. You can even look back at this blog for evidence thereof. But still, LOST, ye are a cruel, cruel mistress. I mean, I can predict the bloodbath on the end of these kinds of shows with great joy and abandon (and accuracy), and usually, you know, I tend to favor the Shakespearean resolution. But when you get down to it and you trot out Michael Giachinno's Deathly Dying Death Scene music, it does get to me. The end of the Pacific was bad enough to start the week off, ya'll, and HIMYM ended on a low note, too. God, I hope Glee is just a fabulous rainbow parade of puppies and ponies in pink polka-dot bows to make up for the epic sad that was the last ten minutes of this episode.
I have my Scottish roundup mostly-finished, and I'll post it sometime tomorrow (today, I guess) after tea. And maybe a rewatch of Jim and Pam's wedding, just to remind myself that some television relationships don't involve explosives. Yet.
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