I find Jack a very frustrating character, all in all. I identify with him far more than I suppose I should, especially given what a twerp he is most of the time. I don't know why, in spite of the mounting number of times he's a complete numbskull, I still think of him as my representative voice on the island, the guy who I most would like to a) bone Kate, b) get tattoos about leadership, and c) lead the Losties bearing torches to the rim of a volcano to do battle with a dragon. Or whatever. All the girls are swooning over Sawyer and the Sawyerly things he does and all I would cut off my left second-from-the-outside toe (let's be realistic about this, it's just a TV show) for ten minutes of his upper arms, or to somehow harness the ability to keep my stubble at the exact length he keeps it. Like any great icon I want to be him as much as I want to fuck him; I'm just amazed at the degree to which common sense gets utterly bypassed in my idolatry. Did one damn thing Jack did tonight make a single lick of sense? It all seemed to come together in the tail end with some sort of great groundswell of meaning, but it was meaning utterly divorced from any of the decisions and moments in the preceding 57 minutes. Or was it? Has Lost finally slipped around me and constructed a narrative that moves in two directions at once, hiding the trick by flashing the gimmick, giving its own porny m.o. a moment's uncertainty on the shores of sandy Phuket? "That's what it says, not what it means"? God fucking help me I need better role models, or clearer writers.