Lost
Lost

Episode Report Card
Dan Kwa: B+ | 641 USERS: C+
YOU GRADE IT
Drivin' Your Green With My Three-Iron of Love

The State of Nature. Rousseau is prattling on about a music box she got from Robert, her "love," that once was a comfort to her but now has broken. Sayid says he could try to fix it if she freed his hands. "I'm very good with mechanical things," he adds hopefully. Instead, Rousseau pulls out a syringe and prepares to inject Sayid with some kind of drug. Right now, Charlie's feeling unexplained pangs of longing elsewhere on the island. Rousseau asks Sayid what is written on the back of Nadia's photograph, but she really does like the rhetorical questions, because this time she injects him before he even answers. It's a magical drug that makes its recipient view 30-second advertisements for Papa John's, Allstate, and Radio Shack. The drug was developed by a super-secret research branch of the FCC for use on TiVo users nationwide. Wow, that sucks. That joke was brought to you by all the keys on the keyboard with the exception of BACKSPACE.

Jack and Mercutio stand face to face, pretending like something critical and scary is going on; regular viewers of David Fury Angel episodes have scenes like this coded in their DNA, and are fully aware that the two are just musing over a golf shot. Nevertheless, this is a cute bit. Anyways, everyone seems to be having a grand old time, including Charlie and Hurley, who stand far away on the green, gyrating madly in an attempt to distract Jack. (Charlie's also singing Driveshaft's #124 smash, "Drivin' Your Green With My Three-Iron of Love." What's really distracting, though, is when someone talks during your backswing, which is exactly what happens now, as Rashhole shouts for Jack just before he hits the ball. Man, if Tiger Woods's caddy Steve Williams was there right now, he'd cut that guy a brand new rashhole. Anyways, Rashhole's come to impart more great news about his hives, but stops short when he sees Jack's playing golf. "You're playing golf?" he asks. Man, David Fury can write some rhetorical fucking questions. "Can I play?" he eagerly says.

Lost

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