Don’t Cry For Me, I’m Already Dead.

You’ll be happy to know that I’m currently in pre-production of the very first CDP book.

I’ll be working on it until further notice. There are almost 600 posts in the archives to tide you over in the meantime. I’ll try to keep you updated as much as possible, however.

Sound off in the comments section or send e-mails to communistdance@yahoo.com.

Thank you so much for your support. This has been many years in the making.

-theCDP.

(EDIT 05/29 – Here’s a link to the Top 30 CDP Posts Of All Time, to whet your appetite while I’m incommunicado. The countdown starts after the Lost Season 3 Preview.)

(EDIT 05/29 – My Mom canceled BBQ plans and Chuck Lidell got knocked out at UFC 71, so I spent the rest of Memorial Day weekend drinking heavily and spending hundreds of dollars on clothes and entertainment. It did the trick. Pre-production on the book is coming along nicely.)

(EDIT 05/30 – I’ll be in the Live Video Chat room at 9pm Central time (10 Eastern) to talk about the book, along with anything else that’s on my mind. Please stop in and say hello by clicking on the Live Video Chat link on the right.)

(EDIT 05/30 – Thanks to the handful of folks that came out for the Live Video Chat; I always appreciate getting to talk with you. As this whole book thing goes further, I want to maybe get together like that once every week or so. JT? Kenny? I’m wagging my finger, yo!)

(EDIT 05/31 – Pre-production continues. I’ve managed to take over 1600 pages(!) of CDP material and sift it down to about 500 over the course of this week. I also want to mention that prior CDP essays will probably account for no more than 50-60% of the finished book. I’m in the process of writing about a dozen book-only essays to grace the pages; essays that I’ve been kicking around and saving for years and consider to be my best work. I’m hoping that by the end of next week, I’ll cut those 500 pages in half again and really get down to fine tuning. It’s been productive; I’m taking the weekend off.)

(EDIT 06/01 – Thanks to over-consumption of Wii Sports, Mario Party 8 and WarioWare, my left rotator cuff is pretty jacked up today. I’m not used to playing a video game that I need to stretch out for in advance, so there’s a good chance I’ll be reeking of Icy Hot all weekend. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them that I hurt myself punching out Trick Daddy at a nightclub.)

(EDIT 06/04 – I’m getting a lot of work done.)

(EDIT 06/04 – Over the course of 3 revisions, I’ve gone from 1580 pages of material, to 416 pages, to 343 pages. One more good revision and I’ll begin the meat of the production process; editing, polishing, re-writing and formatting all of the best ‘classic’ CDP material. Depending on how vast the final revisions become, I’ll see how many ‘new’ essays I plan on putting into this first book. I want this to be a really good 300 pages of material, so it’s becoming apparent that I won’t have much room for new stuff this time around; I’ll save that for Book #2. The goal is to create a book of CDP essays that stands completely alone from the site itself. The day-to-day quoting, in-jokes and hundreds of throwaway posts are being mercilessly scrapped in favor of the sprawling and timeless essays that tend to pop up every month or so. I need to make this book enjoyable for the 5,999,999,800 people on the planet that are unaware that I even keep a blog. The edits continue. Dream about me, won’t you?)

(EDIT 06/05 – Heath Ledger is the new Joker in the next Batman movie, and boy does he look terrifying. Seriously, if you still don’t recognize Christopher Nolan as one of the best filmmakers in the world by now, you’ve got to do something about that. With films like Following, Memento, Insomnia, Batman Begins and an upcoming film re-make of The Freaking Prisoner, man… I just don’t know why other directors bother to exist. I’m re-watching Batman Begins this week, and you might want to do the same. Edits rage on, hearts continue to be broken.)

(EDIT 06/06 – Enjoy one of the funniest prank calls ever. I am in my final stage of pre-production, which only means more headaches and revisions heading into the next phase. Things are going quicker now, so it can’t be all bad. I haven’t worked out in weeks, and I ate at Burger King last night. What will be left of me when this is all over?)

(EDIT 06/06 – Here are my 20 favorite TV shows for the 06-07 Season:)

20. Cops (FOX) – I have a thing for shirtless people.
19. Friday Night Smackdown! (WB) – I have a thing for shirtless people.
18. King Of The Hill (FOX) – Still funny after 12 years. Kind of.
17. Heroes (NBC) – Like Lost, only for dumb people.
16. Rob & Big (MTV) – The only reason to ever watch MTV.

15. The Ultimate Fighter (SPIKE) – I have a thing for shirtless people.
14. Dirty Jobs (DISC) – Watch and appreciate your job a little more.
13. Mythbusters (DISC) – Watch and appreciate your job a little less.
12. Ghost Hunters (SCI) – Watch and appreciate pooping your pants.
11. Saturday Night Live (NBC) – Always the best thing on at midnight.

10. House M.D. (FOX) – Hugh Laurie pwnz all you n00bz.
9. American Idol (FOX) – Melinda Doolittle pwnz me.
8. Monday Night Raw! (USA) – I have a thing for shirtless people.
7. My Name Is Earl (NBC) – It gets darker and dirtier each week.
6. The Simpsons (FOX) – Season 19? Respek, y’all!

5. 30 Rock (NBC) – Tina Fey is my secret Girlfriend Wife.
4. Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip (NBC) – RIP, overwritten dramedy.
3. The Office (NBC) – The funniest show on television. Ever.

2. Friday Night Lights (NBC) – Without question, this is the best TV drama I’ve seen since the premiere of Lost. The acting, production, storylines and mood are second-to-none and really need to be seen to be believed. Regardless of how you feel about the feature film or football in general, the characters, believability and human emotion on this show is seriously incredible. Already heavily nominated and universally adored by critics, the first season of Friday Night Lights is an absolute gift from the TV Gods. Even the Missus loves it!

1. Lost (ABC) – I’ve heard good things. I’ll check it out at some point.

(EDIT 06/07 – The trailer for Sicko.)

(EDIT 06/08 – This is Rough Draft #1. A lean 260 pages of CDP goodness. I took today off, and I’ll start digging into it come Monday. Don’t forget to watch Brian Regan’s new Comedy Central special tonight, yo.)

Lost Friday – "Through The Looking Glass."

Season 3 – Episode 22/23: “Through The Looking Glass.”

The final Lost Friday of 2007 is upon us. We have much to dis–

You know what? Let’s change things up a little, ‘eh? Go hog-freaking-wild, you know? I mean, it’s the last recap of the year, why not try something different, right? Hold onto your caps and glasses, kids, because I’m about to go off the rails.

(Ahem.)

The final Lost Friday of 2007 is upon us. Hold onto your caps and glasses.

Wow…that felt good. It’s nice to get crazy every now and again, but let’s put our pants back on and get down to serious business.

(HarP00WN3D!!!1)

I tried to warn you turds; I really did. I tried to explain to everyone that this season would boast an ending more pants-wettingly crazy than anything we’ve seen on Lost so far. I told people that it would be mind-blowing, and I begged folks to watch the episode with an open mind and accept the fate that the writers and producers have given to the storyline and plot development. They haven’t steered us wrong yet, why would they do it now? I desperately pleaded this case with readers, preparing them for what was about to unfold. The game was about to seriously change, and I wanted folks to merely think it over before they stormed out of their collective living rooms in a huff, exclaimed that Lost had jumped the shark for the fourteenth damn time and fell asleep in the crawl space with their cat.

(Upon seeing who won the 2004 Election, Jack decides to end it as quickly as possible.)

So, what happened? Well, just like the other two Lost season finales, there is confusion, frustration and the assured confidence that the writers have utterly destroyed the great wonder that they have created. Without question, the folks at ABC have no idea what they’re doing anymore.

To that, I say “Have you people lost your Goddamn minds? Have you?“

This finale was tremendous. It had more action than Season 2, more mysteries and questions than Season 1, and offered an entirely new dimension with which the story will be told in Season 4. Even though I was fully spoiled going into the episode, it still exceeded my expectations and left me shaking when it was all over. Face it, Lost brought the pain on Wednesday night, and you kids simply have no clue how to handle the idea of a television show handing you your own ass.

Well buck up, because it’s time for the Thick & Meaty.

AT THAT ONE PLACE WHERE THOSE OTHERS LIVE ON THE ISLAND:

Ben’s world is starting to crumble around him. His lies are catching up with him; his followers are starting to catch onto his false plans and realize that he’s not being entirely honest with them. A mutiny is on the horizon, yet Ben scrapes and claws to maintain control, looking pathetic and weak in the process. Now he knows how George W. Bush must feel most nights.

Dear sweet Lord above me in Heaven, hear me clearly when I say that I hate that man.

Richard is pissed, Alex is pissed and Mikhail is double pissed with a single eye. Ben sends out Patchie to take care of Charlie in the Looking Glass, and heads off with Alex to cut Jack and the castaways off at the radio tower. Once there, he’s going to give Alex up to the castaways, as he’s sick of her blasting Fall Out Boy at full volume all hours of the night while dry-humping Karl.

Was that too much? I can’t even tell anymore.

<img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v295/Hathery/0322BenFruity.jpg" alt="
(“Tah-DAH!”)

AT THAT ONE BEACH WHERE THOSE PLANE CRASH PEOPLE IS:

Ten of the Others show up and start their fetus-snatching heist, but seven are instantly (and awesomely) killed when Sayid and Bernard detonate the dynamite (with some additional gunplay by Jin). Eventually, the three castaways are taken prisoner and Bernarc sings like a Stool Pigeon getting raped by 20 Latino guys with teardrop tattoos on their cheeks.

Bernarc. Let it sink in, kids.

While the three Others are holding the three Castaways, Sawyer and Juliet sneak up just in time to see Hurley obliterate one of the Others with the Dharma van. After that distraction, Sayid goes all ‘crazed Iraqi torturer’ on a dude and breaks his neck with his legs. Tom surrenders, but Sawyer caps him anyway, as he long promised swift justice for his kidnapping of Waaaaaalt.

That’s cold. Clearly, Sawyer has gotten over his fear of murdering people. Again.

(“I only want onions on half, and God help you if there’s any sausage on it.”)

IN THAT ONE DHARMA GRAVE WITH ALL THE CORPSES WHERE LOCKE IS:

Locke, while attempting to hold his small intestine in, spots a gun on one of the Dharma corpses. Just as he’s about to commit suicide, Waaaaaallllt shows up and tells him that he might want to consider getting out of the hole and leaving, instead. It makes sense, so Locke complies.

Waaaaaallllt then slam dunks a basketball, because he’s 19 years old and 8 feet tall.

(“You all, gingivitis!”)

IN THAT ONE UNDERWATER HATCH WITH THE LADIES, THE EYE PATCH GUY, THE BEARD GUY AND THAT HEROIN BASS-PLAYER GUY:

Charlie is acting like a top-notch dick in the Looking Glass, knowing full well that he has a temporary lease on life and probably won’t make it out a free man. As you would assume, he gets the crap beaten out of him for his troubles. On the surface of the water, Desmond wakes up, puts his jaw back together and dodges a few bullets from Mikhail on the shore. He dives into the hatch and surfaces just in time to almost get shot again. You’d think he would have seen that coming, Mister Flashy McFutureflash.

The two ladies are confused, as they are starting to think that Ben’s sort of a liar that wants everyone to stay on the island to fulfill his Utopian society of walkie-talkies and not bathing. Mikhail shows up and starts shooting, killing Greta and wounding that other girl…Bonnie something or other. Then, just for the hell of it, Desmond nails Mikhail with the spear gun. Mikhail, however, is immortal, so he just pulls it out and makes himself a sandwich in the Mess Hall.

<img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v295/Hathery/0322ClaireBitch.jpg" alt="
(“Have you seen my BAAAAY-BEEEEE?!?!”)

Eventually, Charlie figures out the code to un-jam the communication system, and instantly receives a transmission from Penny. She tells him that Naomi and her team do not work for her, just as Mikhail appears outside of the porthole and detonates a grenade. Knowing his fate, Charlie saves Desmond by sealing the door and sinking into the abyss. However, he informs Desmond that Naomi is up to no good before he goes out in what has to be the best death in Lost history. Maybe even a little too good for a wanker like Charlie.

Desmond leaves, with his knowledge that Penny is still looking for him and that Naomi is not on the Good Team, which leads us to our Question Of The Week:

If you were seconds from death, what message would you Sharpie onto your palm?

A) Don’t sell my figurines.
B) CLAPTON RULEZ!
C) (indecipherable)
D) Wow, it really IS waterproof!
E) Help me, idiot.

Of course, the answer is “Tell my family that I love them, make sure my cats are fed and tell my student loan officers to stick their 10% interest straight up their asses, cuz I ain’t payin anymore’.” Let’s move on.

(“Crap, down to my last Smartie.”)

AT THAT ONE RADIO TOWER WHERE THAT MESSAGE HAD BEEN PLAYING FOR 16 YEARS BY THAT FRENCH WOMAN THAT’S THERE ON THE ISLAND WITH THE CASTAWAYS AND HER DAUGHTER THAT WAS TAKEN FROM HER:

As Jack is leading the castaways to the radio tower, they only hear 2 of the 3 explosions and start to get all whiny about husbands being dead or some pointless crap. Juliet and Sawyer head back to see what’s up, and Hurley looks for his van, as he left a steak inside of it.

And with that, I’ve officially made my last ‘Hurley is fat’ joke of the year. It was a struggle, but I pulled it off, and I couldn’t have done it without you guys. Thanks.

Ben cuts the castaways off and asks to speak with Jack for a few minutes. He claims that Naomi is not who she claims to be, and that by calling her boat for help, the island will be eradicated. Jack says ‘screw that static’ and dismisses him. Ben pretends to have Tom kill the three prisoners, so Jack proceeds to give him a good ole’-fashioned ass whipping. It was great; I watched it twice.

(This is what happens when you accidentally spoil someone on The Coconut Internet.)

Rousseau and Alex meet up and share a bonding moment in tying Ben to a tree and taking turns whaling on him.

At the tower, Hurley contacts Jack and lets him know about what all went down on the beach. People are understandably pleased. Naomi is about to get a signal on her phone when Locke shows up and heaves a knife into her back, killing her pretty much instantly. Locke warns Jack not to make the rescue call, but Jack does so anyway and reaches a man supposedly on Naomi’s rescue boat. Everyone cheers when they find out that help is on the way, but we all know it’s just going to be another wave of jerks that want to kill these nice people with checkered pasts.

Lost!

(“Could you kindly restart my heart?”)

IN JACK’S FLASHBACKS THAT ARE REALLY FLASH-FORWARDS BUT YOU DON’T FIND THAT OUT UNTIL THE VERY END OF THE SHOW BECAUSE THEY WANTED TO SURPRISE YOU WITH IT:

Jack is all messed up on the pills and booze. He’s pretty much looking just like his dad, only he’s sporting one of the more amazing beards I’ve seen on TV in awhile. Far too cool to be sported by Matthew Fox, at least. Not only that, but he’s rocking Aviator Shades! And a denim jacket! While listening to Nirvana!

Damn, maybe Jack and I could be friends, provided he stay a depressed addict. He’s far more hip this way.

Upon reading the obituary of an unknown person, Jack contemplates suicide, only to witness a car crash and work his hero magic on them. Later on at the hospital, he has a depressing run-in with his ex-wife, who is very pregnant and doesn’t want anything to do with him. Boy, I’ve been there, dude. If I had a nickel for every pregnant ex-wife I’ve ran into at the hospital, I’d be eating nickel soup with a spoon made of nickels.

(1,500 different diseases just passed from Juliet to Jack. Hope it was worth it!)

As Jack continues to spiral out of control at work and elsewhere, he continues to try to get a hold of someone. Presumably, a hotline for guys that cry way too much for no reason. He shows up to the funeral of the mysterious person, and finds out that he was the only one that arrived. He pays his respects and heads back out, stealing all the flower arrangements in the process.

An especially depressing scene takes place in a pharmacy, when Jack is unable to get his prescription filled. He is recognized as a hero as he freaks out and falls over a rack of sunglasses. Seriously, this flash-forward is on par with John Locke and the Chicago Cubs for being about the saddest thing I can possibly handle.

(Rated TV-14 for Graphic Socket Action.)

During the last 5 minutes, things start to come into focus as we see Jack in his apartment, surrounded by various maps and atlases (atli?). He finally gets a hold of the mysterious woman on the phone, who turns out to be Kate. Jack confesses to her that he’s been flying across the Pacific a whole lot in the hopes of crashing back on the island again. He tells her that he’s “sick of lying” and needs to go back to the island to presumably make things right. Kate leaves and Jack continues his breakdown in the airport parking lot, shouting “We have to go back!.“

Smash cut; season over. I’m shattered and need a drink.

If Matthew Fox ever had an inkling of a chance to win a best actor Emmy, this episode would do it for him. It was, without question, his best television acting to date, even amongst an amazing cast of ringers that should be bringing Emmys home in wheelbarrows. Good on you, dude, that was awesome.

Hey…speaking of awesome…

Today’s topic is the 5 Awesome Things… Season Finale Award Show!

1) Best Ass Whipping Award – Sawyer kills Anthony Cooper (“The Brig“).

Not even a roundhouse kick could keep this from winning the award. Sayid killed a dude with his feet, Kate and Juliet rolled around in the mud and Jack gave Ben a 30-second bloodletting, but nothing had as much depth or emotion than when Sawyer took out the douchebag that led to the death of his parents.

2) Best Nudity Award – Desmond emerges (“Further Instructions”).

Kate and Sawyer may have had a hot and sweaty sex scene, and even Sun rolled in the hay with that Asian cue-ball, but Desmond emerging from the imploded hatch sans-pants was unexpected, unnecessary and absolutely hilarious. Add that to his wearing of Hurley’s oversized t-shirt for the rest of the episode, and you have television gold.

(Man, they must have spackled the Vaseline onto the lens with a trowel.)

3) Lifetime Bad-Ass Award – Mr. Eko (Various Episodes).

Sure, he may have died 5 episodes into the season after the Smoke Monster bashed him to pieces against a tree, but did you expect anything less from Mr. Eko? Do you remember when Sawyer and Michael washed up on the shoreline of the Tail Section folk, and Eko burst out of the jungles with that big-ass stick of his? Was it or was it not the scariest thing ever on the show? Godspeed, Mr. Eko. We still miss the way you’d kill people with rocks and stuff.

4) Insanely Beautiful Award – Achara (“Stranger In A Strange Land“).

Don’t even try to argue with me on this one. Achara was so insanely beautiful that it hurt.

5) Straight Blowin’ S#%t Up Award – John Locke (Various Episodes).

He’s been directly responsible for the destruction of two hatches (and he blew up the Swan hatch twice), one radio transmitter, Jacob’s shack and a freaking submarine. I’m so used to seeing things explode behind him that I think he might actually work for WWE.

Okay, enough breaking things down….let’s Break It Down!

4– It’s crazy to think that this episode was 2 hours long, and Locke was on camera for probably 3 minutes, tops. That’s like the Red Sox benching David Ortiz in Game 7! That’s like the Colts having Peyton Manning clean the locker rooms during the Super Bowl! That’s like taking the best player on your professional sports team, and making them do something else when they could be positively attributing to what’s taking place on his or her respective fields!

Heh-heh…just cracked myself up, there.

8– In the flash-forwards, Jack was using a Motorola KRZR, which wasn’t released until the end of 2006. Not only is this a clue as to when the flash-forward took place, but it solidifies the fact that Jack is a jerk. Also, the name of the funeral home was “Hoffs/Drawlar“, which is an anagram for “flash-forward.“

I’m glad it meant something, because those were two stupid-sounding names, right there.

<img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v295/Hathery/0322WaltPerch.jpg" alt="
(WAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLT!)

15– No, I don’t know who was in the damn casket. At first, I thought it was Sawyer, but now I believe that Sawyer is on the run with Kate in the present-day. Beats me; I don’t know, stop asking. People have tried to decipher what little scraps of the obituary showed up on camera, but we really have no idea what it said. Keep fighting the good fight, Internet Nerds!

16– With this new direction in storytelling, there comes another wave of questions that just can’t be answered right now. Instead of filling in the gaps that led the castaways onto Oceanic 815, we’re now going to be seeing what has happened to get them off of the island and into the present-day. Some folks insist that the ending has been ruined because we know that Jack and Kate are rescued from the island; I say bull rip. Leaving the island has nothing to do with the end of the show.

Bull rip, I say!

(Meet Sayid: The Scariest Man In The World.)

23– Was it just me, or were there 45 minutes of commercials this week? I couldn’t believe it; every 10 minutes, another 4 minutes of commercials. There’s simply not supposed to be that many commercials during a standard two-hour broadcast, check the manual.

42– For the record, I didn’t get emotional over Charlie’s death, I didn’t think for a second that Jin, Bernard and Sayid had been killed, and I didn’t bat an eyelash when Jack told Kate that he loved her.

But when Jack knocked over that sunglasses display…man, I wanted to bawl for days. I still want to, actually.

Sit back, wipe the crust out of your eyes and prepare for The Preview!

X– The Season 4 Premiere isn’t until February. Let’s hold off on discussion until at least the holiday season, mmkay?

Well folks, there you have it. The last Lost Friday of the year. I want to thank everyone who has stopped by every week, sent e-mails and commented here at the CDP. For those of you who just stop by on Fridays, please know that Lost Friday is just a small fraction of the crap I throw against the wall here. Stick around during the Summer and check the archives for anything and everything you might have missed. Again, thank you. Now please buy a t-shirt.

(“Wow, we can get porn on this thing!”)

Sound off in the comments section, send all erotic photography to communistdance@yahoo.com and check out The Coconut Internet when you’re all finished. Below are links to every Lost Friday for Season 3; enjoy them at your leisure.

Thanks. Bye.

-theCDP.

Season 3 Preview
Season 3 – Episode 1 Review
Season 3 – Episode 2 Review
Season 3 – Episode 3 Review
Season 3 – Episode 4 Review
Season 3 – Episode 5 Review
Season 3 – Episode 6 Review
Season 3 – Episode 7 Review
Season 3 – Episode 8 Review
Season 3 – Episode 9 Review
Season 3 – Episode 10 Review
Season 3 – Episode 11 Review
Season 3 – Episode 12 Review
Season 3 – Episode 13 Review
Season 3 – Episode 14 Review
Season 3 – Episode 15 Review
Season 3 – Episode 16 Review
Season 3 – Episode 17 Review
Season 3 – Episode 18 Review
Season 3 – Episode 19 Review
Season 3 – Episode 20 Review
Season 3 – Episode 21 Review
Season 3 Finale – Lost Monday
Season 3 Finale – Lost Tuesday
Season 3 Finale – Lost Wednesday

CDP Wayback Machine – Sunburn Edition.

‘Give Me Some Skin.’ – Originally Published June 27, 2006.

To me, the start of Summer only means one thing: 90 straight days of mind-blowing sunburns.

As an embarrassingly pale man, getting a sunburn is about as easy as beating Peter Doherty in a ‘don’t smoke crack’ contest. I needn’t be outside for more than a picosecond to instantly transform my baby-smooth exterior into a mass of pink, stingy nerve endings. From June 3 right up until September 10, I’m rendered freakish and unpleasant in the eyes of friends and neighbors. Invitations to parties cease and desist. Nobody wants to see Ole’ Creepy McBurnyface singing karaoke; it tends to bring down a room.

The term ‘tan’ is not in my vocabulary. This term means nothing to me; sort of like ‘zork’ and ‘restraining order.’ Unless I liberally lubricate my pores with SPF-Nuclear Holocaust lotion, I’m going to be screwed in the second-worst way possible.

A few years ago, me and the Missus went to an outdoor concert. I asked her to put lotion on my face, making sure she knew just how susceptible I was to UV rays. She did not heed this warning seriously, and carelessly streaked a few drops of Coppertone across my melon. When the show was over, it looked as if I was attempting to highlight certain parts of my forehead that were more important than the others. There were blisters, scars and shame for the next 3 weeks.

And now, an awful story from my childhood.

In the late 80’s to early 90’s, I helped out on my family’s dairy farm during the summer. One weekend in particular left me with the Queen Mother of all sunburns on my legs. I had been wearing shorts, and the result left me looking like I was wearing a permanent pair of red socks. From the knees to the ankles, I was charred beyond recognition.

I took care of my crimson legs for days on end, gently soaking and aloe-izing them before I went to bed each night. Even at such a young age, I was an expert at the art of third-degree burn treatment. I had experienced many a sunburn by that point in my life, but I knew that this one was different- even special, somehow. I didn’t realize why I felt that way until the big day finally came.

I woke up on a humid Sunday morning and swung my wok-fried stumps over the edge of the bed. That’s when I noticed the beginnings of a peel on each of my calves. Wide-eyed, with a skilled and steady hand, I proceeded to peel off my skin like an honest-to-goodness sock, producing two snake-like sheddings, each about a foot long. It took me about a half-hour to expertly navigate, and they were absolutely beautiful. I held these giant hunks of flesh up for inspection, and everything suddenly became well worth the wait.

I couldn’t let these go to waste. I had to do something with them. But what?

My attention focused to the small, black-and-white television I had in my room. The reception from this TV was horrible, and no matter which way I manipulated the rabbit ears, I got nothing but static and white noise. However, I did notice that the picture came in much better as long as I kept my hands on the antennas.

Scientifically speaking, I now know that the reason for this is because we humans give off a certain amount of electricity, which acts as kind of a booster for the TV antenna. As a child, all I knew was that I couldn’t hold onto the antenna and watch the tube at the same time. Perhaps I could fake the TV out somehow, by making it think I was still holding onto the rabbit ears.

I think you know where I’m going with this.

Imagine the look on my Mom’s face when she walked into my room, only to see me watching a television with two giant balls of human skin affixed to the antennas.

TOMORROW:
LOST FRIDAY.

Lost Wednesday – Preshow Edition.

Depending on when you’re reading this, the Lost finale is anywhere from 20 hours away to over and done with millions of years ago.

Is the latter is true of you, I say hello, future society! I’m sorry for all the bad stuff we did to the planet during the first 2000 years. Is Abe Vigoda still alive? He IS?!

I’ve got two things for you today; a Season Finale Drinking Game, and an exclusive, behind-the-scenes look at what all goes into a CDP Lost Friday. They’re both very exciting and ego-driven, which is what always seems to make me a happy guy. And away we go.

If Walt shows up…TAKE A DRINK!

If Michael shows up…TAKE A DRINK!

If Arzt shows up…CHUG!

Every time Desmond says ‘brother’…TAKE A DRINK!

Every time Desmond’s beard says ‘brother’…CHUG!

Every time Jack looks discouraged and smarky…TAKE A DRINK!

Every time Kate says ‘I’m going with!’…TAKE A DRINK!

If Charlie lives…TAKE A DRINK!

When Charlie dies…CHUG!

Every time an Other gets killed…TAKE A DRINK!

Every time something blows up…TAKE A DRINK!

Every time Locke blows something up…CHUG!

If Jack starts crying again…TAKE A DRINK!

Every time a gun is fired…TAKE A DRINK!

Every time Jim Halpert looks directly into the camera…CHUG!

Well, that’ll get you hammered. Maybe even a little dead if you play your cards just right. Happy swilling!

The Lost Friday writing process begins shortly after Lost ends on Wednesday night. I used to be a nerd and actually take notes during the episode, but it started to feel like a job, and it also got in the way of my weekly beer-swilling ritual. For those who haven’t yet heard the story, I have approximately 20 bottles of New Glarus Barley Wine (my favorite beer) left in my basement, thought by many to be the last bottles in existence after a distribution issue forced the shutdown of production. Because of this, I only drink a bottle of said Barley Wine when there is a new episode of Lost on (I don’t share). When I run out, I’ll probably stop watching the show.

Anyway, when the episode’s over, I stumble into the office and take very brief notes before I go to bed. I essentially jot down things I want to remember, little tidbits I’ve noticed or humorous things that came to me during the course of the night. I would normally forget these things come morning, so I take notes as to not set myself up with a completely blank slate on Thursday.

On Thursday, I do about 90% of the writing during the day (read:at work). I set up a basic outline and fill in the gaps throughout the morning and afternoon. At this point in the evolution of Lost Friday, my format is pretty much exactly the way I want it (Opening Rant-Thick & Meaty-Question Of The Week-5 Awesome Things-Break It Down-Preview-Outro), so I rarely stray unless I feel like writing a bunch of haikus. I never write Lost Friday in sequential order; for example, if I get an idea for 5 Awesome Things, I’ll do it right away. Most of the time, however, I just come up with one joke at a time and plug it in where necessary.

For The Thick & Meaty, I like to consult mainstay pages like Lostpedia and The Fuselage for basic information about the plotline and movement of the episode. That way, I have a firm idea of exactly how the show played out, so I can blur the lines and take my brilliant and Patent-Pending satire wherever I want it to go, all while staying within the realistic confines of what the episode actually brought. If you didn’t see Wednesday’s episode, chances are you’re not going to get 80% of the jokes. Nor should you.

I do my best to get the majority of the writing done before I come home from the Acid Mines. When I get back home at around 4pm, I look over everything I’ve written and do another edit. Adding jokes, changing around the wording of clinkers, getting rid of things that ruin the flow of the post. At this point, I also start doing my formatting and getting everything in its right place. Sure, you might not notice that the font and labels for everything are uniform every week, but you know that I do.

At this point, I have all of my writing done and looking pretty much the way it will look when it gets published. There are still no images, captions, links or logos, however. This is where the Missus comes in and gives it a good read-through. She’s very skilled with grammar and is nice enough to let me know when something sounds stupid, regardless of how funny I think it is. She’s a good second pair of eyes, and does what she can to make sure I don’t look as stupid as I’m capable of looking, which is a whole hell of a lot.

I just peed in my pantaloons.

Once I get the thumbs-up from the Missus (usually at around 6pm on Thursday), I set Lost Friday down and leave it alone. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over my years of writing music, screenplays and speeches, it’s to just let something go for awhile and come back to it later on with fresh eyes. Me and the Missus enjoy our Thursday night; usually smoking cigars hand rolled by Jesus and sipping on wine squeezed from unicorns. Typical fare.

The next time I see Lost Friday, it’s about 10pm on Thursday night. I go over everything one last time, making last-second changes to any text I think is worthless. I paste in my standard Lost Friday logos (Break It Down/Thick & Meaty/Etc.) and add all of the links to my previous writings and various sites.

The photos and captions are the very last thing I add to Lost Friday. At about 10:30pm, I scour hundreds of screenshots of the episode, saving any and every image I could conceivably bust on. I normally look at about 500 screenshots a week, and end up using 10-15 of them for each Lost Friday. I save, resize, upload, paste and probably go to the bathroom a time or two.

At this point, it’s about quarter to 12, and I’m trying hard to stay awake and get everything ready for my self-imposed midnight deadline. I place the photos wherever they would flow best in the post, and start throwing captions around. Because I only work on captions late at night and under deadline duress, they sometimes have a tendency to be surreal or make absolutely no sense at all. To this day, there are about 10 captions out there that still bewilder me to no end. I couldn’t explain them to you if I tried.

Once the captions are slapped together, Lost Friday starts to resemble the pristine weekly CDP post you’ve come to know and set your watch to over the past two years. At 12:01am on Wednesday morning, I hit the publish button, proclaim myself a genius and go to freaking sleep, knowing that I’ve once again satisfied the raving mobs with nothing more than my table scraps.

In actuality, I shake my head in utter defeat, knowing that I’ve gone another week without getting it exactly right. I think it’s my desire for that perfect post that keeps me coming back for more. Either that, or the e-mails from people telling me that they’ll stop visiting the CDP if I quit talking about Lost.

A typical Lost Friday is anywhere from 2,000 to 4,000 words a week. That’s up to 16 pages of material EVERY FRIDAY! Considering that my timeframe to write these is about 5 hours max, you start to see how awesome I am for doing this every week. Professional writers make a fantastic living for doing a lot less, and Lost Friday just accounts for 1/3 of what I normally put into the CDP every week. I’m not boasting, I’m just coming to a very sad realization. Damn.

So, whether you wanted to know or not, that’s the creative process behind Lost Friday. I appreciate you taking the time to check it out. I’ll get back to performing dog tricks now; sound off in the comments section and brace yourself for the most surprising finale in Lost history. Cheers.

Lost Tuesday – Caption Edition 2.

Another day closer to the Lost Season 3 Finale, another 30 of the best Lost Friday captions of the year. Read, enjoy and sound off in the comments section.

(Juliet’s annual face-lift didn’t pan out quite so well this year.)

(Jack becomes suddenly aware that on the mainland he was recognized as a locksmith, not a spinal surgeon as previously assumed.)

(“…And that’s how I got into commemorative spoon collecting. You?”)

(“Yes, Party Of Five ran for six seasons! Why is that so damn hard to understand?”)

(“Jim…Belushi…is…a…comedic…treasure.”)

(When you want to fly round-trip at no more than 30 feet off the ground, fly Oceanic.)

(Brought to you by the Emo Goldfish Council.)

(Hurley is completely drunk….on HAM!)


(This looks just like my Dad’s senior yearbook photo.)

(Claire, putting on one of her better performances in awhile.)

(“Crap…the producers just realized that I’m irrelevant.”)

(“See? Right here, it says ‘No Dogs Allowed.'”)

(“Nice rack, Kate.”)

(Jack’s learning how to play “It’s Raining Men.”)

(“Damn…do they have an Asteroids machine in that rec room?”)

(“You may have my kidney, but at least I’m not paralyzed!”)

(Emeril at home.)

(“Dude, this island is just one big salad, and I’m diggin’ in!”)

(“Whoops, I think I just paralyzed myself again.”)

(Please, for your own good, don’t eat the chili.)


(Just for the hell of it, Desmond takes a shot at Charlie.

(“WAAAAAALLLLLLLT!”)

(“Heh-heh…I guess the whole kidney thing was pretty funny.”)

(Suddenly and without warning, Locke’s appendix bursts.)

(“I haven’t shaved in 800 years.”)

(“Someday bunny, we’ll run away to Vegas and finally get married. Someday…”)

(“That’s it, wicker chair. I’ve had just about enough of your crap.”)

(Sayid gives Karl CPR directly to his spinal cord.)

(0ARWN3D!)

(“Liam, be honest. You got bit by that zombie, didn’t you?”)

TOMORROW – LOST WEDNESDAY:
WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW BEFORE THE FINALE.

Lost Monday – Caption Edition.

The very first Lost Monday of the season is upon us. We have much to re-hash.

In honor of the Season 3 Finale of Lost this Wednesday, the CDP has devoted its entire week to the mysterious island drama that may or may not have peaked in the first season. More specifically, the CDP has devoted its entire week to Lost Friday; the funniest and smartest Lost recap on the web, regardless of what anyone outside of my house has to say on the matter.

Today and tomorrow, we’ll showcase the best photo captions of Season 3. For whatever reason, people always seem to like these, and have sent me many e-mails and kind words to solidify that fact. I appreciate that, so I’m giving you the 60 best captions of the season (30 today and 30 tomorrow). Enjoy, sound off in the comments section, and we’ll see you again tomorrow.

(Desmond packed light, opting to only bring along 48 back issues of Maxim magazine.)

(Eko, upon remembering that he has Superpowers, flies off the island.)

(In the distance, Hurley spots a tree made entirely of Slim Jims.)

(“Wow, is that a tree made entirely of Slim Jims? Hurley, get over here!”)

(Santa Claus in June.)

(Henry Gale’s MySpace photo. Funniest caption ever.)

(Matthew Fox finally drowns in his own ego.)

(Ben’s restaurant had great food, but the parking was terrible.)

(“I just wanted to say that you were great in Happy Gilmore.”)


(Jack’s rendition of ‘Over The Rainbow’ blew away the judges at the Prison Talent Show.)

(“I’m so sick of Internet nerds making fun of my screencaps! WAAAAALLLT!”)

(A young Gene Wilder makes his cameo appearance on the island.)

(“Wow…you should really have that looked at.”)

(“I never made the connection that cheating on a hitman’s wife was a bad idea!”)

(In just under 30 seconds, Sayid murders a thousand people in his mind.)

(“This is you. You suck.”)


(“Look Charlie, British or not, I’m cutting off that mullet.”)

(“You’ve got to lift it up, brother.”)

(Years too late, Locke comes up with the perfect quote for his Senior yearbook.)

(He was only captured for a few hours, but Eko managed to eat 29 people during this time.)

(Desmond peers two weeks into the future to see how awesome his beard’s gunna look.)

(“We’re turning that entire island into a Gift Shop.”)

(Kate gets her head stuck between the bars again.)

(“Ahhh, I finally found the “All Torture Channel.””)

(“WAAAALT!”)

(“As a new character, I envision a long and happy life here on the island.”)

(“Knock it off, Roy! You’re like, 5 feet away from me!”)

(This is the best Kate’s looked all episode.)

(“WAAAAAAAALLLLT!!!”)

TOMORROW – LOST TUESDAY:
THE BEST CAPTIONS (PART II).

Lost Friday – "Greatest Hits."

Season 3 – Episode 21: “Greatest Hits.”

The second-to-last Lost Friday of the year is upon us. We have much to discuss; which is amazing, considering that this was a Charlie episode (rimshot).

I kid Charlie; I sort of miss the little Hobbit already. Oh wait, he didn’t die? Damn.

I want to start off by reminding everyone that the CDP will devote ALL NEXT WEEK to Lost Friday in honor of the Season 3 Finale. We’ll be recapping all of the Season 3 goodness all next week, so please stop in every day in preparation for the big send-off. We’ll have the best photo captions of Season 3, an all-haiku Season 3 recap, and various other points of little to no interest to yourself. Stop in anyways, though. Maybe buy a t-shirt or something.

I’d be lying if I told you that this was an action-packed, soggy-panted episode, blasting us completely into the finale and continuing on a string of amazing episodes that started over a month ago. Nope, this wasn’t even the best Charlie episode so far, let alone anything close to what we’ve grown accustomed to this May. That all being said, it was a reasonably good buffer leading into the Season 3 Finale, and a good way to set the stage for the bloodbath that’s about to ensue.

(Sun follows along with the subtitles.)

Speaking of bloodbaths, the rumor mill states that no less than 4 featured characters (castaways, Hostiles or otherwise) are going to die during next week’s 2-hour finale. Don’t look at that as a spoiler, just look at it as something to look forward to. Also appreciate that I used the word ‘look’ three times in one sentence, and it still came out grammatically correct.

This week, we got a rundown of how the castaways plan to ‘asplode the Hostiles, we finally got a look at the underwater DHARMA station, we’re going to see a trek to the Radio Tower (something they should have done 89 days ago), and we saw a side of Charlie Pace that was even more emo and annoying than when he was still on the junk.

Meanwhile, John Locke slowly decomposes on a pile of rotten skeletons. Man, that’s going to be one boring-ass flashback episode.

Strap in and prepare yourself for The Thick & Meaty!

IN FLASHBACKS, YO:

Charlie, in preparation for his suicide mission, writes down the 5 happiest moments of his life. They recall the first time he heard Suck Shaft on the radio, the time he shut his domineering father up for good and drowned him, the time his junkie brother gave him a ring made entirely out of heroin, the time he saved a prostitute (Nadia) from paying her pimp his rightful 30% of the profits, and the time he met Claire and was subsequently blue-balled for 91 straight days by her.

Greatest Hits!

(Sayid gives Karl CPR directly to his spinal cord.)

IN REAL TIME, YO:

Jack treks the castaways into the middle of the jungle, so they can watch Rousseau blow up a tree (was it really necessary to explain how dynamite works?). According to Jack, when the Hostiles come to raid the camp, the castaways are going to dress the dynamite up like pregnant women to confuse them. When the hostiles hook the dynamite up to the ultrasound machine, ka-boom! After that, they’re going to draw a huge EJECT button on the beach and blast themselves back onto the mainland.

Jack says, “We’re gunna blow ’em all to hell.” Then he takes a big bite out of a Pizza Hut ‘Meat Lovers’ pizza and mugs for the camera. I’m starting to think that the product placement is getting a little bit out of hand.

Naomi tells Charlie that a Drive Shaft ‘Greatest Hits’ album was released on the mainland to commemorate his death. It consists of 13 different versions of You All Everybody, including a mix by Timbaland and the Postal Service. It debuted at #198 on the Billboard Top 200, and gracefully bowed out a week later.

All this talk about remembering someone’s death brings us to the Question Of The Week!

How Will The CDP Be Remembered After Death?

A) $5 Best Buy gift card.

B) Flowery HTML banner.

C) Lifetime TiVo subscription for next-of-kin.

D) Family discovers the porn wing I’ve added onto the basement (thanks, Bill).

E) Christopher Cross performs ‘Sailing’ at funeral. I come back to life as zombie and kill Christopher Cross.

Of course, the correct answer is, “Huge rummage sale.” Let’s move along.

Sayid, after contemplating it since the goddamn Pilot Episode, thinks they should finally get around to the radio tower and disable the blocking frequency. Juliet says that the Looking Glass station is the source of the trouble, and doesn’t know where it is….nope….not a clue.

She then mumbles something and starts walking in the completely opposite direction as Sayid. The walk turns into a saunter, then a jog and eventually a full-on sprint until she is no longer able to be seen. In the distance, a dog barks.

(This show is rated TV-14 for graphic bunny violence.)

Desmond, who loves nothing more than to poop all over Charlie’s party, tells him about his latest future flash. In order for Claire and Aaron to be saved, Charlie needs to sacrifice himself in the Looking Glass. In a TV show chock-full of McGuffins and Red Herrings, it’s pretty safe to say that Desmond has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about, and this storyline will vanish come Season 4.

Elsewhere, Jin grills Sun about Juliet’s tape recording. Sun explains to Jin that the baby is healthy and she was able to see it on ultrasound. She then tells him that he’s a sterile fisherman’s son and she cheated on him with a cue-ball back at home. Jin roundhouse kicks Sun so hard that the show starts over from the beginning.

Hey, look! It’s Karl! And he’s got something important to say! What’s that you say, Karl? The Others are coming? Tonight, instead of tomorrow? Gosh, we’d really like to believe you, Karl; if only there were some way that you could give us a flashback to your camp, say, 6 hours ago, that would be really great! You can? You will? Thanks, Karl! That’s a good boy!

In flashbacks, Ben wants to attack the castaways now! Richard applies his guyliner with great vigor.

(Ice. Queen.)

Jack takes the majority of the castaways to the radio tower. Bernard, Jin and Sayid hang around the camp with the artillery. Desmond and Charlie head out in search of the Looking Glass. Locke grumbles and attempts to hold his small intestine in. Eko, Boone, Shannon, Ana Lucia, the Marshall and Libby continue to draw flies.

On the boat, Desmond and Charlie reach the Looking Glass, where they exchange some parting words and a brief, but passionate, kiss. Desmond offers to trade places with Charlie, who responds by nearly killing him with the oar. Isn’t it nice how on television, everyone gets knocked out exactly when they’re supposed to, for exactly as long as they’re supposed to? What if that oar shot would have killed Desmond? What if he whiffed and missed Desmond by a mile? How would you save face after that?

“Juss swingin’ at a wee gnat, mate.”

(0ARWN3D!)

Charlie descends into the Looking Glass and pops up to discover that it has not been flooded. Two women with guns bear down on him, the Hobbit pees the pool, and we smash-cut to black.

Not bad. Not bad at all. The stage has been set, the plan is in motion, and it’ll only be less than a week until we get to see how they’ll screw it up yet again. I mean, shooting tents full of explosives? It seems almost foolproof!

The more that I think about it, the more I think they adopted this plan because it just seemed the most awesome. I mean, what’s more awesome than firing a shot into a tent full of dynamite, subsequently vaporizing a bunch of bad guys in the process? Is there anything more awesome?

5 Awesome Things…Better Than Detonating A Tent Full Of Dynamite.

1) Not being tried as an adult.

2) John McCrea, the lead singer for Cake.

3) That one dream I had with Selma Hayek and the World’s Largest Hoagie.

4) Winning the Money In The Bank ladder match at Wrestlemania.

5) Detonating two tents full of dynamite.

Step back and shield your eyes, it’s time to Break It Down!

4– Can you believe that Charlie’s going to die before getting to sleep with Claire? I mean, can you honestly believe it? I dislike Charlie and all, but he put a lot of cultivation into that one-sided relationship, and I feel pretty bad for the guy right about now. He went from two girls a night in Finland, to three months of fetching water and changing cloth diapers for ABSOLUTELY NO REASON*. This is all the more reason why Claire is completely worthless on the island and should die next week. Not because she won’t sleep with Charlie, mind you; just that she doesn’t do anything for anybody.

And don’t start that crap about Aaron; that baby is made of a crude plastic, and you all know it.

(*Okay, so maybe he loves her. Even still.)

8– Bernard and Rose made their first appearance together all season. To me, that says one (or both) of them ain’t making it to Season 4. It was also nice to see Vincent for a tenth of a second, as well. I’m still hoping for a Vincent flashback episode, documenting his last 90 days on the island. I’d expect to see him peeing on lots of trees and licking himself, but that would ruin the plot of the next Locke episode.

Such funny jokes. I ran out of material in 2004.

(This is what happens when you let George W. Bush make toast.)

15– If Naomi is telling the truth, and everyone in the world thinks that Flight 815 was recovered with no survivors, isn’t it safe to assume that Michael and Walt never made it back home? Could they actually still be out in the ocean? I mean, if they did somehow make it back to the mainland, they surely would have told someone, right? Right?

WAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLT!

16– It’s good to see Jack making decisions, regardless of if the majority of the castaways agree with them or not. This actually hits home for me, as I find myself in a similar situation almost every day of my life. Whenever I’m with my Wife and a group of friends, and the time comes for us to get out of the house and actually do something, I always get every eyeball in the house focused on me.

Apparently, nobody I know is capable of making a decision, and I’m always left to plan the itinerary for the evening. It’s gotten to the point where they’re actually calling me ‘Alpha Male.’ Not because I am, mind you (I’m 5’9″ and 156lbs.), but simply because they’re too lazy and indecisive to determine where they want to order their freaking pizza, and I absolutely cannot stand wasting time on meaningless crap like that. I’d rather focus on recapping TV shows and playing Super Paper Mario until 3am.

As you would assume, every decision I make is incorrect and frowned upon, even though they left the entire decision making process up to me. I can never win with these people, honestly. I’m through deciding things; from now on, decisions are going to make themselves.

(“We have to un-jam that radio tower, dude. I have to vote for Jordin!”)

23– I can’t believe Melinda got kicked off of American Idol. If Blake (wiggida-wiggida-wickie-wackie-boom-boom-tsss) Lewis beats Jordin (I’m Chris Hansen from Dateline NBC, and I’d like to have a word with you) Sparks, I just might have to jump through my television and beat-box his skull to malt powder.

42– You know what Season 4 needs? Two words: Zombie Eko.

Yeah, this is what happens when you get an uneventful episode. Sorry, kids.

Spoiler nerds, duck and cover! Here comes The Preview!

(Sorry my desk wasn’t clean when this photo was taken; this place is a MESS!)

Season 3 – Episode 22/23: “Through The Looking Glass.”

I need to be completely honest with you here, so please listen up. While compiling information for this week’s Lost Friday, I kind-of-sort-of accidentally spoiled myself concerning the finale. For those of you who wish to be completely spoiled, the information is out there and accurate. I won’t go over it here, but I wanted to be up-front about it, because I normally write The Preview from a purely speculative basis. Because I pretty much know what’s going to happen, I can’t really do that this week.

Here’s what I’m willing tell you, and don’t worry, I’m not going to seriously spoil you. If you really, really, really want to know (you don’t), send me an e-mail or something. And away we go.

(“Liam, be honest. You got bit by that zombie, didn’t you?”)

4– It’s going to be awesome. The Castaways and the Others are going to have a war, and people are going to die. You’ll be satisfied in that regard, I promise.

8– We’ll see what’s going on with Locke, and we’ll see someone show up with him that you won’t be expecting.

15– At the end of Season 1, we got a twist that changed the dynamic of the entire show. At the end of Season 2, we got more of the same. This season, we’re probably going to get the biggest twist in the history of the show. It’s something we’ve never seen before, it will start billions of discussion threads, and offer insight as to how the remaining 3 seasons will play out. Believe me, you’re going to geek the hell out at the end of this one; it’s seriously going to change the game. Just reading it made me go, “Ruh-roh…this is going to mess some people up.”

16– Hurley’s going to do something awesome. One of the most awesomest things he’s ever done.

(Charlie looks so pathetic in this photo that I can’t even make fun of him.)

23– Every time the last few episodes of the season roll around, I start to think to myself, “I wonder how the castaways are going to screw it up this time.” At the end of this episode, I seriously doubt you’re going to feel that way. In fact, it seems that the Castaways are getting smarter and smarter with each passing episode.

42– Even though I went and ruined something that I had been looking forward to for months, there’s no way I’ll enjoy this episode any less. It’s going to be that interesting. Jack is going to have his best episode ever.

Well, there you have it. Another Lost Friday in the books. Remember that Lost Friday will expand to ALL NEXT WEEK in honor of the Season 3 Finale, so be sure to stop by the CDP every day next week for more details about the end of Season 3. As always, start the conversation in the comments section and send all erotic photography to communistdance@yahoo.com. Once you’re done giving me advice on avoiding the paparazzi, head on over to The Coconut Internet and say hello.

Here are links to every Lost Friday this season. Thanks for reading; we’ll see you on Lost Monday.

-theCDP.

(“FINGERS!”)

Season 3 Preview
Season 3 – Episode 1 Review
Season 3 – Episode 2 Review
Season 3 – Episode 3 Review
Season 3 – Episode 4 Review
Season 3 – Episode 5 Review
Season 3 – Episode 6 Review
Season 3 – Episode 7 Review
Season 3 – Episode 8 Review
Season 3 – Episode 9 Review
Season 3 – Episode 10 Review
Season 3 – Episode 11 Review
Season 3 – Episode 12 Review
Season 3 – Episode 13 Review
Season 3 – Episode 14 Review
Season 3 – Episode 15 Review
Season 3 – Episode 16 Review
Season 3 – Episode 17 Review
Season 3 – Episode 18 Review
Season 3 – Episode 19 Review
Season 3 – Episode 20 Review

NEXT – LOST MONDAY:
THE BEST CAPTIONS OF SEASON 3.

Praying For The End Of Time.

CDP– “Honestly hun, I don’t think this place actually exists.”
MISSUS– “Please… don’t be an idiot tonight.”

Waukau, Wisconsin. According to my sister, she’s driven through there on multiple occasions, seeing not a single person in the process. Her theory was that it was a long-abandoned Ghost Town; mine was that the place was just a fake front for an all-human, for-profit slaughterhouse. Although I spent my entire Saturday night within the confines of Waukau, I was unable to confirm or deny either speculation.

A friend of ours was graduating from college, so her family threw her a party at a Youth Center-style pavilion in Waukau, which was about 10 minutes outside of the Missus’ hometown of Winneconne (and where I went to school for 12 years). The fact that I had never known of the existence of this place troubled and confused me; you’d think there would have been at least one night where I ended up there, perhaps a flat tire or through a friend-of-a-friend, but nope. After about a half-hour of hairpin, 5-mile-an-hour turns through thick brush and darkness, we arrived.

I put on my game face.

Me and the Missus showed up with Ben and Sherry, and I instantly got a serious headache just seconds after stepping under the fluorescent lights that had been set to ‘Perma-Noon.’ The Missus and Sherry started with mingling with all of their close acquaintances and the Guest of Honor, and I started wrangling up as much alcohol as I could find for myself and Ben. We eventually settled on a concoction of whiskey, Diet Sierra Mist and lime vodka that had the both of us reeling after about 20 minutes.

Add that to generous portions of cheese and potato salad we instantly consumed, and we were pretty much set for the evening. True to form, I was becoming more and more unapproachable as the night kicked into motion.

I don’t know whether my ability to function properly in social settings is getting exponentially worse, or I’m just more in tune with the fact that I’m no longer good at it. Either way, it’s gotten to the point where I honestly don’t see any reason why people would want to sit next to me and mingle. Sure, I’m sexy enough and smell like freshly mown grass, but most of the time I just act surly and eventually offend someone until one of us walks away, never to return. I chalk it up to social anxiety, crippling nervousness coupled with alcohol, and a heaping helping of apathy to boot.

I’m on when I want to be on, kids. ‘Life of the Party’ CDP and ‘Depressed Asshole’ CDP have always been my standby party personas, but I’ve noticed that the more positive of the two is making fewer and fewer appearances. I could speculate as to why, but I think it’s just resounding selfishness and laziness on the part of yours truly. I’m not proud of it; I’m just acknowledging that it’s there.

Back at the party, a friend of the family was manning the karaoke machine, and he sounded almost exactly like Boomhauer from King Of The Hill when he spoke. On the positive side, his voice wasn’t all that bad, and I didn’t cringe or get uncomfortable whenever he sang a tune. He did, however, have a bag of props that he liberally dipped into from time to time (afro wig, oversized cowboy hat, etc.), and that was no good, Johnny Cash tune or otherwise.

“You know what this party needs?” I slurred over to Ben, who was just as tipsy on the other side of the table.

“Whazzthat?“

“A Wii!” I exclaimed, in reference to the latest unnecessary gadget adorning my living room. The two of us had spent the last day and a half mastering the mechanics of the latest Nintendo innovation, and I could hear it calling my name amongst the reverberations of ‘Walking After Midnight’ and ‘Ocean Front Property.’

“Stop drinking. You have to drive us home.” The Missus snapped from one chair over. She was right, so my night ended a little early; instead opting for ice water and chewing on stirring straws.

I dizzily made my way to the pavilion bathroom and spent a minute or so looking into the mirror. After accepting how God-awful I look under buzzing fluorescent lights and attempting to ignore my horrid headache, I started asking myself questions that shouldn’t be contemplated in public restrooms. You know, the same ridiculous and inane questions I ask myself about every 4 months or so.

“What am I doing here?“

(Well, you’re here with your wife and friends because one of them graduated from College, and that’s a good thing. We’re here to celebrate someone’s achievements. You do know what achievements are, right?)

“Okay. Then why am I so unhappy?“

(Because you’re uncomfortable and out-of-place. You probably know 6 other people there, and everyone else is wearing plaid shirts and NASCAR hats. You’re worried that you don’t fit in, which is why you’ve been making fun of everyone tonight, and deserve to be thrown out. Stop drinking, get your head on straight and don’t make your wife’s friends think that married a butthole.)

“I see…. So, what’s my problem, anyway?“

(You’re selfish. You don’t know that you are, but trust me, you are. Every waking moment of your life should not be spent trying to make yourself happy, you know. Every now and again, you need to step back and just be for awhile. I don’t care if there’s something else you’d rather be doing; stop being a shallow jerk. Shake this lingering bad attitude and start telling jokes, monkey. Funny ones.)

Silly me.

I thought my social anxiety reached a fever pitch plateau a few weeks ago, when I had a near-meltdown at a bowling alley that almost resulted in my ass being kicked. A group of us hit the local lanes, when I was instantly reminded why I try my damnest to avoid bars, concerts or anywhere else that hoards of idiots congregate. I was instantly drowning in smoke, unbearable country music, hootin’, hollerin’ and various other activities that vapid losers partake in a feeble attempt to have ‘fun.’

Never mind the fact the everyone should be allowed to enjoy themselves in any way they seem fit and I was just being an elitist jerk; I was being rubbed the wrong way, and my faith in humanity continued to drop through the floor.

You can only mock rednecks for so long until they start looking at you and wisen up. Of course, getting one of them to wisen up can take anywhere from several hours to days even, but it will happen eventually. They’ll wipe the tobacco juice from their collective chins, take their 15 year old girlfriends off of their laps, adjust their Confederate flag belt buckles and start swinging. Luckily for me, it didn’t get to that point, because my wife was smart enough to tell me to shut the hell up and pick up that 2-3-5 Spare. I swear to you, I bought Wii Sports just so I never have to go to an actual bowling alley again.

Long after everyone else forgot about it, that night at the alley stuck with me. Why was I so angered by the conflicting enjoyment of others? Why was it so easy for me to collapse based entirely on the conflicting behavior of others? Why did I hate people so much? Surely, this behavior can’t be a normal reaction, could it?

I took my mom and sister out for ice cream on Mother’s Day. After ordering our stuff, I refused to sit and eat in the store, as I felt there were far too many ‘loud, obnoxious idiots’ around (you should have seen the place; I was sort of right). Adhering to my wishes, we all ate our ice cream in my Mom’s minivan. Does that sound like something you’ve ever done? I doubt it, yet the people around me are starting to treat this as acceptable behavior from myself. “Oh, that’s just the CDP being the CDP. He’s like that; it’s fine.“

It’s not. Even I know that it’s not. Let’s continue.

As the graduation party moved along, my spirits were picked up by a stunning karaoke performance of ‘Paradise By The Dashboard Light,’ sung by Ben and Erin. Ben put on a performance for the ages, resulting in what was honestly one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen anyone do. Ben’s a funny guy, but when he gets a microphone in front of him, he becomes a different man. I’ve seen it happen for 10 years now, going back to when he was the lead singer in our old punk band. They should have just shut off the lights and struck the set after that performance; there was simply nothing that was going to top it. I wanted to go home immediately afterwards; what was the point of not leaving on a high note?

For the remainder of the evening, many people were pressuring me into singing karaoke myself. Considering my physical condition at the time, coupled with my emotional state and the fact that there was going to be nothing cooler than Ben’s performance short of dropping my pants and teabagging someone’s Whiskey Sour, I refused until people kind of got snippy with me. Eventually, I stood on stage briefly for a rendition of ‘Love Shack,’ where I played the role of that one gay guy that’s in the B-52’s.

Then, mercifully, it was time to go home.

On the car ride back, I asked my wife if the guest of honor had a good time. She sort of snapped at me, saying something like, “How should I know? You were there too, you know.” She was confused as to why I was asking her such a non-selfish question, which is exactly how she should have responded to me. I don’t ask these questions because I don’t care, but I was starting to realize that maybe I should. This revelation was met with anger and confusion from the Missus, who has long since grown accustomed to my selfish and egotistical ways.

I deserved it.

For the first time in a very long time, I’m really starting to be concerned about my attitude and personal outlook. I’ve always stated that you should be able to live whatever life you choose to live, provided it’s not making anyone else’s life miserable. Pretend as they may, I’m starting to think that I’m negatively affecting those around me with my Bipolar quirks and OCD-tendencies. It’s nice of them to ignore the worst of me and focus on the good stuff, but if the roles were reversed, I would have thrown myself out of the Circle of Friends years ago. Something’s gotta give.

So, what should I do about it? I hear there’s all sorts of wonderful medication out there that destroys your creativity, strips you of any sort of emotional high and completely snuffs out your sex drive. What? You’re saying that I can stop being a jerk around people, and all I have to do is give up writing and sex? Where do I sign? I should have done this years ago!

Yeah, that’s not going to happen. If you know me well, you’ll know that I like to combat stress and depression with harder and harder work. To me, stagnation and standing still make you as good as dead, and maybe it’s this current complacency that’s put my mind in this emo funk. What I need is a big project to work on, and come this Summer, I’ll probably get my wish. Hell, I was supposed to finish my book a year ago; when’s that coming out?

This, like all things, will soon pass. I’ll get my head back on straight, my close friends will feel more comfortable around me, and vice-versa. I just need to make sure it happens before I lose everything.

Sound off in the comments section, and hook a brother up with some positivity.

NEXT: LOST FRIDAY.

It’s Been Awhile Since I Got A Bunch Of Hate Mail.

(Jerry Falwell – 1933-2007)

“I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People for the American Way- all of them who have tried to secularize America- I point the finger in their face and say “you helped this happen.” – Following the September 11 Attacks.

“AIDS is the wrath of a just God against homosexuals. To oppose it would be like an Israelite jumping in the Red Sea to save one of Pharaoh’s charioteers . . . AIDS is not just God’s punishment for homosexuals; it is God’s punishment for the society that tolerates homosexuals.” – On AIDS.

“You’ll be riding along in an automobile. You’ll be the driver perhaps. You’re a Christian. There’ll be several people in the automobile with you, maybe someone who is not a Christian. When the trumpet sounds you and the other born-again believers in that automobile will be instantly caught away – you will disappear, leaving behind only your clothes and physical things that cannot inherit eternal life. That unsaved person or persons in the automobile will suddenly be startled to find the car suddenly somewhere crashes…. Other cars on the highway driven by believers will suddenly be out of control and stark pandemonium will occur on … every highway in the world where Christians are caught away from the drivers wheel.” – On Born-Again Christians.

“Labor unions should study and read the Bible instead of asking for more money. When people get right with God, they are better workers.” – On Labor Unions.

“I do not believe the homosexual community deserves minority status. One’s misbehavior does not qualify him or her for minority status. Blacks, Hispanics, women, etc., are God-ordained minorities who do indeed deserve minority status.” – On Minorities.

“I hope I live to see the day when, as in the early days of our country, we won’t have any public schools. The churches will have taken them over again and Christians will be running them. What a happy day that will be!” – On Public Schools.

“I question the sincerity of people like the Reverend Martin Luther King.” – On Civil Rights.

The world has lost a true douchebag. Sound off in the comments section and pay your respects.

A Little Self-Plagiarism Never Hurt Nobody.

The staff here at CDP World Headquarters (pictured above) wanted to spotlight 3 quick stories that had been published on the CDP in years past, but since buried or tucked away beneath hundreds of other posts. Through a sophisticated and thorough dig through the CDP Archives, these 3 tales (long since determined ‘lost’) have resurfaced and are now being given the proper treatment they previously deserved. We wanted to republish them today for 3 main reasons:

A) We have nothing better to put up.
B) They were funny and overlooked.
C) We have nothing better to blah-bloo–blah–BLAH.

Enjoy.

1. From “Wilhelm Screamroller,” originally published December 9, 2004:

This is proof positive that not only is the Missus the perfect woman for me, but also that there’s something seriously wrong with her.

We were watching Wheel of Fortune last night, and the final puzzle was on. Concentrating heavily on the show, the two of us hadn’t really said anything to each other for about 5 minutes. The category was “Thing“, and the puzzle looked like this:

_ _ R _ _ _ _

My brow furrowed, wondering what it could possibly be. The Missus, in all seriousness and concentration, looks over at me and confidently says…

“Fartbag.”

I damn near spit out my chocolate milk. Before I had the chance to catch my breath and explain to her that she just made up a non-existent and potentially vulgar word, the contestant selected some letters, and the puzzle now looked something like this:

_ AR _ BO _

Looking a bit embarrassed, the Missus soon saw the error of her ways.

“Oh!” She said. “Fartbox.”

I could go on for hours with all the reasons why this was funny to me; the timing, the sheer audacity, but I think you get the picture. She’s a good woman, and I love her dearly.

By the way, the correct answer was CARIBOU.

2. From “Grammar Enema,” originally published May 10, 2006:

Watching David Blaine’s show on Monday reminded me of the greatest card trick I’d ever pulled off. I was in the 7th grade, and I threw a party for all of my friends at my Grandma’s house. Being the eager-to-please host, I handed out sodas and generous slices of pizza, telling jokes and performing magic tricks to the content crowd.

I was quite the magician in my time, as you would probably assume. It’s been a while since I’ve busted out the playing cards, but I think I could still throw down with the best of them.

Anyways, in what would be my last trick of the night (you have to go out on a high note), I told my friend to pick a card out of the deck and show his friends. It was the three of hearts, and everyone made certain that I did not see it when he thrust it back into the deck. I began to do my little routine where I cracked wise while I did my slight of hand, but something went wrong about halfway through. I lost track of the three of hearts, and I knew that I had to abort the trick.

A little frustrated and embarrassed, I announced that I had to start the trick over, and had my friend shuffle the deck about six times. I then told him to pull out a new card at random and once again show it to his friends.

When he pulled the card out, the room got really silent, jaws dropped and focused directly on me. “Woah, how did you do that?” he said.

“Do what?” I shot back, as he turned the card over to reveal the three of hearts.

The poor bastard actually pulled the same card twice.

“Thank you and goodnight!” I said, snatching the cards and making a beeline for the door.

This exit would have been far more dramatic had it not been my own house, as I had to quietly enter a little while later when nobody was looking.

3. From “Eight Teeth To Eat You,” originally published November 2, 2006:

First impressions are very important, and I’m the undisputed King and Master of peeing them straight down my leg.

At work on Tuesday, a new employee was about to come over to my cubicle and introduce herself to me. She knew I was sort of a big deal, and probably wanted an autograph or something. It just so happened to be Halloween, so she was wearing a Prom Night-style costume; like a dead prom queen or something. She looked great, although I still haven’t seen her in the office without the bloody makeup and tattered dress. Maybe I just made her up, and she doesn’t really work here.

Anyways, she poked her head in just as I was taking a huge bite out of a BK Veggie Burger (along with a king-size fry and a chocolate shake; I’m trying to watch what I eat). As she kindly said hello (while cradling a bloody, plastic baby in her arms), I bit down and shot about a quart of mayo and barbecue sauce out of the ass-end of said burger, spooting it all over my important documents and literature.

As it were, she now thinks that the cleanest and most obsessive-compulsive man in the office is the filthiest and messiest. I’m sure of it.

You just watch. Over the next few weeks, I’ll try to engage in conversation with her, making several attempts to prove to her just how organized and anti-mayo-spootage I actually am. However, karma being what it is, I’ll just find more ways to solidify her first impression of me. Toner will splash liberally onto my pants. Newspaper ink will smear across my white shirt. Cream cheese and coffee will bombard me from all angles.

I’m the office slob to her, and no amount of organizing my Hi-Liters by color will undo that. This is precisely the sort of stuff that keeps me up at night, straightening my carpet fibers one at a time.

Thanks for enjoying recent nostalgia with me. Sound off in the comments section and enjoy ‘yer Monday.