Never Bitter

Greetings from Victoria. After a 3-day jaunt in the States and a 2-night stint in Tofino I am back home in The Great White North. Canada. Polar Bears. Hockey. "Loonies."
It feels...decent.
To recap, Tofino was beautiful. We climbed islands of wind-blown trees and craggy rocks that jutted into the ocean like sentinels on the front line of a battle. In our cabin we played Cranium "Primo Edition," and I felt betrayed and confused after spelling the word "genealogy" wrong. How was I supposed to know it had an "a" instead of an "o?" Wouldn't you spell it "geneology," too? Fuck.
On the way out we overslept and tried to move our check-out time back, but the assholes at the resort wouldn't let us. Not even a measly half hour. So I retaliated in the only way I saw fit, stealing a few arm-fulls of firewood and mentally giving them the finger on the way out.
We also went surfing, which was interesting. I'm fucking terrible at surfing. It's amazingly difficult, and the thing about doing it this far north is this: it's fucking cold. It's hardly worth it. 85% of the people do it just so they can have the satisfaction of going straight from the frigid ocean into their hot tub.

After all this "unwinding" and mingling with my countrymen back home, I was eager to spend a Saturday doing absolutely nothing, save watch a few episodes of LOST. I wanted to sit on my bed with my computer on lap and be pandered to by Jack, Kate, and the rest of the crew, so I went to ABC.com, where I patiently waited for the the full episode player to launch. Except that it didn't launch. Instead, a black screen popped up that said, "Only viewers within the United States can watch these full episodes." And this is when I went insane.

Fuck you, ABC.com. I'm sorry I had the gall to venture an hour and-a-half north, but does that alone mean I will not be able enjoy online episodes of one of my favorite television programs? Do you mean to tell me that "Joe the Logger," just because he lives in Port Angeles and is a resident of The United States, can watch as much LOST as his saw-dust covered heart desires, even though I'm a good-hearted college graduate and he's a plaid-covered disaster that has done nothing in the past five years but dip tobacco and verbally abuse his wife? Are you fucking kidding me, ABC?
Besides ABC, I don't really know who else to blame. They certainly seem like the most obvious candidate, but maybe I should look closer to home. Maybe I should also blame the Canadian parliament for not lobbying harder to have this type of programming made available. Maybe the Prime Minister is one of the those people that has a "Kill Your Television" bumper sticker. It wouldn't surprise me.
But not knowing who to blame isn't even most distressing part. The most distressing part is that I have no idea what to do--no idea how to resolve this situation. I feel helpless and alone. I want to reach out to the cast members for condolence. "Help me, Jack," I want to say. "You would know what to do. You always know what to do. Remember when The Others held you captive? You never lost hope, Jack. You always knew you would be OK. And you, Kate, you can help me. Your skin is so soft and smooth and your green eyes so electrifying. Hold me in your arms and tell me everything is going to be fine. And I mustn't forget you, Claire. Your face looks like it was sculpted by angels and your sultry Australian accent makes me wish my plane had crashed, too. Oh, and I'm sorry about Charlie. He was a good man, Claire--a great man--but he's gone. Gone forever. You have to let him go. Why don't you come over to my campsite so I can comfort you? That's it. This way, Claire...

Anyway, as you can see I am rather distressed about this whole "Lost" thing. So please, if you or anyone you know has some suggestions for overcoming this problem, please email mwetzler@u.washington.edu. God bless.

-Boosh Clown

Song of the Day: Cold December by Matt Costa

Shout-Outs to: Jesse Junck