In Which Sawyer And That Douche From The Bachelor Are Always Choosing The Right Girl At The Wrong Time

One Is Perfect Where The Other Falters

by Dick Cheney

Lost

executive producers Carlton Cuse & Damon Lindelof

Choosing between two women is what God put man on this earth for, and it is what Jacob put Sawyer LaFleur on this island for. And who can't sympathize with the plight of our handsome, beneficent rehabbed con man leader?

how do I love thee until kate gets back to the island? let me count the ways

I mean, two women desire the ripeness of his savory island cock. That's absolutely terrible. How long has it been since the hedges were trimmed on that bush? Nevermind.

jason and his true master: abc's reality tv guru

Bachelor emeritus Jason Mesnick was presented with a similar dilemma this week. He proposed to Melissa, a super hot sales rep. Then they spent six atrocious weeks together where she acted like a possessive biatch and generally ruined his life. He retreated back to ABC's clutches, where, like Gollum begging for the one ring, he asked for his preshush Molly back.

melissa: you were borderline down syndrome, but we still wanted jason to stay with you out of some silly obligation to the outdated concept of marriage

Molly was a little bug-eyed, and a lot retarded. She made a book about the story of her and Jason's love, which straddled the insanity of The Shining and the affectionate nature of Buffalo Bill from The Silence of the Lambs. When he put her in her limo after dumping her, she told him, "You're making a huge mistake."

women give Jason strength

He then launched into what I refer to as the Jason Mesnick face, which is a little like the Peyton Manning face but with more crying and you jerk your head back suddenly as if you were epileptic, or just regretful. He thought he wanted no tan lines, but he learned that actually wasn't as important as is commonly believed.

"this should end well"

Every man comes to a fork in the road sometime, unless he's the fabulously lucky Bill Hendrickson. Don't think my path to chening Lynne was such an easy decision. I had another limber hottie on retainer, but there was just something about the glow in Lynne's eyes when I described my dream of making billions from mining the natural resources of invaded sovereignties. It was like a lightbulb was going on in Lynne's vagina.

could it be any more obvious her IQ is in the 70-80 range?

Similar situation for Sawyer, and Jason Mesnick. No matter how much you try to quench your thirst with a conventionally hot-looking obstetrician who devotedly snuggles against the deepest fibres of your chest hair, you're always wondering what kind of pussy might get time-transported thousands of miles to the deserted island you're on.

"hey sawyer, your daughter is now the new bachelorette--that's what you wanted me to do in the real world, right?"

In one of my favorite books, Neil Gaiman's American Gods, the main character -- Shadow -- is released from prison only to find out his wife is dead. He attends her funeral, and later in his hotel room, he finds her sitting on the edge of his bed. He has the briefest of hopes until he tastes her tongue. Smoky, salty, full of bile and vomit; still dead.

jack's in a suit, she's in a wife beater

When Sawyer sees Kate for the first time after three years, his heart leaps. He's been funning the jungle scientists and jacking off while he watches young Charlotte frolic in the sunlight. But when he finally goes to her, and figures out that she gave up Aaron, and has been doing Jack (but just in the butt so she can remain what is referred to in canon as a Sawyervirgin). Her mouth will no doubt taste just as bad.

As creepy as it was seeing Elizabeth Mitchell be so hopelessly devoted to the master of the long con, you wish they hadn't set it up and paid it off in the same hour. Why on earth did the blonde-blonde pairing have to wait until the very episode of Kate's return?

internists were such morons in 1974

By the way, it's not wholly true that when two blondes reproduce the child always looks like Ryan Seacrest. That's a filthy old wives' tale that was last invoked during the marriage of Meg Ryan and Dennis Quaid. (Though it did limit the output of their coupling to an only child, as one might have hoped.)

Lost has so far not let us enjoy the primary fun of time travel. We didn't even get to hear Juliet speculate on all the tremendous things she could do if she took the submarine to Tahiti and went back into the real world.

To get a proper handle on how awesome and/or depressing it would be, I recommend my homeboy Ken Grimwood's classic time travel novel, Replay, in which the same thing happens, but instead of getting married and setting up a cute house in a weird island cult, the protagonist decides to win gajillions betting on the Dodgers sweeping the World Series.

So far the show has avoided the number one cliché of time travel, what is referred to in the trade as 'I am my own grandpa' syndrome. Still, Sawyer is Aaron and this predictable twist is on its way as surely as a Daniel Faraday-Sayid-Hurley facial hair love triangle will envelop the remaining castaways.

Finally, though, the castaways are going to need some mechanism to return to their own time. We know that Daniel Faraday never quite accomplishes the feat, since he's planning on seducing a preteen Charlotte.

My remaining question is this: whatever happened to the rest of the survivors of Oceanic Flight 815? The show has always had a perilously hard time keeping track, and maybe Richard Alpert's salvo on the beach killed Rose and Bernard? At this moment the only chance such a couple would have to retire would be washing up in an island paradise after a plane crash.

In fact, it really hasn't hit anyone how good their fortune is just yet. Even if they are unable to alter the timeline except in ways they already have, the money they have in their pocket hasn't been reduced in value by a certain Democratic president from the Midwest yet. And hell, Gennifer Flowers hasn't even warranted an entry in wikipedia yet, and our new Keanu Reeves has yet to make the centerpiece of his presidency a balding, overweight conservative talk show host who is far richer than Obama will ever be. And you thought my administration was inept and unfocused!

Let's face it: everything is better in 1974. No jackasses are talking on cell phones while they're in public bathrooms and confusing the hell out of you, the name A-Rod is purely a part of plumbing terminology, and you really don't have to choose between your hot but possibly anoxeric wife (Elizabeth Mitchell's sternum appears to want to burst Alien-style out of her body) and your definitely anoxeric runaway. You can just let them work it out between themselves.

Hopefully the show's writers will solve Sawyer's tender conundrum several seasons from now by flashing several thousands years forward in the future to a massive stone statue of both women going down on the Long Con.

leave any woman who forces you to wear that shirt, LaFleur

Yes, the most important island secret ever, if you go by Entertainment Weekly's fanboy coverage of the show, is what the four-toed statue that Sayid and Sun glimpsed on their mini-island cruise so many seasons ago. It looks like it's the foot of Anubis, the jackal god of the dead. In that case, can they see their way to bringing back Michelle Rodriguez? Her sex with Sawyer was the best sex with Sawyer.

Dick Cheney is the senior contributor to This Recording. He will never tell you where exactly he lives.

"Cover the Windows and All the Walls" - Grouper (mp3)

"Down to the Ocean" - Grouper (mp3)

"Follow In Our Dreams" - Grouper (mp3)

"Heart Current" - Grouper (mp3)

PREVIOUSLY ON THIS RECORDING

Cheney, week two.

Cheney, week four.

Cheney, week six.