Is this gonna be on the test?

By PETER AMES CARLIN and NICK GORINI

So a month into the final season we're still made to wonder: What is "Lost" really about? Is it a show about philosophy? Is it a vast analogy about the wages and moral toll of imperialism? Or is it all, somehow, about the polar bear?

So many ideas, so many direct quotations, so many books turning up everywhere you look. But a lot of that stuff is pure Maguffin; a graduate school of red herrings.

So we here at PAC.com's "Lost" central - including our shadowy leader, Guru Dev Nick Gorini, lit the candles and fired up the incense, took a dunk in the hot tub of wisdom and attained clarity. What follows are the REAL moral/intellectual/narrative headwaters of "Lost."

THEORY THE FIRST: "LOST" IS A METAPHOR FOR RISE AND FALL OF THE BEATLES

John Lennon is the Man in Black: A little bitter, more than a little sardonic, determined to escape the bonds of the utopia he helped create (to say nothing of the wide-eyed fans who reside there), he's possessed of an explosive temper and, when you least expect it, deep sensitivity. When the MiB told Sawyer that Jacob and the other Island cultists were killing one another over nothing he was really saying: “Imagine there’s no countries/it isn’t hard to do/Nothing to kill or die for/And no religion, too. . . “

Paul McCartney is Jacob: Handsome, charming, a trifle melancholy, deeply in love with his own illusion. Jacob/Paul is more than a little manipulative and never shy about picking a fight. Many people believe he’s dead, though his regular appearances - often looking far younger than you’d expect - argue against it. Convinced that ebony and ivory can live together in perfect harmony, but there sure are a lot of names scratched off his cave ceiling. . .

George Harrison is Sayid: Meditative, eastern, suffered at least one near-fatal attack before actually getting killed. Reincarnation important to both. George didn’t seem to return from the Other Side as quickly as Sayid. . . but something in the way he moves just might remind you of another lover.

Ringo Starr is Hurley: The perpetual baby brother, mostly adorable and funny, but a surprisingly capable hit-maker. See also: “It Don’t Come Easy,” which Hurley discovered all too clearly when his lottery winnings seemed to spell nothing but doom. Later turns out to be far more intelligent and better-adjusted than anyone expected.

Stu Sutcliffe is Charlie: Artsy, sensitive, troubled, not quite able to stick with the band. Doomed to die young, but given immortality in the name of his legacy and the spiritual impact he had on those who would go on to greatar glory.

Pete Best is Ben: The very foundation of the rock-and-rhythm, the drummer is always a group’s secret leader. Until the group calls for a new drummer. Now Ben is in his own spiritual Liverpool, sentenced to a life of woulda, coulda, shouldas.

Yoko Ono is Kate: Beguiling, not always friendly, perfectly capable, and willing, to kick anyone’s ass at any moment. Just when she seems charming - that’s when you should be afraid. Very afraid.

Linda McCartney is Juliet: Blonde, smart, no evident musical ability, but a natural-born matriarch. Dies tragically young, leaving behind a shattered partner who rebounds quickly into another, extremely ill-considered new partnership.

Brian Epstein is Locke: A man of faith whose reach often exceeded his grasp. And yet his spirit was pure, his belief in his cause unwavering, and his success so astonishing as to be inarguable.  All this despite being shockingly ill-equipped for his role, and more afraid than anyone would guess. Died young under conditions so murky no one can say for sure if he committed suicide, died accidentally or was murdered.

Allen Klein is Charles Widmore: Shadowy, scary, will do anything and kill anyone in order to get what he wants. But even when he wins the battle, he always seems to lose the war.

THEORY THE SECOND: "LOST" IS A METAPHOR FOR THE GW BUSH WAR TEAM: 

After a cataclysmic event, a group of empowered surviviors gathers together to fight back, survive, solve life's greater mysteries, and tackle the essential question of man's nature. Was it fate or free will that led us into war? Both groups are/were lost in many ways. Let's briefly break down some of the key players:

George Bush is Locke: After a life riddled with failure and endless daddy issues, finds himself in a position of great power. A man driven by faith who doesn't spend much time using logic or thought to make decisions, the power goes to his head. Like Locke, Bush's reputation is deader than a crab-riddled corpse.

Dick Cheney is Jack: The REAL power broker in the group, almost too coldly analytical, and unwilling to listen to anyone, even when the truth is staring him in the face. Convinced he can fix anything, and that anyone who doesn't understand what he's doing or where he's coming from, he rarely tells anyone in the group what his motivations are. The only difference between Jack and Dick? Jack has a heart.

Saddam Hussein is Ben: Am I telling truth? Am I lying? Am I your ally? Am I your enemy? Sure, I do awful things, but you understand, it's for good reasons. I may be a tyrant, but I provide you some stability. I sure love all this power. Oh, wait - are you getting sick of this game yet? Sorry, I'll tell you truth about everything! Wait! Wait! Damn, too late. I've lost all my power...

Donald Rumsfeld is Smokey: More than ready to head to war, nearly salivates over it. He just wants to go home, if home means a world where Capitalist-based Christianity reigns in every nation. He'll do anything to get home. He's tired of the game of balanced diplomacy. A war needs to happen, and there has to be one winner.

Colin Powell is Jacob: Strong and reserved, a peaceful warrior, if you will. He tries to guide the group towards what is good, but ultimately, he is not in a position to affect choice. He can only show them 'The Way'. Like Jacob, he can never go outright and just say what he wants. And like Jacob, he ends being symbolically sacrificed (his political career, that is).

Condoleeza Rice is Kate: Strong, smart, sexy and easily influences the men in her group. She isn't above compromising some of her evident morals for people she loves, she's torn between bad guys and good guys. Can she/we even tell the difference anymore?
George Tenet is Sayid: Both like to torture people, ALLEGEDLY, and are decidedly good at it. Can they elevate their morality and use their power for good? Doubtful... 

John Ashcroft is Jin and Sun: Essentially good, but surrounded by a lot of destructive ideas, and an old-world view that limits personal growth. Resistant to change, but not incapable of it. C'mon, John - Let the Eagle Soar!

Ari Fleischer is Sawyer: Strong, charming and sharp-tongued, he can speak for the group on many levels, and people really, really like him, even when he says or does some really dumb things.
 

By NICK GORINI

I love puzzles. Sudokus, crosswords, word jumbles, even those maddening 5000-piece jigsaw puzzles picturing some blurry German castle. There's something about the List-maker, the Completist in me. I appreciate the structure that can be built from what at first appears to be senseless and chaotic.

My favorite moment when putting a puzzle together isn't starting the task, and it isn't completing it, either. When solving a puzzle, the moment I get my "runner's high", when I get those little knots in my stomach, is when I can see the solution appearing before me. I'm not done yet, and I may have a long way to go, but that instant when I can forecast how the pieces come together, and I start moving very, very quickly to the finish line - that's my favorite moment.

And that's the feeling I had watching this week's episode of Lost.

"And I've been Locked out, and I've been Locked in. But I always seem to come back again."

What is about the Locke episodes that are almost always so adept at combining all the disparate elements of this show into a most magical elixir? A pinch of action, a teaspoon of mystery, one cup of mythology and whole pile of character development. The perfect cocktail - do you prefer your Locke shaken, like the Locke of old? Or perhaps you like your Locke stirred, like the winding, whirling-dervish of a devil now inhabiting our dearly-departed hero?

THE SIDE TIMELINE:
We open on the serene, bland suburbs that Locke serviced in one of his many previous job forays (looked an awful lot like Nadia's old neighborhood, didn't it?). Locke as Job continues, as he struggles getting out of his handicap van, tries to go all Evel Knieval popping a wheelie off the platform, and lands face first in his lawn. Before he can get too pissed, the sprinklers come on, drenching him in shame... Er, no wait: this isn't quite the same Locke. Sure he's prideful and stubborn, but this time he laughs. Laughs out loud at his predicament. I am sure it is laughter twinged with some level of pain, but here's a guy who's coping.

Then Peg Bundy comes hopping out of the house! I mean, Helen comes hopping out of the house! She's back! Locke's lost love (truly lost - if you remember that upon returning to the island, he was told she had died of a brain tumor) is living with him. This is great for two reasons: We're happy for our beloved Locke, but we're also happy because this romance was real - well-written and well-played. Helen and Locke, who originally met in an anger management class, seemed like real people, meeting in a real place, having a real relationship, on a show that can also indulge in some extreme existential fantasy.

Well, turns out they're getting married. She even suggests they elope, and that dear old Daddy Locke should come along. WHAA? Can I get a HUHH? So who or what crippled Locke? Time will tell. I did dig that Helen's shirt said something about Kharma on it, I believe. Also of note - Locke lies to Helen when asked about his trip. This Locke is a better man than the original, but not without flaws. Like all of us, dark impulses nibble away at our corners.

They have a brief discussion about his airport encounter with the friendly spinal surgeon, and how destiny may be telling him it's time for a visit. Locke downplays the encounter, and we move on.

Back at Locke's office cubical, we get a glimpse of a happy, less-follicularly-challenged Locke and his dear old bastard, I mean dad. Still not buying it - maybe this jerk just hasn't sucked out his illegitimate son's kidney yet.

Fate's pain, isn't it? I mean, here's new Locke, still wheelchair-bound, and still working for that petty tyrant Randy. Still considered a nerd for playing Axis and Allies on his lunch break ("Hey Colonel!"), Randy paws at mousy Locke like fat, lazy cat until goes in for the kill. He knows Locke went on his thwarted Australian walkabout on the company dime. You're fired, dude. Side note: Side timeline = No Abbadon. So, who convinced Locke to go on this trip?

Locke wheels himself and his box of belongings (including a polar bear statue, if memory serves) out to the parking lot, but there's a problem. Prideful Locke doesn't use handicap parking because he doesn't have to and thus, his van is wedged against an obnoxious yellow hummer owned by Locke's boss, Hurley! Aha! Now, as much as I like Hurley, I don't like big, gas-guzzling hummers. So I now like Hurley a little less. Just a little. I bet he still eats hot pockets.

Follow the jump to get to gym class and then Jacob's Ladder...

 I don't think he's gonna pull through...

When I was in 4th grade the rock group Three Dog Night had this huge hit with "Black and White," which found a maddeningly tuneful way to reduce the world's racial/social conflicts, the very headwaters all the non-tea tax-caused wars in world history, into a child's singalong:

The ink is black/the page is white/together we learn to read and write...

Even as a 10-year-old I could sense that this was far too simplistic an analysis; that it offered limp platitudes rather than tough moral choices; that it might inspire Paul McCartney, ten years hence, to rewrite it and score an even bigger hit out of the arguably more dreadful, "Ebony and Ivory.

Only what I didn't foresee was that 20 years after that, "Lost" would take up the same issue (albeit not in racial terms) and present a far more complex and entirely compelling version of the age old manichean struggle: White v black; community v independence; fate v self-determination; good v evil.

No matter where you look, it's the same story: Stark distinctions; impossible choices; because you can never really tell what is good and what is bad, and why certain acts that seem like unalloyed evil might, in fact, be truly just and even merciful.

So when Sawyer, in seemingly idle talk with the NotLocke/Smoke Monster/Man in Black during a jungle stroll starts musing on John Steinbeck's "Of MIce and Men," sit up and take notice. And realize that what what you're about to see in the cave they're heading for tells you as much about "Lost"'s core themes as it does about the relevance of the notorious numbers and a glimmer of a hint about why the Losties were ever drawn to the island, and then all but forced to remain there.

All from the Man in Black/Smokey perspective. Which, as it turns out, makes some sense.

Central plot reveals: 

Jacob, who long since won the role of Island caretaker/boss/spiritual headwaters, chose/nurtured each Lostie in their pre-island lives, somehow pushing/compelling them to the point where they would all be on that Oceanic #815.

Each number was a signifier for an individual Lostie. If they signified something more profound (a top forty?) we don't know yet.

Argument for greater significance: Jacob was cultivating each Lostie as a potential substitute/replacement for him when he either retired, went on vacation, or got stabbed to death and then shoved into a campfire.

Someone brought an Iggy Pop record to the Island.

The non-island/alternative "Losties," left to their own devices in the good old US of A, seem far more successful, less angry and (to coin a phrase) fucked up than their Island-bound alter-egos. Hurley is a successful businessman; Locke, albeit wheelchair bound, is in a warm relationship with Helen and, by the end of this episode, finding new meaning as a substitute (!!!!!) teacher; Ben, also a teacher, satisfies his bossy nature by kvetching about other teachers' unwillingness to start a new pot of coffee even when they finish the old one; etc. etc.

The deep end analysis, from God to mice, comes in the jump....

By NICK GORINI
 
Now that we've had nearly a week to sit with our Kate-centric episode, it's time to gear up for what will be a more revelatory-what-the-heck-is-going-on episode, titled, 'The Substitute.' Although all episodes of this show are a must-see (minus a few that spent way too much time in bear cages), this week's will be especially important. More on that in a minute. First:
 
A FEW SCRAPS I MISSED:

In the first episode, I initially failed to notice Desmond's wedding ring in his little 30-second plane ride. Well, remember that he threw Penny's engagement ring in the water way back when that nice/sinister Old-Lady Faraday told him his love was doomed and he couldn't change fate. Now we have a married Desmond, presumably to Penny. And an episode later, we have a broken Sawyer tossing his Juliet's engagement ring in the water. Coincidence? Well, of course not.

Also in that first episode, I didn't notice Sayid's new passport: Iranian. Not sure how relevant this is... Yet.

Last week, Sawyer tossed that ring from the submarine dock. The submarine dock? Wasn't that blown up by Locke awhile ago? Well, looks like it's been rebuilt. And I imagine we'll be seeing the submarine again, too. Could that be a piece of the timeline convergence puzzle?

Just as Kate was meant to be part of Claire and Aaron's lives, so too was Ethan. And for all the bad stuff Ethan did  back in Season One, I think we can speculate that Ethan was meant to save Aaron's life - in both timelines.

To restate, Jacob wanted Sayid or whatever is possessing Sayid to get beyond the Temple's protective barriers. So all so far is going according to plan. But here's the catch: remember how unsurprised Dogen was that Jack didn't give Sayid the poison pill? Well that was part of the plan. What wasn't part of the plan was Jack popping the pill in his mouth. Further proof that Jack is the new variable.
In a recent interview, show producers Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindelof wanted to reassert that the main question they want all of us to ask: 'Is humanity essentially good or essentially evil?' Yes, this is stating the obvious, but it's a good compass for us viewer's to hold onto when we get too caught up in all the side stuff that occurs.

Peter's last post astutely mentions that the 'infection' that some characters appear to be succumbing to is really a metaphor for the Original Sin. As you will see in upcoming episodes, this infection can come in various forms. More on how this relates to the next episode in a little bit.

In another recent interview, Michael Emerson, who plays Ben, had what was probably the best quote about this final season's story-telling conceit: In regards to the two timelines, "The dimensions of time and space are... Porous."

In a weekend conversation with a friend, he stated that he dearly loved the show, but was surprised that the impending game is becoming so blatantly Biblical. I agree, although I am finding as many parallels if not more in another Christian writer's primary work: C.S. Lewis and his 'Chronicals of Narnia.' I skimmed through my beaten, beloved books and found Jack, Kate, Locke, Jacob, Esau and even Ben in lots of of characters. It was a fun exercise, and made me look forward to reading them with my seven-year-old.
 

How does he do it? No one knows. . .Follow the jump for even more. . .

Sarah Palin is maybe not what you'd call the world's most seasoned statesperson. Lightly experienced, clearly uninterested in the nuances of governance, she sticks to the talking points, and when pressed for more reaches into her gingham sack of catch-phrases, platitudes and one-liners. You may worry about the Obama administration's attempts to balance gov't regulation and the power of open markets to confront an int'l economic disaster. Palin wants to know how the "hopey, changey thing" is working out for you.

Her contempt for liberalism and (it seems) government as a whole is clear, but beyond that the lines of logic are hard to track. Her recent masterwork: The seething excoriation of Rahm Emanuel for using "retard" in the worst possible way, followed immediately by a smiling defense of Rush Limbaugh -- the sternly anti-drug, law-n-order, law-breaking drug addict -- for using the same word in exactly the same way, only multiple times, and with his own rip at "the p.c. types," like Palin, who criticize anyone free enough to wield the mother tongue not like a complete retard.

So no surprises there, I guess, given what we know about both of those characters. But that's just a start. Consider the industrial-strength narcissism guiding the soul of Sen. John Edwards, whose stirring concern for the underprivileged is not quite extended to his cancer-stricken wife. Yikes. 

Follow the jump to see the part about Arianna Huffington as Lady MacBeth...

Turn your head and cough!

This episode, titled “What Kate Does,” features a serious thematic revelation: Sayid, we learn, has an infection. A really bad one. LIke, it's going to kill him bad. Here's the worse news: Everyone else has it, too. And not just the people on the screen.

He was killed, then resurrected, seemingly none the worse for the mortal wounds he sported just hours/minutes ago. Everything about him seems normal. He looks the same, acts the same, knows everyone and re-engages where he (briefly) left off.

But he’s infected. There is, Guru whotk tells him, a “darkness” growing within him. “and once it reaches his heart, everything he once was will be gone.”

This revelation comes late in the episode, but it hardly seems surprising. Because what we’re really talking about -- what we’ve seen repeatedly during the episode, throughout the entire history/ies of “Lost” and our own lives -- is original sin. The seeds of darkness that exist in the foundations of everyone’s consciousness, growing (or not) according to the quirks of character, experience and, more grandly, fate.

Which brings us to the most fundamental questions of existence: Are we free to create, and re-create, ourselves? Or are we merely enacting our part of a story long since written by larger hands?

And this takes us back to this hour of “Lost,” the second episode in the series’ final arc, in which we are to learn, finally, What It All Means. Ooh, delicious! Only here’s a prediction: The final answer will (or should) be that there aren’t any real answers. Because the deeper you travel into your own soul, the more shadowy and deceptive it all becomes.

Darkness, darkness, be my pillow. But let's follow the jump first.

By NICK GORINI

"I don't know where I'm running now, I'm just running on
Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But I'm running behind."

- Jackson Browne, Running on Empty

Too obvious a reference? Maybe. But you know that an episode of Lost centering on Kate is going to have to mention 'Running' more than a few times to restate what her issues are.

"I'm thinkin' about runnin', Kate." Sawyer says it in the first few minutes of this episode, and we know he's voicing Kate's constant thought stream - in whatever timeline she happens to be trotting through. If they can be this obvious, by golly, I will, too.

If this was a Sawyer-centric episode, I'd probably be quoting that touching Van Halen ballad, 'Runnin' (NOT running) With the Devil'. As a matter of fact, that song may be quite apropos in coming episodes - more on that later this week.

THE 'SIDE' TIMELINE (aka, what used to be called the NEW timeline, before the producers let us know in a post-premiere interview that this was the wrong way of thinking):

Picking up right where last week left off, Kate has commandeered a very pregnant Claire's cab using the Marshall's gun (question: in real life, do cops really lose their guns so easily? Happens a lot on TV.). Before getting ten feet, we nearly plow over the good Doc Arzt, who gets to do a pretty decent Rizzo impression ("I'm walking here! I'm walking here!").

The cab soldiers on, but not before Kate locks eyes on Jack. They instantly share a deja vu moment, letting us know that Jack isn't the only Lostie becoming aware of alternate realities.

The cab driver bolts from the cab, followed shortly by sad-looking Claire, kicked to the curb without her purse and luggage. Kate pulls into an auto chop shop and implausibly, the friendly mechanic helps her lose the handcuffs with for a couple hundred bucks. I wonder how many escaped felons and convicts wish they'd bumped into this guy.

If you were wondering where you'd seen him before, the actor's name is Jeff Korber and he was on 'China Beach', and 'Sons of Anarchy'. I scrambled on the interweb to find him because I was convinced he was on an early 'Lost' episode. I was wrong, proving that this show will make me chase shadows in broad daylight.

Kate goes into a back room to change and finds Claire's picture and baby stuff, triggering guilty pangs, and possibly some hormones. She also gets the strong sense that she's seen this before. Obviously, the universe wants her, Aaron and Claire to be intertwined, no matter how much she runs.

Kate drives back and finds Claire right where she left her, on the side of the road, waiting for destiny, or maybe just a bus, to pick her up. In another implausible moment, Kate, who minutes earlier held a gun to Claire's head, manages to convince Claire to hop BACK in the cab for a ride to Brentwood, to stay with the family who will be adopting her unborn baby. You see, the were supposed to pick her up at the airport, but got their days mixed up and... WAIT! WAIT A MINUTE.

Follow the jump for more....

By NICK GORINI

WHAT DON'T YOU KNOW AND WHEN WILL YOU KNOW IT?

I’ve visited several places on the web, I’ve talked friends who are fellow Lost fans, and I’ve looked into Miss Cleo’s crystal ball, all in an effort to better understand where we’re at.

What I realized: a lot of people, me included, drew assumptions about what we saw last week. Those assumptions aren’t necessarily justified. In fact, in some cases, it would be wise to think twice about what we think we know.

In addition to the questions added to the pile in last weeks’ post, here’s a list I’d like to call, ‘What we don’t know.’

Oh, but first you gotta follow the jump. . .

Then, and now, Young at heart.

It's easy to forget now, decades after they first crossed the line dividing seriousness from ego-driven self-parody, but the super-group conglomeration of David Crosby, Stephen Stillls, Graham Nash and sometimes Neil Young were once the gold standard for serious American political/art-driven rock 'n' roll.

Chalk up some of that street cred to the times: they were the perfect post-Woodstock, roll up your sleeves and change the world type of band. And a glorious mix of styles and personalities, too.

Crosby: Too radical (and obnoxious) for the Byrds, he combined limpid art-folk stylings with feverish political fury, fueled in part by an energetic sense of paranoia.

Stills: Buffalo Springfield vet, Blues-fired guitar ace-slash-many-handed multi-instrumentalist; also a bit much in the personality dept. (see the chief flaw that comes with talent: outsized self-regard); but also a fine songwriter (at times) and a fiery lefty, of sorts.

Nash: British, high-harmony singer from the Hollies, a romantic who spent the high-corn years of CSN/Y as Joni MItchell's love.

Young: Another Buffalo Springfield member. The last to join CSNY, also the first to leave, simultaneously weirder and far more genius-calibre than the other guys. Put together.

A truly compelling conglomeration. But also rigged to detonate, which it did repeatedly, often in the ugliest possible way, and usually a result of someone's drug problem. (don't believe me? Check out Stills on this 1974 performance of  "Almost Cut My Hair")

Anyway, theyre easy to ridicule; easier to dismiss out of hand. But then you'd be missing a surprisingly large (and stylistically diverse) collection of pretty good-to-at-times-actually-quite-terrific tunes and performances. Most the direct result of Neil Young's participation.

Follow the jump to see all the songs you'll want, album-by-album:

Drink 'em if you've got 'em, but definitely read Nick's wisdom: 

By NICK GORINI

To be a real fan of Lost, you have to be willing to overlook a few of the show's less-than-savory personality traits.

For example, you need to get used to the occasional use of clunky, expository dialogue. These glaringly obvious speeches are used to highlight complicated plot twists, explain technical mumbo-jumbo, or restate themes and the 'Big' ideas. In Sci-Fi flicks from the 50's, this was usually done by cigarette smoker in a lab coat and thick glasses popping up at the start of the third act to explain how 'Gamma Rays' made Mothra so big, or why Mars needs women. My former Television Studies teacher, Thom Bray, called this guy, "Harry the Explainer."

Faraday was the quintessential Harry the Explainer.

But I forgive, because this show has so much ground to cover, it would take a thousand Harry's to shed the light. And on Lost, just about everybody gets a turn at being a Harry. In fact, so much happened on this week's 2-hour Final Season premiere, it seemed just about everybody got to be a Harry.  

Rose, at the start, telling Jack what his BIG PROBLEM is: 'It's okay. You can let go now.'

Pouty Sawyer, looking at the hole in the ground, restacking what they did last season, and that it didn't work! Dammit! And that 'I hate you all over again, Jack!'

Sayid, in a bloody heap: 'What will happen? Will I go to Hell? I'm a killer. As you may remember, I've killed lots and lots people. If I do go to hell, I deserve it.'

Jacob, in a very nice albeit un-ironed dress shirt traipsing through the forest: 'Uh look, Hurley. Last season, I gave you a guitar case, which we all know didn't have a guitar. And I died. Was just killed, actually. Anyhow, remember the temple Jin saw about eighteen episodes back? No? Well, he saw this temple - bring him along, and help Sayid, because Jack ain't gonna be any help here.'

I could go on, but you get the idea. This week's Harry award has to go to Locke/Smokey/Man In Black. The speech he gave to Ben about Locke's final, dying thoughts, his pathetic yet hopeful nature, and why it's ironic that this is his new host body? Awesome.

Thankfully, this week's show once again did a great job (as they usually do) of answering what we think are the most important questions by giving us a larger question that reveals even greater mysteries.

Nick's wisdom continues after the jump. . . .