Tonight, after dinner, we discussed the ridiculousness of Frogurt and other Lost minutiae. The more we talked the more it became clear how close Lost has come to jumping the shark.

The back of my brain turned on briefly — it does that from time to time — and spouted out this gem, "riding the shark". If the graph of a show's quality were to peak right before it went off the deep end, that would be the the shark's dorsal fin and Lost is right on top of it.

To be clear, this is a good thing. Success definitely plays a role, as riding the shark is kind of a fuck you to less successful shows. "What, you don't have a smoke monster or warm-weather polar bears and you're only pulling in 2.3 rating? Watch me move this island, pussies."

Like the rest of the world, I'm nervous they won't be able to keep their balance until the end of season six. Once you commit to life on the back of a shark, getting off means you're in the water with an angry beast with three rows of teeth. You've got to ride that shark all the way home or be prepared to die trying.