Lost in hypotheticals: Who would you take on a deserted island? [Ryan]

A few weeks ago, I wrote an editorial about not wasting time, about finding time in your college years for the things that really matter.

Somewhat ironically, I wrote the entire thing while watching a marathon of "Lost."

For the longest time, I was content with other TV shows. Watching Jack Bauer save the world every week was sufficient for my mind, even if he never used the bathroom or exhibited any kind of normal human function other than grimacing slightly every time he got shot in the chest.

It’s one of those shows you simply can’t just stop watching.

I’ve recently gotten into the show, which, for those of you who haven’t seen it, is about a group of improbably good-looking people who end up stranded on a mysterious island.

(By “gotten into,” by the way, I mean, “become obsessed to the point where my Facebook relationship status should say, ‘in a relationship with "Lost"’”)

The fifth season ended earlier this semester, leaving my questions unanswered and my imagination running rampant. My questions things like these: Why is the island so hard to find (Maybe it’s because the island is only there if you believe in it, like Santa Claus or global warming) and what is the creature they call the monster?

And of course:

Who would I like to be stuck on a deserted island with?

The last one is a valid question, of course; the applications are many and the likely affective scenarios myriad. Who might add some hope, flavor or protection during the lonely days on a deserted island?

President Obama: If I was stranded with the President of the United States, especially our current one with his near religious following, the civilized world would waste no time rescuing us. Forget whatever harm his debilitating economic polices can do to already ravaged economy — they might even send an aircraft carrier to pick us up.

Jack Sparrow: We all know Jack would probably spend the entire time frolicking on the island drinking some sort non-alcoholic beverage, so of course I would join him in his good clean mayhem. Maybe, after fourteen Doctor Peppers, we would sing “A Pirate’s Life For Me” while dancing around a campfire.

Optimus Prime: If we’re allowing fictional characters, by the way, into this scenario, then of course we can allow Optimus Prime. I’m not sure what his practical use would be, honestly — but come on! He’s Optimus Prime! He wouldn’t be too much use in fishing or gathering wood, but you’d definitely be safe from any island-dwelling Decepticons.

Edward Cullen: The arrangement would be utterly perfect. First, he wouldn’t have to eat, so I could eat all the meager food. And speaking of food, he is so perfect he could probably conjure up a four-course meal by simply breathing on the sand. Lastly, if something ever happened to his food-producing ability, I could simply — in an act of poetic justice lauded by males everywhere — eat him.

Chuck Norris: Do I even have to explain myself?

Problem solved.

Five principles of girl-ness

Before I begin my regular column, I think I owe an apology to all the Jane Austen fans I offended last week. No, I take that back — actually, I just an apology to Ms. Austen herself. Jane, you’re welcome to stop by and have a free Otter Pop anytime — on me, as a token of my regret for my naïve suggestion that your books might benefit from a little less feminine angst and a few more gunfights.

To any Twilight fans I may have offended, however — well, you’re on your own.

There are some things we’re not meant to know. Where dinosaurs fit into the scheme of things, for instance. Or why the Spori doesn’t have a vending machine for drinks.

Or what drives the inner workings of the female mind.

Nevertheless, I’m going to sum up the basics of what I’ve learned in my years of living on the same planet as the female half of the human race.

Correct me if I’m wrong, which I probably will be.

Principle #1 — Girls are absolutely necessary for the survival of the species. Just trust me on that one. Or go ask your mom.

Principle #2 — Girls don’t have any clue what they want. In this way, they are much like sea sponges, except more infinitely intelligent, more beautiful, and somewhat less predictable. So — not like sponges at all, I guess. (The analogy was worth a shot.)

Principle #3 — Girls don’t mean exactly what they say. I reference Kelly Kapoor from The Office: “Who says exactly what they’re thinking? What’s up with that?”

If a girl tells you she wants to hang out sometime, what she actually means is a) she is trying to be nice and doesn’t seriously want to do anything with you, or b) she actually wants to hang out, or c) she is planning to emigrate to Mexico. It could be any of the three, or none of them. You never actually know.

Principle #4 — Girls tend to be more lovey-dovey than males. They leave posts like this on each other’s Facebook walls: “OMG! You’re so beautiful! Come visit me!” A guy would never, ever, write something like that on another guy’s Facebook wall, even if the alternative proved to be a dire threat to his life or manliness, like having to watch the six-VHS set of Pride and Prejudice.

Principle #5 — Girls are wonderful, beautiful, indispensible additions to humanity, without whom I would probably be at home watching reruns of 24 again this weekend.

How to waste time

Do you have one of those troubling lives where everything you do seems to actually mean something? Do your actions fill you with a sense or purpose? Do you look forward to the future with optimism that your hard work will pay off?

If so, you need to get a life.

Such a life, of course, is found by wasting time. Goals, work, intelligent conversation with actual carbon-based life forms — all those things are meaningless smoke in the wind.

How do you waste time?

Spend time on Facebook. It’s an excellent black hole for time. It’s easy to interact virtually with hundreds of people without ever putting on pants. You can even update your status so often you begin to refer to yourself in third person.

Watch 24. This is a TV show where every episode depicts an hour in real-time of a day in the life of federal agent Jack Bauer. In the course of 24 hours, Bauer always manages to kill dozens of terrorists without ever needing to use the restroom or eat. It has the potential to hook you, like televised cocaine, until your heart beats tick-tock and you can’t walk around in a normal social setting without searching for an exit and a place you can hide and call for backup during a firefight.

Play World of WarCraft. Trust me, nothing impresses a girl like describing your level-67 Night Elf Rogue and your quest to find the Lost Trinket of the Faraway Voodoo Isles — except maybe telling her that you haven’t slept in four weeks and are currently alive only because your blood is pure Red Bull.

Have a marathon of all the extended edition Lord of the Rings movies. Want to see the entire quest, from ”The world is changing” to “Well, I’m back”? Want to travel from the Shire to Mordor and back again? Want to see Saruman and Gandalf, Aragorn and the Army of the Dead, Theoden and Eowyn? Want to watch approximately 32,000 orcs with the combat prowess and aim of turnips be skewered by the good guys? With the minor sacrifice of twelve paltry hours of your life, all these things can be yours.

Play Halo on XBox. Have you ever awakened at two a.m. wishing you had the Halo theme stuck in your head? Have you ever cursed yourself when Jeopardy comes on, frustrated at your inability to answer Alex Trebek when he reads, “This is the best way to snipe out the pilot of a Scorpion tank from atop the Blood Gulch cliff”? (Answer: “What is a rocket launcher?”) Have you ever possessed the mad desire to suddenly snap to consciousness, a game controller in your hand, potato chips on your face, and no memory of the last day and a half? Halo can help your dreams fly higher than a Covenant Banshee.

See all the benefits of wasting time? Why would any one harbor a productive desire when so many wonderful options are available?

Time to get a life.