Lockport Union-Sun & Journal — We’ve been together for some time now, you and I, and over the months I’ve become comfortable telling you things I would never say out loud.
Today I have another one of those earth-moving confessions that will no doubt change the way people look at me, forever.
I never watched Breaking Bad.
I’m sorry this didn’t come out sooner, I just didn’t want to disappoint all of my friends both online and off.
It’s not that I don’t get the premise: Cancer diagnosis drives the dad from Malcolm in the Middle to a new life as a ruthless crystal meth dealer. It sounds great. The problem is, I’ve been hurt by breakout prime time television programming before, and I just couldn’t get hurt like that again.
Do you remember “Lost,” the critically acclaimed show from the mind of J.J. “Star Trek: Into Darkness” Abrams that captivated audiences for six seasons? I do. As with Breaking Bad, friends called it a “modern classic” that I had to watch — and with the dawning of the sixth and final season, I purposed in my heart to not be left out of a pop culture event that future episodes of VH1’s “I love the 2000s” would surely mention.
With that in mind, I began my quest to marathon the existing 103 episodes through a combination of Netflix and borrowed DVDs. More than 4,000 minutes of programming later I was ready to have all of my questions answered, but as the sixth season closed I was left with more questions:
Why did I do this to myself?
How much Red Bull did I drink to watch all those episode, and did it do permanent damage?
More importantly, why were there polar bears on the island that one time?