Victory or death.

SPOILER WARNING! IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED WEDNESDAY'S LOST YET (AND YOU PLAN TO) THEN YOU SHOULD REFRAIN FROM READING ANY FARTHER. I'M TOO GIDDY TO WORRY ABOUT BEING DEFT IN MY WRITING RIGHT NOW, BUT I THINK I'VE GABBED ON IN CAPS LONG ENOUGH FOR YOU TO HAVE CLICKED AWAY.

Right. Now that that's over with...

I sit here at 3:30 a.m. relaxing in my post-Lost glow. I don't really like to write about the show very often, and definitely not on a weekly basis. I honestly don't even discuss it that much. I don't like to have anyone else's view on the show taint my own -- or have their opinion taint my own (I'm a very impressionable youngster).

That being said, there are weeks when I just feel like the show has been so impressive that I have to talk a bit about it. Even on a superficial level, this was a stellar episode. Sawyer and Kate's relationship soured even more, and we got to see a little more of the James in Sawyer. Jorge Garcia got a chance to shine again and not just stand around calling everyone "dude." Charlie brooded some more before getting a chance to flash that silly hobbit grin. Locke got to deliver more than one line. Mysteries weren't solved, but they weren't piled on either.

Maybe I'm a sucker just because the castaways found their happy place this week (some of them at least) and pulled out their best Smashing Pumpkins impression. That doesn't happen too often. In fact, moments where the die-hard viewers get to just be happy for the passengers of Oceanic 815 are seriously few and far between. The last one I can think of off the top of my head at nearly 4 a.m. is the feast. I don't think it's a coincidence that was a Hurley episode, as was this week's.

Each and every one of the 50 or so passengers that we know of are tragic figures, and there were a few other tragic figures already settled on the island. But none, I don't believe, is more tragic to the everyday American than poor Hugo, who pulled off the luckiest possible feat , a lotto win, only to lose his grandad, his best friend, his girlfriend... now his chicken shack...

The show's fans for the most part identify with the big guy (all geeks know what it feels like to be down on your luck, with no answer or safe haven in sight). Hurley's the guy we all would buy a beer for -- he's the guy we root for in whatever little way we do. And when that van took off, he's the guy we cringed with and, as he put it, hoped with.

So it's natural he's the one who has these shining moments, as everyone else struggles, the unluckiest of them all scores these little wins that are, really, great triumphs. That's what you cling to when you're in a funk: those afternoon-long experiences that would mean very little to anyone else -- that you'll remember for the rest of your days.

And it makes sense seeing that pure happiness (in such a miserable situation) through Hurley's eyes. They're all happy in their own way on that beach, and you'd have to be to not have given up after all that time. But because of that, none of them will score the tiny personal triumphs that Hurley can.

Of course it can't last -- these surrogate friends of ours are doomed, like it or not. Charlie can stare death in the face, but when he's satisfied he's safe and he turns his back, he'll fall prey. And poor Hugo. Well, if anyone can make it home, it's him. But all the hope in the world can't beat a self-imposed curse. So, what happens if it's not self imposed? Even worse, what happens if it's real?