Sharpton Calls for Boycott of ABC's Lost

It was short and sweet because I demanded it be short and sweet. Everyone knows that Baptist minister, self-proclaimed civil rights leader, and radio talk show host, Alfred Charles "Al" Sharpton, Jr., will talk your ear off if given the chance. I made it clear before I even stepped into his Harlem offices that, under no uncertain terms, I had to pick Pooh up from daycare back in DC by five. Oddly enough, the good reverend agreed. His message is that urgent.

"Hit me, Al," I said, upon entering.

"Lost kills black people," he informed.

"So does Ray Lewis. Where were you then, Al?"

"Brother Campbell, I am being serious. This is no time for jokes!"

I take my seat and get out my recorder, ready to get schooled.

"For six, long, arduous seasons full of high intrigue, mind-boggling plot twists, and fantastical jumps in logic, we have been watching the cold, calculated, conniving, Caucasian killing of black folk, and it has got to stop!!!"

Rev. Sharpton pulls out a handkerchief and wipes his brow.

"It's as though, if you have any, any African heritage on that island, you might as well kiss your melanin-blessed patooty good-bye."

"I never really thought of it that way," I confess.

"Well, think, my brother! For once in your life ... think!!!"

I do. Sharpton helps.

"First, there was that Russian-speaking sister who we all thought was the leader of the Others. When she came on, I tell you, my spirits were lifted. I was thinking, 'Yes, this is just like Angela Davis on Fantasy Island." Sharpton, of course, is referring to the now-classic, banned episode of the old ABC show, where Communist and black radical, Angela Davis, plays Richard Pryor's wife, and the two team-up with Tattoo to solve the kidnapping and murder of their pet chihuahua. SPOILER ALERT: The pigs did it.

"But then J.J. Abrams and the White Citizens' Council over at ABC had a summer to think about it and were, like, 'Oh hell naw! We can't be havin' us no black woman leader. So, they put a bullet in her."

"That did seem rather abrupt."

"And that brother from The Wire and now Fringe, Lance Reddick--"

"You actually know his name?"

"A mighty fine actor," Sharpton continues. "They bring him in for, like, four episodes and pop! pop! pop! Another Negro dead."





"Michael," Al's on a roll, "just a hard-working black man, trying to do what's right for his son. Why's he gotta be the one sellin' everybody out? Why's he gotta go off killin' everyone? Why did they bring him back just to get blown up on that stupid boat? And why, why, why did the brother have to go walkin' 'round so gotdamned nappy-headed all those years?





"And what about Ana Lucia? I mean, sure, she ain't black. Puerto Rican, right? Which is pretty damned close. Unless you're Jason Mattera, of course."

"Actually," I say, "I think Michelle Rodriguez is half-Puerto Rican and half-Dominican."

"Geez, is that even legal?"

I shrug.

"See!" Al screams. "They kill her off! And have Michael do the deed! Yet another case of black-on-damned-near-black crime!"

"Mr. Eko!" I trumpet.

"Exactly. Now you're getting it, Campbell." Al wipes his forehead again. "Sure, Mr. Eko had been a murderous drug dealer. But he had found Jesus. And he was the most popular God-fearing black man since ... since ... well, me."

"Do you think he was a surrogate for you and the producers of Lost were just playing out their fantasies of your murder?"

Sharpton's eyes bug out in anticipation. "Ooh. I like that. I like that."

"You know, I think you've got something," I concede. "I'm guessing that's why Rose is hiding out, not really part of any plots herself. Not having her own storyline in years. She's afraid she'll be part of the genocide."





"Cause on Lost, black folks stay dead," Sharpton said. "Those white folks. They get resurrected more times than Jesus. They should rename John Locke 'Chuckie Lazarus.' That hobbit shows up every time you turn around. And now Claire, who everybody thought was dead is back. And how does she celebrate her return to life?"

I shrug. I didn't see last night's episode.

"By planting an axe square in a black man's gut!!!"

"Oh, hell naw!" I say.

Rev. Alfred Charles "Al" Sharpton, Jr., shakes his head gravely. I jump out of my seat.

"That's it!" I scream. "Let's march!!!"

"That's more like it, Campbell!" Sharpton smiles grandly. "That's more like it!"