Harry Mudd from Star Trek is exhibit A for unconvincing future con men. Who exactly is supposed to be fooled by this guy? He practically winks at the camera every time he tells a lie, and with that mustache he's either a villain or a Burning Man hippie — and you really wouldn't want to get mixed up with him either way. He talks like a circus ringmaster, and almost manages to out-ham William Shatner, especially in the episode where he's the slave of a hundred android supermodels. And his scams are way, way too complicated: like he's got a stash of pills that make women irresistibly beautiful, for a while... but he doesn't just sell the pills. Instead, he gives them to not-quite-beautiful women and then sells them as wives. Or he's got a love pill so strong, it even gives Kirk and Spock a tender moment, but he doesn't just sell the formula to it to someone who can mass-produce it.

Ardra tries to con a whole planet into becoming her vassals in a Star Trek: The Next Generation episode, but Picard totally pwns her. She's basically the classic con artist, using bells and whistles like forcefields and holograms to try and convince the inhabitants of a planet that she's a mythic god/devil figure, who gave the planet a thousand years of peace and prosperity in exchange for total slavery afterwards. But at least she has the best hair of any of these con artists. Love is a battlefield, man.

Quark from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, who's such a weak flim-flam artist that Odo the mopey shapeshifter can see through him. (Odo described Quark in a report as "a self-important con artist who's nowhere near as clever as he thinks he is.") In almost every episode of DS9, Quark has some wacky scam involving fake Betazoid viagra that stops making you empathically sexy after ten minutes. The only person he ever manages to fool is Harry Kim from Voyager — and Harry's got "rube" stamped on his forehead.

Mitch Courtenay in The Space Merchants by Frederik Pohl and C.M. Kornbluth. It's a future dystopia where corporations run everything, and the government represents them instead of the citizens. Our hero, Mitch Courtenay, is the highest form of life — an ad executive, whose job it is to hoodwink the citizens into buying vat-grown meat laced with addictive chemicals. Or a one-way trip to the horrendous colony on Venus. Unfortunately, Mitch is sort of a bad con artist because he suffers a crisis of conscience after he gets a taste of how the other half live and falls in with the Consies, aka Conservationists.

Captain Jack Harkness starts out on Doctor Who as a conman, which lasts all of an hour before he starts getting soft and remorseful. He has some way-too-complicated plan to send a space ambulance back in time to World War II, and pretend it's a war ship. And then sell it to the Doctor, but explode it before he realizes it's actually just an ambulance. Between the incredibly overcomplicated plan and getting side-tracked by trying to seduce his marks, Jack dances himself all the way out of his hustle. He should probably just stay out of sales altogether: I can picture him trying to sell you a time share, but sending it back in time to the middle ages and pretending it's actually a hot-air balloon. And then staring at your pants for an hour.

Sabalom Glitz showed up a few times on Doctor Who, and started out as a psychopathic mass-murderer who was willing to wipe out an entire human settlement just to get his hands on some secret treasure that he only dimly understood. And then over his next couple of appearances on the show, he went through the kind of wimpification that usually takes years, even on television. The last time we see him, he's just sort of a cuddly teddy bear who'll try to con you out of your last dime, but means well, really. The Doctor is willing to let his companion, Mel, go off with Glitz without so much as a backward glance. (Although that could be a reflection on Mel, rather than Glitz.) Also, according to the original scripts for some Doctor Who episodes, and some of the novels, the Doctor's other companion Ace lost her virginity to Glitz. So actually maybe he's a pretty good con artist after all.

The Stainless Steel Rat starred in a whole series of novels by Harry Harrison, which I totally ate up when I was a kid. He's a weak con man for a different reason — he's always getting out-conned, mostly by the government's Special Corps, which is always tricking him into doing its dirty work. But apart from that, he's actually quite a slick con-artist, and even manages to connive his way into becoming president of a planetary banana republic in The Stainless Steel Rat For President.

Vala Mal Doran from Stargate SG-1, was originally conceived as a "a former Goa'uld host who now is a scheming, unscrupulous, thieving con artist." When we first meet Vala, she tries to seduce Daniel Jackson and steal the Earth ship Prometheus. The second time we meet her, she slaps alien security bracelets on Daniel and herself, so that they can't get more than about 100 feet apart without dying — maybe not the most elegant hustle you've ever seen. Plus she succumbs to the ultimate con-artist cliche: she falls in love with her mark. Also, it turns out her dad is also a con artist, of whom one reviewer wrote: "Every time the camera hits his face, his expression reveals the snake-oil salesman at the heart of the character. That makes it impossible to accept that anyone would be fooled by him."

Saffron aka Bridget aka Yolanda from Firefly. She's actually one of the better con artists in this round-up, but her schemes are usually way too complicated. She wants to sell Serenity to some bad guys, so she goes to all the trouble of getting herself stuck in a village in the boonies and pretending to be a simple peasant girl, who then gets married off to Mal. And the second time we see her, a crucial flaw of her modus operandi becomes apparent: she marries too many guys, and they're bound to run into each other eventually.

Con-artists from science fiction who aren't actually from the future: Funky Flashman from Jack Kirby's "Fourth World" comics for DC, Sawyer from Lost, and probably a few others I've forgotten. Also, Star Wars takes place in the distant past, not the distant future, so I'll leave out Lando (who I don't remember actually conning anybody, except when he sells out Han and Leia to the Imperials under duress) and Vilmarh Grahrk

Compiling this list has made me realize a couple things about con artists in science fiction: they have totally insane pimp outfits. You usually can't see their feet, which is probably because they're wearing platforms with aquariums in them. And also, if they last more than a little while, they always get afflicted with "heart of gold" syndrome and start getting rolled over by everybody. I blame antidepressants in the future-water.

According to Lindelof, "Season 4 is about who gets off the island and the fact that they need to get back. Season 5 is about why they need to get back, and season 6 is about what happens when they get back." Meaning there's going to be a lot of sitting around on that island throughout the rest of this season. Sure we've had some flash-forwards, but it feels like you're going to see Locke cooking breakfast for some time to come. Plus they've run out of eggs, so I hope everyone enjoys pancakes. Although they must realize it's getting slow, because Cuse added, "There will be very significant mysteries answered in the seventh episode. The eighth episode is non-traditional and the start of something new."

Remember how bad Season Three got last year? People were proclaiming the death of Lost everywhere, and the ratings were plummeting. Then all of the sudden it got better right at the end, and everyone cheered and said it had regained the magic. Well, we're several shows in, and it's already showing signs of sputtering again. We're bored with the whole fate of those left behind, the new Freighties are sort of boring, with the slight exception of Jeremy Davies. We're mired in squabbling that seems to repeat from episode to episode, the Dharma Initiative remains a big unanswered mystery, and it's just the Jack, Kate, Locke and sometimes Hurley & Sawyer show. If you think it's boring now, just wait. Lost takes a month-long break in a two weeks, then returns with the wacky episode 8. We hope it's not just another empty hatch.

• Shout out to Philip K. Dick! I haven't read Valis but I'm sure some of you have. Care to share your thoughts on its significance?
• Still on the subject of books, Sawyer was reading The Invention of Morel by Adolfo Bioy Cesares, about which its publisher says: "Set on a mysterious island, Bioy's novella is a story of suspense and exploration, as well as a wonderfully unlikely romance, in which every detail is at once crystal clear and deeply mysterious." And then Kate smacked him upside the head and went back to the beach.
• Locke is slowly turning into Colonel Kurtz. He believes he's responsible for the island's wellbeing, but he's becoming corrupted by the power he believes it confers on him. It's not a democracy, he tells Kate, whom he later banishes for disobedience and gross insubordination. Nor, according to Locke, is it a dictatorship — yet he expects absolute compliance from the group who followed him. But he's uncertain enough to ask Sawyer, "Do you think I know what I'm doing? Do you regret following me?" Bad things are brewing.
• Speaking of which, loved Locke shoving a grenade in trussed-up Miles's mouth.
• Also loved Miles's distinction between blackmail and extortion, as well as his emphatically specific request of $3.2 million from Ben.
• Future Kate is acting as Aaron's mother, which means that something happened to Claire — she's either dead or still on the island. Either way, didn't the psychic in Claire's past tell her not to let anybody else raise her baby?
• Claire was downright chirpy this week, flouncing off with a smile when Sawyer came to visit Kate, then happily suggesting Kate might like being a mom, too. I scoffed at TVGuide.com's complaint that Claire wasn't grieving enough a couple weeks ago, but now it seems kind of valid. (Still don't want a big grieving Claire storyline, but shouldn't she — or anyone — at least mention Charlie once in a while?)
• Future Kate says she's heard Future Jack tell the cover story (only eight survived the crash, but two died, Kate was a hero) so many times she almost believes it herself. Why this scenario? I mean, why not just say six survived? Unless Claire (and someone else) did survive, only to die and that's why Kate has Aaron.
• Finally, regarding tonight's Kate is/is not pregnant storyline, why no Dharma-brand condoms on the island? I know Ben and the gang are trying to reproduce, but given that women who get pregnant on the island die, shouldn't there be some readily available birth control amid those great stockpiles of food and supplies? (Likewise, free Dharmette tampons might be a big upside to life on the island for women.)

We meet four new characters this week, the team that's come to "rescue" the Losties—or kill them, depending on who you believe, not to mention the guns and gas masks the "rescuers" are carrying. Each of these seeming misfits comest with his or her own flashback, so those take up most of the hour. It's not that they aren't interesting, and we learn a lot about how the outside world has reacted to the downing of Flight 815, but it leaves the meat of the episode to the last ten minutes. In the interim, the viewer's head spins with new information, a sensation you either enjoy—or find annoying. TVGuide.com falls into the latter group this week, complaining that characters as "smart" as Jack and Kate should have found out the "answer to the $1 million question" earlier in the show. I've watched enough network TV to realize that's not the way it works, but I'm with Locke: I want answers!

Yeah, I know. That's not the way network TV works—especially Lost.

All in all, I enjoyed the ride this week. Here's what we learned:

• Hurley can see Jacob/Christian's cabin, too, a fact which disturbs Ben and pleases Locke.
  
• Somebody went through a lot of expense and trouble to fake a wreck of Flight 815.
  
• In the past, there was at least one polar bear wandering the Tunisian desert in a Dharma Initiative collar. (A time travel experiment? Evidence of multiple Dharma locations?)
  
• Ben's smart mouth is going to get him killed.
  
• Sawyer, of course, has the best line of the night: "Taller? Like a giant?" I also loved his reference to Locke as Heart of Darkness/Apocalypse Now's Colonel Kurtz.
  
• TVGuide.com also complains that Claire isn't mourning enough. Just because she isn't sitting on the beach in a catatonic state for a days on end, a la Rose, doesn't mean she's not grieving. And I, for one, don't need a soap opera storyline about Claire's sorrow.
  
• Ah, Naomi. You understood Murphy's law but your boss didn't, and now there's a dysfunctional rescue team running around the island without your guidance (unless you turn out to be one of the undead).
  
• Ben's mole on the freighter? Odds are on Michael.

• Are the rescuers angry relatives of slaughtered members of the Dharma Initiative, unknowingly brought together by the creepy Mr. Abbadon for his own nefarious purpose?
  
• Where did the picture of Ben come from? Did he leave the island at some time as an adult—or did someone else carry the photo out?
  
• Is anybody watching Eli Stone? Is it as awful as it looks?
  

So, without the commercials you've still got about 75 minutes of Lost to watch next week, and rest assured they're probably saving the really good stuff for right before the second hour ends, all the better to make you turn in the following week. However, it's worth at least part of these six minutes to see Hurley continue to assert his newfound balls. Think he'll run over someone else with the van?

Red Hot Video: Lost Sneak Previews [E! Online]

Desmond wakes up, punches the numbers into the computer, riffles through his vinyl and drops the needle on Cass Elliot singing "Make Your Own Kind of Music." He washes up, works out, injects himself with a gigantic dose of serum, and then—kaboom! The beauty of these season-opening moments is that until the first-time viewer sees Jack and Locke peering down the chute into the hatch, they have no idea where or who Desmond is or what the hell is going on. Extra points are also awarded for our first glimpse of Desmond without his shirt.

Locke's Backstory, Part 1. During the first several episodes of season 1, John Locke is established as a faintly sinister survivalist/naturalist, a New Age Grizzly Adams with a case full of knives. Then, in episode 4, a flashback reveals that not only did he used to be a game-playing geek with a paper-pushing job at a box company, but he was confined to a wheelchair. It was a genuinely surprising turn of events that gave the character plenty of impetus for his future actions.

The Orientation Film. The Hanso Foundation orientation film is an absolutely brilliant pastiche of every educational film I was ever forced to sit through in grade school (barring "Hemo the Magnificent"). What an incredibly entertaining way to learn more about the Dharma Initiative, Alvar Hanso, and the island's unique electro-magnetic properties.

Apocalypse on the Beach. From the nightmare-inducing scenes of the plane crash to Jack wandering the beach in a state of shock to the weirdness of Locke smiling at Kate with a slice of orange in his mouth, the very first episode offers lots of crazy, disoriented post-apocalyptic imagery that still packs a punch on viewing three seasons down the road.

Sawyer: More Than Just Fish Biscuits. I don't think of Sawyer as one of my favorite characters (and I'm sure he'd feel the same way about me), yet so many Sawyer-centric moments made my list that I'm giving the manipulative pretty-boy scoundrel his own entry. He is master of the snappy one-liner, and delivers a favorite when accused of stealing annoying Shannon's asthma inhalers. As a myopic constant reader, I strongly relate to his book love and cobbled-together reading glasses from another first season episode. And, really, who can resist all those nicknames?

Honorable mentions go to:
Just about every scene with Hurley, from the moment he reveals he won the lottery but believes he is jinxed to the golden moment when he gets the Volkswagen bus started up.
Mr. Eko and his whacking stick, for being the best of the "Tailies."
Driveshaft's hit song, "You All Everybody". For being a perfect and perfectly meaningless rock anthem and because I miss Charlie, though of course, we probably haven't seen the last of him.

Tomorrow: Lost's Greatest Misses.

You'll play Eliott, a character who (surprise!) we haven't seen before. He's suffering from amnesia, and will be sent all over the island solving mini-games, deciphering clues, and yes, even punching the sacred numbers into the hatch computer. You'll find out a bit more about stuff like the mysterious black smoke and the Black Rock ship that's been marooned on the island for years. You'll also interact with the main characters, although they've used soundalikes for most of them, which is fairly lame.

Since we've been wasting far too much time on the Lost viral marketing games, this game looks even more promising. Check out the trailer for it here. However, we wonder if automatonic versions of Jack, Kate, and Sawyer can tide us over. Will we be playing all of our favorite shows as video games in a few months? Come to think of it, we'd welcome the chance to play a cool Doctor Who or Battlestar Galactica game. Keyword being cool.

'Lost' Video Game Preview — Writer Taunts Me With Knowledge Of Black Smoke And Four-Toed Statue [MTV Multiplayer]

Well, if you haven't seen the show, then we doubt you'll "get it", but for the uninitiated out there, 815 was also the flight number of the Oceanic flight that crashed onto the island. We'd also forgotten about the four-toed giant statue... what the hell does that thing mean? Plus we love how they say Mr. Friendly throws like a girl because he most certainly does.

In the future, we wouldn't mind having all television shows and movies given to us this way. They've compressed 69 hours of Lost down to 8 minutes, and kept most of the pertinent facts that you need to know intact. At this rate, we could also watch every episode of Heroes, Battlestar Galactica, and the entire run of Planet of the Apes (both the movies and the television show) in an hour. Our brain might not survive the onslaught, but think of all the time we'd save. Plus it would make commercials entirely subliminal, which would thrill the advertisers. How can you skip past what you don't even know what you've seen?

Capsulized television. Bring it on.