Knowing that I'm so not into puzzles and brain-teasers, a friend once jokingly bestowed upon me a new Rubik's Cube. I promptly moved to counterpunch his gag by placing it in the middle of the driveway and turning it into a pile of multicolored dust by running over it with my car.

"Lost," as most everybody knows, is the Rubik's Cube of television shows. And while I have no immediate plans to do a hit-and-run on my beloved Mitsu-bishi big-screen TV, I wouldn't hesitate to gleefully obliterate some of the rigorous — and downright silly — mind games the series has wrought.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I'd never want to completely rob "Lost" of the murky numbers-crunching, hatch-hunting, monster-chasing mythology that has spurred fans to storm Web sites and chat rooms on a trail of cryptic clues. That mythology has been an integral factor in making the plane-crash saga such a spellbinding television experience.

And although my brain automatically curls up into the fetal position whenever confronted with anything more mentally taxing than Sudoku, I'll admit that, on occasion, even I have allowed myself to get sucked into the show's guesswork quicksand.

Still, this frenzy to dissect "Lost" and decode its symbolism has reached the point of absurdity. Not only are we being shamelessly played by a gluttonous marketing machine (yes, I wasted good money on "Bad Twin," the lame "Lost" companion book), but it's starting to feel like we're being led around an endless maze by writers who might not have the wherewithal to provide a satisfying exit strategy.

More important, the disproportionate amount of attention devoted to "Lost's" labyrinthine puzzles distracts us from what the show really is: a compelling web of personal stories about a diverse group of castaways who are wrestling with private demons and fiercely fighting to survive.

In other words, the reason most of us really care about "Lost" is because we care about its characters. Everything else is secondary. The day it gets too bogged down in the enigmatic machinations of its mythology is the day it shrivels up into a measly little cult sideshow.

This, however, has been lost upon some of the so-called "Losties." They're in such a frantic rush to freeze their DVRs to detect some squiggly little etchings on a hatch wall, or so busy formulating equations with Hurley's bad-luck lotto numbers, that they're failing to savor things like the subtle nuances actor Michael Emerson brings to his role of creepy Henry Gale, or appreciate the psychological peaks and valleys poor Locke (Terry O'Quinn) has traversed.

Even more annoying: When these puzzle-solving maniacs aren't busy demanding answers from the "Lost" writers — and demanding them right this very instant — they're scrambling to hunt down plot-spoilers and toiling overtime to figure out exactly where the show is going next. (Sometimes ruining it for the rest of us in the process.)

Whatever happened to just taking the ride and enjoying a show for where it is now? What happened to the elements of wonder and surprise? And patience? Didn't we wait several years between "The Empire Strikes Back" and "Return of the Jedi"? Aren't we still waiting for the last installment of "Harry Potter"?

My fear is that this egghead overload is proving to be an oceanic-size turnoff to uninitiated viewers who might perceive the show to be nothing more than one big, daunting pile of homework. That's unfortunate, because the truth is, you don't have to get bogged down in all the details. "Lost" is a show best enjoyed at your own pace.

"In reality, you're supposed to be a bit confused," said co-creator Damon Lindelof in a recent preview special. "The show reveals itself one layer at a time."

Lindelof and his co-conspirators, perhaps sensing that the urge to turn each "Lost" episode into a grad-school seminar has gotten out of hand, have vowed to tone down the mythology for the show's third season. Instead, they'll place more of an emphasis on action-adventure, romance and character. This will undoubtedly prompt some "Lost" geeks to soak their Dharma Initiative thesis papers with tears, but it's a decision I heartily applaud.

Not only does it return the show's primary focus to where it should be, but it also saves me the trouble of having to leave my tire-tread marks all over that wicked little island.