I'm trying to find my place in this blog, and I still don't have a clue where that could possibly be. I see that Luke is the movie reviewer; Rob seems mostly into sports and concerts; James is weird; and I'm unsure where that leaves me. I guess I'm supposed to be the comic relief to these duds, but even Lance Bass has to let the cat out of the bag after holding the group together for so many years.
I'm the butter, they are the toast. Without me, they are nothing; something that is incomplete, missing a key element. My butter is that key element. Unfortunately I can't seem to find any butter in my refrigerator these days.
I want to write about random stuff, but my life seems to get more boring as the days go on. No, this isn't a suicide note, although it probably should be. Now after that wonderful introduction, you could probably tell by the title I am going to talk a little about 24 and how I've welcomed Jack Bauer back into my precious lifestyle.
So I started watching 24 in its fifth season – a little behind most followers – but I had heard much about it and gave it a shot. That was a magical season. Jack could make a rabbit disappear and reappear where ever he wished. I thought I had another show to add to my "must watch" list.
In case you are wondering: yeah, I watch a bucketlist of TV. I could sit around for days watching anything and would only occasionally forget to breathe… Other than that, I'd be happy as a clam (an uneaten clam).
Anyways, I had a wonderful new action thriller to add to my weeknights. Unfortunately, the following season tanked like Ricky Lake in her early years (see Hairspray for confirmation, and no, not the one with the adorable and impalpable Zac Efron). I could only bare to watch a few episodes of the season before I gave up entirely. 24 had lost its touch – it was crap and I had run out of toilet paper. I needed it out of my life.
For two years, I was happy, I had forgotten all about 24 with the help of many other outstanding shows, and had moved on. While Jack Bauer was getting arrested in real life for stuff Nick Nolte could only dream of, I was sleeping next to a nice Gregory House doll. And to make this clear, I don't like Kiefer Sutherland – I think he is a poor man's Daniel Baldwin (unless of course Daniel Baldwin is now a poor man himself, but you understand what I mean). He almost annoys me sometimes with his poor portrayal of an angry agent yelling at a bad guy. His deep angry “yell voice” is almost as bad as Christian Bale's take on Batman (my favorite DC Comics hero). It's the awesome stories and the usually great action sequences that made me fall in love with people attacking our country. If terrorism serves one purpose in life, it’s for others to make movies and TV shows about it, and Allah bless them for that.
So I had fallen out of love with 24; no biggy, didn't care, didn't want to care. I had already shed enough tears over the loss of the lovable Edgar in season 5 to poisonous gas. I felt like it should now be reduced to being called 23; it didn't deserve the honor of being an American day. I was done with 24 for good… or so I thought....... Dun Dun DUUUUNNNN
I went over to my bitch girlfriends’ house this past Sunday to hang with the fam, feed my fishlets, grab some grub, trims the hedges… you know, everyday stuff. So as I sitting there I find out her mother, “the bitch from Ipswich” as I calls her (she was born and raised in Lexington), was a huge fan of 24. So I'm thinking: “what the snail, I hate my life anyways, I'll put myself through this again.”
I start watching and although it didn't start off any better then it had ended, it rapidly began to get better and better. I watched the first 2-hour premiere Sunday and was excited about seeing another two hours on Monday. I watched that, was blown away at the awesomeness, and immediately fell back in love with 24.
There are twists and turns galore, and I just want more Jack. The once fat and disgusting Ricky Lake (24 - season 6) has now blossomed into beautiful talk show host Ricky Lake (24 - season 7). I just want to go on record as having known this would happen and always, always having faith in Allah (who doesn't exist).
Chris Larsen is a beat writer for TWOTF
He has a dog, some fish, and a hell of a back swing
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