I'm hoping this will keep me alert this morning, since I spent most of the night having scary dreams about feeble presidents attacking the Middle East for no reasonable reason. An episode of 24 or Real Life, you say? Well, let's just say after last night's rant, I fucking BETTER be alert. I'm expecting the CIA to take up shop in the tower across the street with snipers and long distance hearing apparati. I'm sure as we speak there's a secret government profile about me with "COMMUNIST" in big red letters.
Speaking of Communist swine, I just can't contain myself this morning. Gredenko had them CUT off his ARM! Are. You. JOKING me!?! At what point does that EVER sound like a good idea, unless it means owning the Sexytime Rights to swimsuit model Tori Praver for as long as you both shall live. And, if you follow Gredenko's timeline between Arm-Off and Sandy-Death, that's like a solid 10-15 minutes of Tori Praver bootytime lovin'.
{{Now, I hate to get off on a tangent here, but I'm assuming most of you are engrossed in the Tori Praver photo gallery at this point, and the Post Must Go On. Can I just say how thrilled I am that the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue is now on that tier in between Victoria's Secret Catalogue and Porn? I mean, I'm reading the damn thing, and I'm getting more nipple action than a breastfed infant. If I was 13 - today, right now - I wouldn't come out of my bedroom until 2015, and that's only because I'd be 21 and need to go out and stock up on beer before I got right back in there. Tori Praver, remember that name. Because five years from now, nobody else will. Nevertheless, I'd kill multiple nuns for a crack at her in the sack}}
Getting back, there have been grumblings out there that this is just a re-hashing of Season 2, what with the whole 25th Amendment thing and all that. And, I'll have to admit, they almost had me going there for a while. And then he bombed Arabistan (why is it we don't know what country they're attacking? Just veiled references to Iran or Lebanon or Syria or whatever).
Now, I'm not the kind of guy who watches a show with the sole purpose of trying to guess what's going to happen next so I can sound like hot shit to the people around me. In fact, I hate those people and I think they should die. Keep your damned opinions to yourself and let me enjoy the fucking show! That's part of the reason why I watch 24 in my bedroom, under the covers, with the lights off, and headphones on, at 4am on a Tuesday morning, with attack-dogs tethered to my bed at every corner to keep intruders at bay.
Because, when it comes to 24, you're either with us or you're against us. You either love the show and watch it every week and secretly know that Jack Bauer is real and he's out there protecting our country as we speak; or you don't watch the show because you're a fucking moron who has no sense of what's good for you. But, you just can't be a casual, fairweather 24 fan. You can't tune in one week and skip a couple and come back and think you know anything, because you don't.
Hence why I don't watch 24 with anyone unless they're avid viewers and they keep their commentary to themselves until commercials (but still have the common sense to hear the beeping clock and know to shut the fuck up). But, I'll admit, I do find myself with an opinion of what I think is going to happen. Generally I tend to be right, but I'm always on edge with nervousness regardless because I know there's ALWAYS a chance to be utterly, utterly shocked by the swift right-turn the writers take. When they injected Gredenko with the Stupidity Serum, followed by that Isotope Tracker (dude, those are isotopes), I thought, "Well, his only way out now is to cut his arm off," never actually believing he'd DO it. But, I'm seriously, when Wayne Palmer went and bombed Arabistan, I flipped my shit. Not since Borat wrestled Azamat have I been so jaw-droppingly surprised. Eight more hours to go.
Oh, and who else had a little minigasm when Jack Bauer said, "Show me your head" followed by hitting him square in the cranium with one shot? I still miss the toilet bowl from time to time.