An Open Letter to Jack Bauer

An Open Letter to Jack Bauer



Dear Agent Bauer:

What's up with that ridiculous loud whispering-repeating-everything thing? When you're sitting at the dinner table and you need the mashed potatoes from the other side of the table, do you do this?

[loud whisper] "Please pass the mashed potatoes. I repeat... please pass the mashed potatoes!

[then crazy gravelly yell] "Son-of-a-bitch! I spilled the gravy. Chloe, I need you on com! Send a chopper to my location with more gravy. I'm sending my GPS coordinates to your screen."


Also when are you going to figure out... there's always a mole working for the bad guy! I mean come on! How many seasons of the same plot devices and you haven't nailed this down yet?


Seriously, though, with nothing but love for ya,

Me




Related...


Dear Fox Network:


There are only so many terrorist and kidnapping plots that one man can foil whilst going "dark" but then eventually being commended by the President before it gets kiiiiiinda boring. I officially cancelled "24" from my DVR. No hard feelings, k? It's been a good run, really it has.


Sincerely,

Me


P.S. I understand censorship and the need to keep things clean for primetime television and everything, but seriously... Jack Bauer is routinely tortured, almost dies, and basically loses or alienates everyone in his life while in the course of saving the country/world from impending doom. Do you honestly expect me to believe that the strongest language he uses is "Dammit!" or "Son-of-a-bitch!"? If I was an undercover drug runner hooked on heroin torturing the love of my life shortly after finding out the other love of my life was a Moley McMolerson and I had a nuclear warhead following me around like that little thundercloud follows Daffy Duck, I'd probably at least utter some of these: #@*****$@#!!! or oidthadfgxxxxxxxxxx!!!!!1 or even asdfsemicolon!!!!! I'm just sayin'...

An Open Letter to my Canadian Quarter

Dear Quarter,

Take note! While you are undeniably majestic, with your engraving of Queen Elizabeth on the front and a beautiful rendering of...some sort of...Canadian Deerbeast on the back, you have crossed me and we shall now have words of a decidedly unpleasant nature. While I have nothing against you on an economic or monetary level, I cannot let this incident pass without comment. All I wanted was a delicious can of Coca-Cola Classic from that vending machine. As the few bills in my wallet were wrinkled and useless, I could only fall back on the handful of change in my pocket. Ah, three quarters. Just enough!

But NO! Because one of the quarters was you, you....you...French bastard! My hopes for a quenched throat were dashed, my spirits (and sugar levels) left to sink into oblivion. This won't soon be forgotten, Canadian Quarter. Mark my words.

Regards,

Shawn