Skip to main content

Doctor my eyes have seen the tears...

Octopus's Garden is slowly becoming my favorite Beatles song. Normally, an elitist bastard such as myself would choose a song by George Harrison to admire. And all of the ignorant fans in the world only know Paul and John. For some reason all of my favorites are sung by Mr. Richard Starkey, aka Ringo Starr.
Yellow Submarine.
With a little help from my friends.
People always give him credit for being "the luckiest man alive," but he doesn't get half the respect that he deserves for his singing/songwriting ability.

But seeing as last night I put my heterosexuality in doubt (shut up, Mario), I think that tonight I'll blog about something unmistakable masculine.

Jack Bauer

For those of you who either live under a rock or hate America, Jack Bauer is the single greatest government agent to ever life. No offense to Jack Ryan, but Mr. Bauer has the most intense days of any man alive. You think your days are tough when you have three classes? Imagine if your wife and daughter got kidnapped while you're tracking down a plot to assassinate a presidential candidate on the day of the California presidential primary. Yeah. That's how intense Jack Bauer is.
What makes him even more awesome is that he started out as a LIT MAJOR at UCLA. He gives me hope for the future. After his undergrad work, Jack got his M.A. in criminology from Berkeley. A born leader, Jack then found himself in the elite Delta Force of the US Army. While there, he took part in an operation to take out Balkan war criminal Victor Drazen. Eventually, Mr. Bauer became the head of the Counter Terrorist Unit and is currently dead in the eyes of the US government after faking his death to ensure that the rat bastard Chinese couldn't get any secrets about US policies.
Why do I worship this man? Because the ends justify the means to Jack Bauer. He is willing to do ANYTHING to protect and serve his nation. He chopped off his own partner's right hand in order to diffuse a bomb. He got ADDICTED TO HEROIN so that he could infiltrate some Columbian drug lords. Jack has, in 4 days: stopped a nuclear device from going off in LA, stopped a potential international war, prevented every nuclear plant in the US from going critical, quit his heroin habit in ONE HOUR, tortured god knows how many men, and killed well over a thousand. Let's put it this way: If you were to play a game of "24 shots" when you drink everytime Jack killed a man, you'd have alcohol poisoning in less than half an hour.

I salute you, Jack Bauer. You are a real american hero.


P.S. RED WINGS RULE!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

It was labor day weekend, I was 17. I bought a coke and some gasoline.

It's currently day three of my blogging adventure, and David Delgado has still not accepted my challenge to get off of his lazy ass and start writing. This is why a hunger strike may be necessary. If Mr. Delgado does not cave in and post a new entry by the end of this week, then on November 14th, I, Max Davison, will officially pull a Ghandi and abstain from eating for as long as it takes. Homer Simpson also utilized this tactic when the Springfield Isotopes were planning on moving to Albuquerque. It worked then, and it will work now if necessary. Onto the blogging... I had a rather pleasant dinner at the Ath tonight. It was a class dinner for Prof. Busch's GOVT20 class. The highlights included conversations about the Ivory Coast, strange roommates, and (most importantly) they had some great cheesecake. So great, in fact, that we raided the empty tables to ensure ourselves some extra slices. Cheesecake. I love it. Occasionally, I'm not sure if I want cake or a dairy

25 October 2007 - I'm not sure what his appeal is, but he deserves better

Superman has kryptonite. Mike Tyson has Buster Douglas. Vince Young has grammar. We all have our weaknesses. But mine is a little bit more embarassing than any of the aforementioned (apart from VY's hatred of the present tense): dumb romantic comedies. Yes, it's not something that I like to admit and it's a vice probably better suited for the Probie or Sean Garrity , but I just like to sit down for an hour and a half, turn my brain off and watch two people fall in love. And apart from the Hanks/Ryan classics (which were ruined for me after Meg ditched Dennis Quaid for Cinderella Man ), there is one thread that links all of my favorites: Hugh Grant. I mean, just look at the guy. When he's not getting arrested for picking up hookers on Sunset (here's a better shot of the man), he's the epitome of the 90 minute romance. He's got "endearingly befuddled" down to an art form, he's also got perfect comedic timing and if you've ever seen hi

24 September 2007 - The One Where Max Curses the Ayatollah

I've been reading up on the Middle east recently. It all started when I watched "Syriana" and was thoroughly confused. Although, watching George Clooney get tortured gave me the same sort of orgasmic bliss that I get from watching Kirk Gibson hobble around second base. Before I started studying, Ayatollah Khomeini was just that guy on the t-shirt that Homer refused to sell at his yard sale. So I have resolved to take as many Gov't classes when I get back to CMC. I'm prepared to ditch my ignorance about that giant bed of sand that happens to be floating on a sea of oil. But in my honest opinion, the greatest victim in the ongoing war between Islam and freedom has to be Yusef Islam, the artist formerly known to the world as Cat Stevens. In 1978, Cat Stevens converted to Islam and left the pop scene to focus on education and philthropy. In 1989, he called for Salman Rushdie's head on a platter, insisting He must be killed. The Koran makes it clear - if som