This blog is now 100% commited to “24″ Analysis.
Okay, this blog isn’t necessarily just supposed to be me talking about TV shows, but 24 has again gone and done something this week that I cannot simply sit idle and let slide into history uncontested.
So yet again, if you haven’t watched this week’s episode of 24 stop reading right now and go paint a wall, or perhaps learn how to use a pogo stick. Anything besides scrolling down and reading.
Seriously.
Stop.
Reading.
Now.
You’re.
Pushing.
It.
Dangerously.
Close.
To.
The.
Edge.
Whew. We don’t like those people anyway; they were just holding us back.
Pardon my french, but what the f!ck were the writers of "24" thinking when they punked Tony F-in Almeida like that? Weak. Weak. Weak.
This is the mo-fo who has survived 2 bombings, being shot in the neck and drinks beer from a CUBS mug in the middle of the day when most people are working. That’s right. He pours beer out of a perfectly good bottle into a MUG. And not just any mug, a Cubs mug. The baseball team that epitomizes suffering.
And those pussy-ass writes went and had him offed like that? Stuck with a needle? A bullet in the god-damn neck couldn’t kill this guy!!!
I mean, sure, yeah, the guy who did it is Robocop. If anyone can apparently ignore the effects of a metric ton of drugs pumped into their system its gonna be Robocop (either that or Steven Tyler). And perhaps Tony was weakened from his coma and trauma over losing Michele. . .BUT STILL. WTF?
The freakin’ hobbit got to go and save Jack Bauer. It is a rare honor to save Jack Bauer; perhaps more special than meeting with the president or inventing electricity. And they give it to the hobbit and not to Tony Muther-F!ckin’ Almeida?
Why did they even keep Tony alive after Michele died? He didn’t do anything at all! Why bring him back just to get figuratively kicked in the nuts? Why not just let him die holding his wife in his hands, by getting cooked to death by a fiery inferno?
Why, why, why?
All I know is that Tony better rise from the grave as a zombie-Tony, a robot-Tony or something like that. And then he better damn well get to die for real this time saving millions of people or Jack Bauer. Those are the only two outcomes that could possibly exorcise the disgrace the writers have bestowed upon Mr. Almeida currently.
Until that happens, I want everyone to bow their heads and give Tony Almeida a moment of silence. Then look up only with your eyes (do it now you sissy), and whisper "yeah!".
This beer in a Cub’s mug is for you Tony. Have a safe voyage into the great beyond.
.
.
P.S. Yes, I do have issues separating reality from fiction. Its only a problem if someone gives me a weapon, so no worries everybody.
