Why I'm Not Afraid of Jack Bauer

I’m operating on eight hours of sleep; Jack Bauer’s operating on eight hours of operating.

With all he’s been through, and despite appearances, he’s got to have the body of about a 200-year-old man. Jack Bauer is ready to crumble, literally.

Jack Bauer has experienced an endless string of victories. I have experienced an endless string of defeats. I figure the law of averages is on my side. Way on my side.

Jack Bauer is probably overconfident from reading all those fawning lists people are writing about him.

I have a useful contact at the Chinese embassy. A lunch counter server there (the beggar's chicken and sometime naked oats noodle lady), whom I met on OkCupid, says that in an emergency she can smuggle me into the embassy in an empty pig livers container. (She says the embassy is much more prepared for a Jack Bauer onslaught now that they’ve hired Johnnie To as director of security.)

I’ve begun to suspect I have some latent superpowers. For example, I've noticed I can see what’s going on on both sides of the locked door Jack Bauer is about to break down.

The theme music from 24 does the same thing to me that "Pop Goes the Weasel" always did to Curly of the Three Stooges.

Believe it or not, Nina is not dead. I know because I ran into her at a Dave and Buster’s last night. I think she likes me.

I have a bargaining chip. In the file they keep on me at CTU (these days, everyone has one), I’m officially classified as “no potatoes” (one level, as you might suspect, below “small potatoes”). However, I know someone who plays basketball with a guy whose brother thinks the husband of someone he works with may be “potatoes” (not a “big potatoes” or "Mr. Potatoes" type security threat, surely, but a seriously dangerous individual nonetheless). I would have no scruples about ratting out that potatoes guy to save my own no-potatoes skin.

Jack Bauer is sort of predictable. Sometimes it almost seems like he’s following a script.

I, on the other hand, am completely predictable. This would mess with Jack Bauer’s mind.

Jack Bauer is, like, about fourteen inches tall! I mean, c’mon!