Point/Counterpoint: Jack is a great Grandpa!

Counterpoint: Jack is the best grampa ever!
By: Teri Bauer (the one who’s alive)

While Grandpa Oscar is in the bathroom again, going poopy (I bet he does that a whole bunch of times a day), I wanted to tell you why Jack is the bestest grampa in the whole wide world.

He doesn’t even look like a grandpa. I mean, he never EVER goes to the bathroom, unlike this Oscar guy, who I think has a cot in there.

Besides, if Jack’s such a bad influence, how come he’s saved the world like, a zillion times already?

I like Grampa Jack because we don’t play peek-a-boo or any other stupid baby games. We play “Interrogation” and “WHO ARE YOU WORKING FOR?”

One time, we played “Nuclear Meltdown” and I got to put my Barbie Townhouse in the oven! I bet Grandpa Oscar doesn’t do cool stuff like that with his granddaughter. She’s gonna turn out to be a wimp.

Kim and “daddy” are moving to California with me, and Jack is supposed to move with us, but I think he has to save the world first.

What have you saved, Grandpa Oscar, besides 50 cents at the supermarket with a coupon?

When Jack hurts somebody, it’s always for a good cause. He just wants to make sure my mommy and I grow up in a safe world.

So Be Quiet, Grandpa Oscar. I would say Shut Up, but my mommy taught me that’s not a nice thing to say, especially to an old person.

Point/Counterpoint: Grandpa Bauer is a bad influence on Teri Bauer

Point: Jack Bauer is a bad influence on his grandchild
By: Grandpa Oscar

I’m a concerned grandparent who has been a fan of the show ’24′ from the start.  While I have enjoyed the years of senseless violence, I’m starting to wonder if it has negative consequences.  Take little Teri Bauer, Jack’s granddaughter.  I see that they are going to start spending more time together (in around 24 hours or so).  This worries me because of Jack’s history of violence against both terrorists and fellow family members (see Graem and Great Grandpa Bauer).

It should also be clear to Fox that Jack’s history of extreme violence has already impacted how Teri sees the world.  Just check out the picture she drew for Grandpa in episode 2 of this season.


If my grandchild drew a picture of her grandpa blowing the brains out of a cute blue stick figure, alarms would sound and Grandpa would not shoot people around the grand kids ever again.  I speak for most responsible adults when I say that Jack Bauer is not a good influence on Teri Bauer.  On a side note, Teri cannot draw for crap.

I’d also like to complain about this weather and my aching knees, but I have to take my Popular Science into the bathroom and have a bowel movement.  You know, they haven’t been the same since Korea.

Previous Point/Counterpoints

24: Point/Counterpoint

kieferbeforearrestCounterpoint: Moooooooooooo!
By Jack Bauer

I was speaking with Audrey in Lower Manhattan about the latest perimeter breach — we were standing on a street corner because I had intel that the building was bugged when a mole came up to eavesdrop.

I’m pretty sure the mole was working with Nina, or maybe even trying to exact revenge for the Drazens, when he dared to say “Hello” to Audrey.

The conversation went down pretty much like this:

Mole: Hello … Audrey.

Audrey: [Gasp!] Eek, Jack! Help me!

Me: WHO ARE YOU WORKING FOR?

Mole: Me? I just … design women’s clothing. Yeah, women’s clothing.

Audrey: Really? Can I get some samples?

Me: Don’t use such a lame cover story! TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW! Who’s trying to kill President Palmer??? WHY IS KIM SO STUPID? Teri and I are both smart!!! MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Because there was no wall right there, it was impossible for me to hold him by the neck against a wall, so I headbutted him.

Afterward, Chloe tried to remind me that President Palmer’s already dead, but I explained I was just trying to trick the mole into revealing more information.

I know that Charles Logan is the president now. Sheesh. Everyone keeps thinking I have mad cow or someth – mooooooooooooooooooooo.

24 Point/Counterpoint

Point: You broke my mother f-ing nose, bro.
by Jack McCollough

New York Magazine

You probably don’t know me, but my name is Jack McCollough – the famous women’s wear designer.  Laugh all you want, however you’ll never wear my clothes because they are not sold at Lane Bryant or Dress Barn.  Why are you still laughing? 

Well screw you and screw Jack Bauer. Yes, screw you Jack Bauer.  Thanks for breaking my beautiful nose!  While I’m at it, thanks for ruining a nice pair of $1,500 Berluti shoes.  Those aren’t New Balance sneakers Mr. Bauer.

Look, I was just having a good time, talking to Ashley Olsen and Brooke Shields, when out of nowhere – Jack Bauer spins me around and the rest is tabloid history.  So here is how the conversation went down:

Me: Hello Brooke Shields
Brooke Shields: OMG it’s Jack McCollough – world famous women’s wear designer!  
Me: Oh stop it, I’m not famous in Burkina Faso…(wait for it)…yet
(large amounts of laughter)
Jack Bauer then stumbles over and mumbles something about protocols.
Me: Well hello Mr. Bauer
Jack Bauer: Tell me what you know DAMMIT!
Me: The question should be what do I “not” know?
Jack Bauer: You breeched the perimeter, DIDN’T YOU!
Me: What perimeter?  What the hell are you talking about?
Jack Bauer: WE’RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME!
Me: Running out of time? For what? Is there a Michael Kors sample sale going on?

That’s when Jack Bauer headbutted me and then said I looked like Tobey McGuire.  Really Jack?  Really?  Tobey doesn’t have a broken nose and blood dripping on his leather slippers.  Tell me, how do you get blood of really expensive leather shoes?

Please tell me Jack Bauer, the shoes are not mine.  The owner wants them back and I’m running out of time!

24 Point/Counterpoint

detroit1.jpgPoint: Why nuke the 3-1-3? Haven’t we suffered enough?

by Detroit

I can count the good things that have happened to Motor City on my left hand. Let’s see, the 3 Piston’s championships…of course there was also the rioting afterwards. There was the Tigers baseball championship in 1984, again the rioting afterwards…ehh not so good. We are named ‘hockeytown’ for those of you who still watch hockey. Plenty of people are fleeing…errr moving away, so there are plenty of homes for sale, cheap. Oh, and in 1980 we gave the key to the city to Saddam Hussein. It could be worse, none of our waterways have caught fire like Cleveland. But come on, haven’t we suffered enough?

Please don’t nuke us. There are better targets, ones people care about. Why notbanner2.jpg target someplace like Chicago? Wouldn’t that make more sense? Imagine the play on words Al-Jazeera would have with “The Windy City” getting nuked! Or there’s Cleveland, I hear they let women walk around with uncovered ankles….infidels!

I actually see why you’re doing this; I guess I’d make a very nice target…back in 1972. It just not make sense to nuke Detroit. There’s still enough time to redirect your nuclear fury to Chicago, Pittsburgh, Cleveland…. or even (cough) New York (cough) if you feel like doing us a favor.

24 Point/Counterpoint

brian.jpgCounterPoint: WTF Are You Talking About? Chillie’s Is Awesome

by Brian – Chotchkie’s Waiter

Oooh. Sounds like someone’s got an extreme case of the Mondays. Maybe you need something to nibble on? Like some Pizza Shooters, Shrimp Poppers, or Extreme Fajitas?

Or maybe I can interest you in some of our Outrageous Wing-Wangs in Spicy, Double Spicy, Boy Howdy, and Mild Dippin’ Sauce? How about some of Fang Dang-a-Licious Cheese Sticks? Or our Whacktastic Hoola-Joob Monterrey Punji Sticks? I don’t even know WTF those are, but with a name like that, they gotta be scrump-dilly-ishus. My point is, Chillie’s got something for everybody. No matter how outrageous your taste is, we’ll bring it to you. For fantastic food, fun, and friends, there’s no place like Chillies.*

Far from sucking, the moderately-priced, casual dining restaurant isbanner2.jpg the last refuge of sanity in an angry, flair-deficient world.

Sure, it’s all hip and ironic for you bastards to mock the decor. Like you haven’t all secretly dreamed of nailing a canoe to the ceiling and covering the walls with kitschy 1940′s movie posters. You should see my apartment. (But I can only “host” when Dane, my room-mate is at work. He works the night shift at Kinko’s and weekends at Red Robbin. So, it’s cool. Really.)

And if Dave Bauer hates Chillie’s so much, why does he spend like four hours there? The service ain’t that slow, girlfriend.

* Except for TGIFridaze, Appelbees, Bennagain’s, Rooby Twosday, Mack’s & Irma’s, Champs Americana, Plan It Holliwood, Joe’s Crabb Shakk, and Chevvees.

bauer.jpgPoint: Chillie’s sucks major balls

24 Point/Counterpoint

bauer.jpgPoint: Chillie’s sucks major balls
by: Dave Bauer

I may want my baby back, baby back, baby back ribs but I sure as hell don’t need to eat at Chillie’s in order to get my damn ribs on! Chillie’s sucks major balls.

Why all this animosity toward a neighborhood chain? Well the Bauer clan has what layman would call a sensitive stomach. That’s why Jack did not eat a single bite in his 2 years of captivity in China, not even a fortune cookie. I recall the last time Jack got his hands on a bad batch of Sweet and Sour Chicken and well…it was not a pretty sight. When he recovered (2 minutes later) it was not a pretty sight over at the Goldenbanner2.jpg Flower Super Buffet either. They are still picking pieces of Carlos out of the ceiling fan.

With a sensitive stomach, how am I supposed to eat at a place named after a dammed chili pepper? Why not eat at Flaming Ass Joe’s or an Irish place called Pukey McVomit’s?

I don’t want to eat at Chillie’s for lunch, dammit! There’s a TGI-Fridays next door. I hear Friday’s has a set of ribs with Jack Daniels mild BBQ sauce. I’m going over there to eat.

I hope the next time you eat at Chillie’s, you think of balls.

Point/Counterpoint

050.jpgPoint: Can I come back, please?
by: Agent Lynn McGill

I read on Blogs4Bauer that Tony Almeida is coming back for Season 7 and I think that’s really great. Tony was a real swell guy and never got a silent clock. Come to mention it, I never got a silent clock…can I come back for Season 7 as well. Please?

Seriously, I would really like to come back next season and I havebanner2.jpg some great ideas that would really help the writers of the show. Are you listening Manny Coto, you no-talent hack? Jack in Africa? What in the hell were you thinking?

The first thing I’d do is give me a better name, Lynn is a girl’s name and I was always getting teased by the CTU security staff. How does Lance Powers sound? Powers and Bauer, we could be nicknamed Bacardi and Baileys. Watch out bad guys – here comes Powers and Bauer! Sorry Jack, I meant Bauer and Powers.

I would also need an eye patch, a mustache, and a motorcycle. No make that two eye patches. Have I mentioned the midgets? We’d need at least three that would be there to serve us drinks and fetch babes. Then we need a cool black dude who’s only role is to wear aviator sun glasses and say cool things like “damn bro’ that’s gonna leave a mark” and “he did not see that coming“.

Well that’s all that I’ve come up with so far. There’s this one storyline involving an underground dolphin fighting ring, but I’ve yet to hear back from Brett Farve on his availability.

Powers out.

24 Point/Counterpoint

Point: A Chick President? That’s a bad good idea!
by : President Thomas “Tug” Benson

I’ve been told that as a former fictional president, I’ve got a thing or two to say about any future fictional presidents. Well I think that women should play roles that were made for women, like First Ladies. My wife, Cheryl played a good first lady. Did I mention that I like chicken soup or is it steak? For that matter who is this Cheryl person and what the hell have your done with my wife?

Sorry, got a little sidetracked, I took shrapnel to the head at Little Big Horn. Or was it Okinawa? The one without the Indians. Where was I? To hell with that why am I not wearing pants?

Like I was saying, having a female president on 24 is like sleeping with your sister. Sure she’s a great piece of tail, with a blouse full of goodies, but… it’s just wrong. Then you get into that whole inbred thing. Kids with no teeth who do nothing but play the banjo… eat apple sauce through a straw… pork farm animals and that’s why we should not have a woman president on 25.

Or 24 for that matter. What were we talking about?

B4B Point/Counterpoint

Counterpoint: Josh Isn’t Your Son, He’s Mine
by Larry Birkhead

Let me begin by pointing out that my potency is legendary.

Here’s how it was. I hooked up with Marilyn Bauer at the CTU ball about 14 years ago. Now, Marilyn isn’t my usual piece of trim. She’s not blond, she has an IQ above room temperature, and her boobs, I suspect, were the real deal. But pickin’s were slim. It was hit that or hit Karen Hayes.

So, I said to her, “Hey, baby, is your name Visa? ‘Cos you are everywhere I wanna be.” Then, I spit on her and told her she should get out of those wet clothes. She told me Rocket Romano was having trouble getting off the launch pad and invited me to follow her into the ladies room. I worked her like an illegal immigrant landscaper. She was barking like a dog before you could say, “O-lay.”

Granted, it was kind of like tossing a hot dog into the Holland Tunnel, but Ol’ Larry got the job done. Then, I wiped off my crank with her panties and told her I’d call her.

Then, I shtupped Karen Hayes.

Nine months later, boom, along came Josh.

How much is Phil Bauer worth, anyway? I mean, selling nukes to terrorists, that’s gotta be a pretty nice chunk of change, right. And if he goes down, the money would go to his grandson most likely, right?

Just sayin’… hypothetically.


Point: “JACK, GIVE ME BACK MY SON!!!”
by John Daly

Counterpoint: Who’s your Daddy? I am
by Agent Mike Doyle

24 Point/Counterpoint

Counterpoint: Who’s your Daddy? I am
by Agent Mike Doyle

Josh, I’m really sorry you had to hear about this today, but your father is not Jack Bauer. Your father is not that bald-headed guy who got 12,000 people nuked, he is not the gardener that your mommy used to have. Your father is not a once-promising golfer, who only has 16 PGA Pro wins in a 20 year career and who’s a drunk. Who’s your daddy? I am. Now get in the helicopter and stop looking so depressed, we have quite a bit to talk about.

There has been a lot of discussion on what I was doing in Denver the past few years. Well Josh, I don’t know how to put this – so here goes. I was doing your mom.

Get that scowl off your face, your mother and I met at the CTU Ball around 14 years ago. She was there with Jack; her husband (the guy you assumed was your father) was away on business. John Daly was also there as a guest speaker. Well Josh, during the ball we got a little hammered and the next thing we all know, well… Let’s just say that it was a night that your mother, myself, Jack Bauer, George Mason, the bus boy, Edgar Stiles, the bathroom attendant, and John Daly will never forget.

Nine months later, you were born. Son.

I can understand why you would not trust me, epically after what you have been through today. But just look at the photo with my childhood photo. We even wore the same gay sweater/button-up shirt combo. How cute is that?

Well once we get done using you as a pawn to prevent a war with Russia in Central Asia by bartering you to an old geezer who thinks you are his grandson and wants to take you to China in return for a circuit board, I’d like to maybe play catch or take you on in a game of Monopoly. Hell, we can even take ride on my miniature electric train!

Point: “JACK, GIVE ME BACK MY SON!!!”
by John Daly

B4B Point/Counterpoint

Point: “JACK, GIVE ME BACK MY SON!!!”
by John Daly

Look, Jack, I know you have a special Jedi/Padawan relationship with your (ahem) “nephew” Josh. And, as part of my paternity agreement with Marilyn Bauer, I have not interfered in my son Josh’s life. (Who knew golfers could land such hot groupies? Everyone on the Tour referred to her as “The Ball Washer.”) But, I cannot stand by any longer while you, and the idiots at CTU, play God with Josh’s life. GIVE ME BACK MY SON!!!

Jack, first you come barging into Josh’s home with guns blazing, then torture and kill Josh’s adopted father in his own study! What did you think that would do to my son’s emotional stability? Cripes, look at me! Don’t you think the obsessive-compulsive eating disorder gene has been passed on to my son? Do you want to see him trolling the streets, selling himself for some Clark bars? Because I sure don’t!

Then, you transport Josh to the “safety and security” of CTU Headquarters. Are you on the “horse” again? CTU HQ is about as safe as a cold beer in my golf cart. This place gets invaded more often than Paris Hilton’s underpants! I almost expected Marilyn’s frantic phone call after some Asian assassins stole Josh from your steely grasp. Next time, think before you act. But, then again, thinking has not always been your strong suit.

Finally, you pull off one of your “miracle” saves after eliminating said assassins. Of course, this was after Milo Pressman was shot in the pumpkin. Way to go, hero! You then lose Cheng, the lead to the Russian nuclear schematics, and your self-respect. Well, at least you retrieved my son.

But wait! You had my son safe and secure for about 35 seconds. That’s more time than it takes me to finish a 72-ounce steak! The last thing Marilyn told me was that your own co-workers were kidnapping him and dragging him off to his grandfather. You know, the grandfather who’s a psychotic sociopath? I heard they are going to trade MY SON for the Russian component!!!

Good work, Jack. Maybe James Heller was right: everyone who gets near you gets dead.

Counterpoint: Who’s your Daddy? I am
by Agent Mike Doyle

24 POINT/COUNTERPOINT

Counterpoint: BRAINNNNS!!!
by Zombie Edgar Stiles

Just because I died and became a brain-eating zombie doesn’t make me your bitch, Milo.

You know, I didn’t ask to die. I liked my job— they always had donuts and muffins in the lunchroom. I also remember seeing Marianne Taylor’s bra strap once. It was purple. But here you are, making a big stink about your not getting the silent clock treatment. Well, the rumor around the graveyard is that you asked to be killed off. Geez, the least you could have done was become a mole or something. Standing up to protect a woman that wasn’t even attracted to you… well, wait a minute; I’ve done that too. But the point is that you tried to deny your inner geek, you ignored your BRAINNNNSS and now you’re dead.

If I was there when that Chinese bounty hunter asked, “who’s in charge?” I don’t think he’d believe me if I said “Yo, Ping, right here!” See, that’s the advantage of accepting your inner geek. I tried the hair gel thing back in the early 90’s. I looked like a greased-up silverback gorilla. But when I stopped trying to be cool and accepted myself for who I was, I was finally happy. And then the terrorists killed my mom with that nuclear reactor meltdown and I was sad again, but then Chloe talked to me about shooting one of the terrorists and I felt happy again. But Milo, you had to try and break free of the geek club. You had to go after the hottest woman in the office. And look what happened? You got all screwed-up and jealous of some other guy and you broke up with the girl before you even got together! And now you’re just a dead guy with a pimp moustache.

No silent clock for you, loser. Now let me eat that fresh BRAINNNNN of yours!

Point: Where’s my silent clock?
by Milo Pressman

24 Point/Counterpoint

Point: Where’s my silent clock?
by Milo Pressman

Teri Bauer, Edgar Stiles, George Mason, David Palmer, and Ryan Chappelle. What do I NOT have in common with these people? These unimportant people all got silent clocks. I got shot twice today and all I got was this lousy CTU t-shirt. Where’s my silent clock?

Let’s review, I got shot in the freaking head defending CTU from Chinese terrorists. Bald headed mofo Ryan Chappelle got shot in the head by Jack Bauer. He got a silent clock. I didn’t.

Teri Bauer gave birth to Kim Bauer, I’ll give her that. But, she sure didn’t keep Jack happy, just ask Marilyn and her love child, Josh. She got a silent clock, I didn’t.

George Mason flew an airplane into the ground. Come on! It’s called gravity, you shouldn’t get a silent clock just for not flying. Plus he turned CTU over to Tony, a crackhead. Mason got a silent clock, I didn’t.

Edgar Stiles. Enough said. Fat boy got a silent clock that weighed 200 pounds, I didn’t.

David Palmer got one….AND HE WASN’T EVEN DEAD! Palmer got a silent clock and returned the next season, I didn’t and won’t.

It seems like the committee who gives out silent clocks may question where I was for the past seven years. Sure I was at CTU-LA for Day One only to disappear until Day Six, I was transferred to CTU-Denver. You know what happened in Denver, nothing. Denver was really, really boring. The most excitement we had was when Doyle got drunk at a Broncos game and called in a bomb threat.

Excuses are like tactical teams, everyone has one to spare. The facts are that I died protecting CTU. I took a bullet for Marilyn Bauer. I got Nadia to smile. And I deserve a silent clock.

Counterpoint: BRAINNNNS!!!
by Zombie Edgar Stiles

24 Point/Counterpoint

Counterpoint: Sending Dwight an application from CTU was pretty funny.
by Jim Haplert

Don’t worry folks, Dwight Schrute will not be heading up your local CTU office. I will be the first to admit that Dwight took things a bit far by declaring war on Great Britain, but I will also be the first to admit not being surprised. I hate to brag but sending Dwight an application from CTU was pretty funny.

Now I probably should have let Dwight in on the prank, but thinking about Dwight storming into CTU and telling everyone his theory that the Brits are behind all of our problems. Dwight about to do something very bold. Bold…is that the right word?

Now sending faxes to Dwight from “future Dwight” was pretty funny. Weighing down his phone with nickels was pretty funny too. Having the office call him “Dwayne” all day was good. However, sending him an application for CTU and then calling him as “Special Agent Lee Castle” inviting him to CTU Training Camp located behind the K-Mart in Scranton was the icing on the cake. A literal Schrute cake.

Now excuse me, Agent Castle has to make a phone call.

Castle: Dwight, there was a mole in CTU! Your cover is blown and the British are onto you…..I don’t care if you think you can take them all….I don’t care if you have a set of nunchucks….or throwing stars….We need you to strip down to your underwear and enter the K-mart. Once inside, tell the greeter…

Sorry, this might take awhile. What should I tell him to do?

Point: Jack should not let feelings get in the way of killing people. Give me a gun, I will not.
by – Dwight Schrute