Your Own Personal Jesus Quizo Update

I have said in the past that I am not a particularly religious person. This does not mean that I disdain the beliefs of others, or hold the view popular among the more snobbish of the intellectual upper-crust that religion is some sort of aberration of the prehistoric human brain (hint: if you think that, you are a more obnoxious douchenozzle than Tom Coughlin). There is an important distinction between "not especially religious" and "utterly lacking a spiritual dimension;" the first accurately describes my exceedingly-peculiar worldview, the second does not.

The proliferation of religion across the human experience is a fantastic example of the old Star Trek idea - REALLY old Star Trek, in fact - of Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combination; the myriad ways of expressing the unexpressable and trying to give meaning to our bewildering existence. The fact that we have so many different ways of telling essentially, the same story - this is where we came from, this is where we're going, and this is why you shouldn't kick your neighbor in the shins along the way - has always astounded me.

The stunning array of messiah figures we as a species have managed to create for ourselves is where I draw the line, though. It is the point where the belief in the divine transcends philosophy and becomes something lesser and sillier. There are so many it's damn near impossible to keep track, really, and frankly as alphas and/or omegas go I have to say the choices are all pretty lackluster. I don't care whether your cardboard bucket in the Baskin Robbins cooler of messiahs is labeled Jesus, Buddha, Allah, Vishnu, Zeus or Rocky Road. When your personal chips are down, none of these guys are going to come through for you.

No, at the end of the day, when we face the dark night of the soul and all hope seems lost only one being can TRULY save any of us, and that savior is Jack Bauer.

24 is back, and as always it asks us pressing, important questions: how far is going too far in the defense of your country? Do the ends really justify the means? Is it okay to do something bad to prevent something worse? Is every other employee in the federal civil service a terrorist mole, or have we gotten it down to 35% or so? How does someone as blindingly untalented as Janeane Garofalo still get work?

That the show chooses to definitively answer some of these questions (respectively: infinite, yes they do, oh hells yes) and leaves others to the careful consideration of its audience (respectively: departments critical to national security require a bachelors in being a mole or equivalent work experience, blackmail photos of Hollywood executives with transsexual hookers) just speaks that much more firmly to 24's commitment to stimulating intellectual curiosity.

Also to spending 24 hours a year watching Jack Bauer be the absolute baddest motherfucker who ever lived (which, I think, is a quality you want in a messiah). Jack Bauer occupies the number one spot on my list of People to Never Ever Piss Off, and that's AHEAD of Batman and Jason Bourne. Some may argue this point, to which I just laugh and say, "bitch, please." You put the three of them in a room together, and Jack would just look at Jason Bourne, shout "WHERE IS THE BOMB?!" and while Jason was fainting Batman would then cause his own spontaneous death to avoid being questioned by Jack Bauer.

The moment in last night's premiere when Jack says the words "let's have this conversation again," I swear that was the scariest thing I've ever seen.

Much has been written about the stupidly long wait since Season 6, and I have to admit I wasn't really feeling it. Once I started watching I quickly got into a 24 groove (which allows the brain to filter things like the fact that almost all lines not spoken by Kiefer Sutherland are not so much lines of dialogue as lead bricks made of human speech) but I wasn't, like, INTO it for that whole opening sequence. I wasn't into it until the first time the clock appeared and I heard that distinctive C/D diatone "beep... BOOP... beep... BOOP" and this warm, fuzzy feeling rushed into my body and I thought, "this is what it's like when you shoot heroin after going without for a week. This is what being a drug addict is like. [pause] OH MY GOD IT'S GREAT."

Jack is back, and it is about damn time. I would say "thank God," but Jack already kicked your god's ass. Fucker wouldn't tell Jack where the bomb was. Never the smart play, that.

JLK