Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Sorry for the back-to-back 24 posts

Another hauer has passed. Maybe two, I'll have to look at the other post I did. The body count has gone up, and tragically, Methos is currently out of the picture. I'm ahead of myself.

This is Methos:

If you know him only as Emerson, the mysterious mercenary and friend of Tony Almeda, then you're not as big a fan of Highlander as I am.

In a related note, you probably had more luck with the ladies in High School than I did.

But it's conspiracy theory time.

Jack Bauer, God of firearms and plugging security leaks shot Agent Walker, the stern, no-nonsense redheaded FBI agent you know he's totally going to bone. Here's the thing. He shot her in the neck. And she's alive and well.

The very next hauer/episode, Tony is forced to shoot Methos/Emerson. Where? Well, in the arm.

But then! In the neck.

How many more people do I have to shoot before Jack says he loves me?

Now, we are led to believe that Emerson is dead. Well, we were also led to believe that Tony was dead, weren't we? We see Emerson unconscious and Tony looking sad. Tony is then tasked with disposing of the bodies. Are we seeing any parallels yet?

I humbly posit that Emerson is still alive and Tony helped him stay that way to protect him from Jack's righteous wrath. Of course, this decision is totally going to bite him in the ass when he comes back all pissed off later in the day/season.

Ok... Assume that I'm right (it happens sometimes). We have two characters shot in the neck that were believed to be dead but are really alive. The Rule of Threes dictates that it needs to happen again.

Let's wrack our 24 fanatic brains and see if we can think of any characters that have been shot in the neck and presumed dead...

Nope, none that I can think of.

Oh wait...


Who is undoubtedly my favorite Manning right now... but that's a blog for several weeks ago and far too much condescending imagery involving pretty frilly dresses and bows in pigtails.

Yes, that's right. I worked out this justification for the sole purpose of wanting Curtis back on 24. He is awesome.

"Hi, I'm going to need a restraining order on a blogger who calls himself Rev. Thanks."

Also, I want to see Methos/Emerson back too. He's a cool dude, and immortals can only be killed by beheading anyway.

There can be only one, Tony.

In a few days, pictures of a visit from Dr. Rev.



Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Oh Thank the God Jack has returned to us

Some of you may have been wondering why it has taken me this long to talk about a major nationwide event. Starting on Sunday, Jack Bauer and 24 returned to Fox for its 7th season. I was unable to watch the original airing, because I was caught up with work. Very important and influential work, that I... uh...

"What were you really doing, Rev?"

Ok fine! I was playing Smash Brothers with Oach and Mr. Morchison.

God it's fun.

But anyway, last night I decided to get down to business and watch the first four auers that I'd missed. I gotta say, I really enjoyed it. Last season was ridiculous, what with the farmer from Babe being a mass murderer and all, and Jack torturing his brother while being conflicted about how much he boned his brother's wife back before they were married and this is making me sick just thinking about it.

"Tell me who wrote this crap!"

Don't even get me started on Curtis. We'll be here all day, first me getting angry and writing a rambling monologue about the greatest sidekick Jack ever had, then I'll start crying and the typos will start up, and then I'll start drinking and the whole thing will get really incomprehensible until I finally pass out on the keyboard, leaving several hundred lines of the letter y, as if to scream out "Why? Oh God, why? Why Curtis? He was the best of us!!!" Finally, I'll awake to the realization that A) I'm late for work and B) I've soiled myself and I'll select the "post" button on the blog entry as I randomly push buttons in a still-dangerously-intoxicated attempt to download clean pants.

So maybe it's best we don't mention it. It sauered the entire season for me.

But hey, Tony is back, and I'm not sure they ever did any sort of confirmation that Curtis was completely dead. I hold out hope of a comeback. If that happens, I will be a happy blogger indeed.

Don't be sad, Curtis. I haven't forgotten you.

I won't spoil any of the action for you if you have not yet watched the first episodes of this season, but I think they're off to a pretty good start. Rumor has it that they've actually written the entire season in advance, and not just the setup, and then a half-assed climax where Jack shoots Robocop off a boat while my local Fox affiliate showed a placeholder as the broadcast engineers took their heads on a colon-spelunking field trip.

God, I hope someone is monitoring my Google searches at work.

All right, as I'm sure you all care, I'll be keeping you updated throughout the season.

Finally, starting in January, a man takes control who can unite the nation and turn this great country around and restore it to its former glory:

Pauer to the People

Peace, love, and retrospectively justified torture,


Thursday, January 8, 2009

More Christmas, Please.

I miss Christmas already. That being said, what I can do about it is look at all the pictures and stuff I took and blog about it, so it seems like I'm back there. Sound good? Too bad.

Here is the Revs' Christmas Tree for 2008:


and here it is lit up in the dark:

No punchlines, it's just pretty.

Another thing that's pretty, though much more annoying is snow. We have it in Central New York. Not like here, you NYC wusses. This much on Christmas, actually:


As a result, here's a photo of me pretending to have just done work:


Convincing, isn't it? That's how I'm still employed. My endless imagination lets me pretend to have just done a lot of filing, to have just scheduled things, and to have just finished writing that email.

You should see me fake an orgasm.

I'm just joking. I really wanted an excuse to play that clip.

However, I can definitely pretend to have just faked an orgasm.

We were talking about Christmas, right?

Capt. Scrooge had his annual holiday party, so I went to that. A lot of the same hijinx as last year went down, so that means it was a good time. Let's get some highlights up here.

In the presence of greatness.

You might recognize this man. Actually, I hope you recognize both of them. The one on the left is the one typing this, and the one on the right could destroy your house with a well-placed lightning bolt. Yes, he is, as my anagram generator labeled him a year ago, The Warm, Keen Tit.

Other familiar sights from last year include the tradition of Irish Car Bombs. Not very Christmasy, I suppose but who am I to argue with peer pressure? I want to be cool.

I'm pretty sure this photo captured the fear in my eyes.

That fear was augmented by another tradition, performed a bit earlier:

What kind of bar serves tequila in plastic cups?

But anyway, I reluctantly went along with the Car Bomb, aware of the limits of my stomach and the perils of carelessly mixing alcohols and such. And so, when the car bomb was gone, and I felt a huge amount of saliva being produced in my mouth, I wasn't entirely thrilled about it. It was then I remembered that my main meal of the day had been 20 hot Buffalo wings, which took place during a lunch/dinner with Honus and McG, two characters I can always count on to be up for some serious wing business. We destroyed those wings. It especially didn't hurt that McG and I had been stranded in the Valley of No-Wings-Worth-Mentioning, NYC for months prior. We were jonesing like crazy for some of that heavenly fried red-hotness.

I didn't bring my camera to the restaurant, but let's see what I can come up with...

Yeah, that pretty much captures the scene.

I'd say Honus is the one in back, because he had a big dinner to get to, and so only had a few wings.

So with my tract full-to-sloshing with fried chicken, butter, hot sauce, Saranac Pomegranate Wheat beer, tequila, Guinness, Jameson's and Bailey's, I made a bit of a bee line to the men's room. and proceeded to curse, threaten and beg my innards to deal with the mess I had handed them. I'm sure it wasn't the first battle that had happened in that restroom, but this one only involved one man.

In the end, I was able to unclench my jaw, take a deep breath and rejoin society with my equilibrium more or less intact.

All in all, I'd say the party was a success. Let's see what the host, Capt. Scrooge has to say:

[Image Censored]

"Go F ourselves, Everyone."

Ok, no more Christmas.

Catch you next time,


Friday, January 2, 2009

Merry Christmas and Happy Whatever Craziness You're About.

Hello friends, welcome to 2009. I won't lie, it's going to be cold, scary and there's a huge likelihood that something will bite you. Many things, actually, so here's hoping they're all small.

Another holiday season has come and gone and as I sit thinking back on the past few weeks and avoiding writing Thank you notes, I decided it's been too long since I wrote at you.

This Christmas was a lot of fun at the Revs'. Getting there was a bit of a trial, as crazy delays in the Amtrak system caused me to stand around in Penn Station for about 6 hours. There are a lot of homelessmen there, and I did my best to avoid them. I ended up in Albany, NY far later than originally planned, and Mr. Rev and I got back home at approximately 3 AM. One of us had to work the next day, and I had to finish Christmas shopping. I did manage to snap this picture, however:

That's three trains to Albany Delayed in a row. My ticket was for the first one.

All in all, I would have to describe the trip home as Candiru-esque.

But it all went uphill from there.

Specifically, up a giant hill of cookies that Mrs. Rev had baked:

That's right, 5 different kinds.

As I mentioned before, I had to finish up a little bit of shopping on Christmas Eve, but I think I did fairly well. This Holiday saw me getting some online deals, planning waay in advance, and even pulling off a shady, transatlantic Machiavellian scheme like some kind of yuletide Kaiser Soze.

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he doesn't love Spider-Man.

Here's a story you might enjoy, from the files of "Great Revs Think Alike"

For the past few years, during family get-togethers, my father would regale his sons with tales of an artifact he once owned, namely a bottle opener/pocket knife that was shaped like a woman's leg. Losing this memento surely weighed heavily on his psyche, and so he was in a search for one to replace it whenever Mrs. Rev dragged him to an antique market or garage sale or some other such place.

Thinking it would be nice for his search to come to an end, I set to a little search of my own. Come to think of it, putting a stop to this quest might have severed his sole lifeline to tenuous sanity in the face of such monsters as the Madison-Bouckville Antique Show.

Seriously, it's huge.

But I'm sure he can find another, more elaborate dragon to slay. Maybe he can look for one of those mermaid statues, like the one from Animal House. You know, with the fish bowls for her cans? You know the one.

But I digress.

With a little help from Subastar, online sleuthing turned up a classy answer to the lady leg bottle opener quandry. There were only two problems. One, it was on ebay, so I'd have to win an auction. Secondly, it was in Northern Ireland, and I was not. Those turned out to be fake problems, as I handily won the auction at no huge sum (I will not tell you how much money I was willing to spend, however), and the international shipping worked just fine and got the item delivered with days to spare. Here's a pic:

I told you it was classy.

Truth be told, on Christmas eve I bought a bottle of Brasso metal polish and spent several hours getting that sucker nice and shiny. I even went so far as to unnecessarily employ power tools in my endeavor.

A) That leg opener is shiny.

B) There's only so much time you can spend polishing something shaped like that before it stops being about how shiny it is.

3) The phrase 'leg opener' is fundamentally dirty and sounds like code for Roofies.

Rohypnol: when you're just too gross.

But here's the really funny part. Come Christmas morning, I start opening the presents in my hand-knit, personalized stocking.

Yeah, we don't eph around with Christmas. You don't even know.

Lo and behold, what has Mr. Rev gotten me?

A lady leg bottle opener and knife.

It was like The Gift of the Magi, except without the irony, and a lot more alcohol consumption. And potential knife fights. Ok fine, it was nothing like The Gift of the Magi.

Several days later, we head to A. Rev's house to visit with her.


Her parents were there, too, but the cameras were pointed at the small one just about the entire time.

And hey, what do you think Lt. Rev had bought for Mr. Rev as a fun little Christmas gift?

If you didn't say a lady leg bottle opener and knife, you're wrong.

In fact, if you didn't say a lady leg bottle opener and knife, you're probably dumb. I'm sorry you had to find out this way. Rough start to the New Year, eh?

But after a good laugh, we figured this was a pretty decent way to have it all turn out. Lt. Rev, Dr. Rev and I all have lady leg bottle openers and knives, and Mr. Rev does too. AND he has a super classy solid brass lady leg opener that he can use to impress people without threatening them with a small folding blade.

That being done, A. Rev and I watched a little Blue's Clues.

Damn that dog. Why can't she ever just tell us?

I'm still waiting for the episode in which Steve has to look for paw prints to find out where Blue hid his insulin. I'll probably be waiting a while.

I'll be back with more Holiday stuff in a little bit, but now enjoy the soothing image of the Revs' Christmas fireplace.