We went out to dinner with our new neighbors from across the street last night, Bush. They happen to spend some time, like your good self, in Washington, DC, and they acquired this Los Angeles base in order to be able to spend time with their young folk, who ended up out here. We had been planning for a while to make a dinner date so that we could get to know each other better, and Ellie made us a reservation for last night at this unpretentious little Italian restaurant in the neighborhood, located at an unprepossessing mini-mall not ten minutes from where we live.
Well, no sooner had we settled down to order when in walks Jack Bauer. In the flesh!
And takes a seat with his lady friend at the very next table to us! No gun, of course. Not that we could see, anyway. This obviously wasn't one hour of his 24, since he had the leisure to interrupt his dinner for long enough to enjoy a cigarette out in the cool night air. (A bit disappointed in that, Bush, I have to say. I hadn't imagined our good Jack Bauer mortgaging his life to the tobacco industry. Ah, well, some illusions do get shattered from time to time...) We had an excellent dinner, though. This place is really something. A wonderful Italian spread, solicitous waiters anxious that the patrons know every detail of the menu and choose well, a nice glass of Chianti, good company... what could be better? And we arrived back home in time for me (Ellie wisely chooses to abstain from such television fare) to watch that same Jack Bauer, in a recorded episode, defend his country once again against those evil terrorists. (This time, though, despite Jack's very best efforts--including killing his best friend--the terrorists managed to stage that mushroom cloud you've been warning us about. More next week!)
So I thought to myself, well, I hope Bush has a few of these guys around--guys like old Jack, who seems like a good friend, now that we've virtually broken bread with him. We didn't actually speak to each other, but you know what I mean, right? Rubbing shoulders... But I'm sure you need these guys who aren't afraid to show a little muscle when it's needed, who don't let a few quaint moral qualms get between them and a little old-fashioned torture when it's needed to extort that vital information... I mean, Bush, where would a President be without them? Right? Between you and me, and Jack Bauer.
Just thought you'd like to hear about this adventure, Bush. Sometimes it pays to be living in Hollywood, if you want excitement.
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