So there’s this show on TV called “24”. It’s wrapping up it’s 7th season, so if you wanted to see one of the freshest and most entertaining shows in the past decade or two, you’re too late. But I digress, as usual.
24 has a catch phrase. Y’see, the gimmick of the show is that it plays out in real time. 24 hours, and there’s this malign clock constantly ticking throughout the entire show. The clock is everywhere. It is always there, mercilessly recording the passage of time, counting down to a major character’s death more often than anything else.
Every episode, at least one character will say “we’re running out of time” or “we’re out of time” or some variant thereof. Sometimes they’ll say “you’re” or “almost”, but the phrase is basically always the same.
As a family, we began to ritualistically watch the show starting in season 2. It got to the point where we would all cheer whenever the catch phrase was spoken.
And then… we began noticing the phrase elsewhere. In fact, everywhere. It’s to the point now where it’s nearly impossible to watch anything that does not include the phrase “running out of time”.
Take, for instance, a recent experiment where we collected a random plethora of TV shows and movies that have nothing at all to do with 24.
We watched Zoolander, for instance, a highly odd comedy about mildly insane morons. The catch phrase in question was used twice.
A coincidence? I think not.
To be blunt: if you wanted to enter the bacon contest for a free book, you’re running out of time.
I can only assume that the vast majority of those wishing to enter already have, as I haven’t received any submissions for nearly two days.
Nonetheless, it’s still open until whenever I wake up on Saturday.
The judging has already commenced, so here’s a snippet of a standard judging session (fake names used to protect the moronic):
Dr. Awesome Face – Awesome extraordinaire, this guy loves his bacon like he loves his women: sizzling. Willing to try basically anything as long as it’s suitably manly enough.
Benny Lava – A total douchebag of many skills, Benny can be best described as a “dick head”. He likes to listen to Dragonforce and win bar fights.
Plan A – The man who’s ego is only rivaled in size by Plan B. Three guesses as to what Plan B refers to.
Needless to say, some strong language follows. This is just what happens when you get some guys together and talk about meat.
Doc: I am willing to bet cold, hard cash that this thing with cinnamon is tasty as all get out.
Plan A: It seems like the kind of recipe somebody’s grandma would make. If grandma was into slaughtering pigs, I guess.
Benny: Greek or something. Do they eat meat in grease*? It’s hard to tell with all the gay.
Doc: Is it even possible to have one conversation with you that does not involve gay Europeans?
Benny: Maybe if you stopped saying words like “pee” and “hard” every goddamn sentence.
* Say what you like, I know he pronounced it this way.
Doc: Check this one out. That’s bad ass. Permanent bacon scars! Bacon tears! Smoke detector alarms!
Plan A: Really? What the hell? What’s wrong with this “gnomeaggedon*” dude?
Doc: Well, he is from Australia.
Plan A/Benny (simultaneously): Gaaaaay.
Doc: One day you guys are going to get kicked in the balls so hard by a kangaroo or something that you’re going to vomit romantic comedies.
* gnomeaggedon pronounced ” Guh nom eyagh eedon”
Plan A: How are we supposed to even make this? Who the hell has Italian sausage on hand?
Benny: *laughs hysterically*
Plan A: Ok some of these are far out there, even for me. Is it truly necessary to use baby tears to get quality salt? Can’t you just get some from… from… a salt mine?
Benny: Babies work in salt mines.
Doc: Harvesting the babies directly is basically cutting out the middle man. Or midwife, I should say. More efficient that way.
Doc: Oh, wow, this meat thing sounds great. Just think, a thick piece of salami right next to some meat balls. Oh fuck me.
Benny: You do realize that you’re never going to live that sentence down.
As you can see, judging is well underway. If there are no more entries, I am confident the winners will be announced… Monday? We still need time to actually try all of these recipes. Or at least the possible ones.
I mean, I have neighbours with babies, but I don’t know if there’s a salt mine nearby to employ them. With the economy like this, it’s gotta be pretty damn difficult for a baby to stay employed.
Spit-up stock has crashed, and there just isn’t demand for Extremely Loud Crying in Public Places anymore. It’s a wonder the poor things can even keep the “Inexplicable Amounts of Poop” industry going.