24 Blog 9.7: Bombs Away

24 9 7-2

Tonight’s episode of “24” made up for the last couple of weeks in terms of Bullz-Eye’s “24” drinking game, which revolves around three lines of dialogue: “Dammit,” “We’re running out of time,” and “Put down / Lower your weapon.” (Yes, there are other, more in-depth drinking games for this show out there on the web, but Jesus, it’s Monday night, people.) By our count, there were at least three “Dammits” and one “We’re running out of time,” the latter of which is making its season debut, if I’m not mistaken. Either way, the show gave me a bit of a workout, as it were, so what follows might be a bit more incoherent than in previous weeks.

I’ll pause while you come up with your own joke here.

Read the rest of this entry »

  

You can follow us on Twitter and Facebook for content updates. Also, sign up for our email list for weekly updates and check us out on Google+ as well.

24 Blog 9.6: There is a light that never goes out

24 9 6-1

”And if a double-decker bus crashes into us…”

It’s as if the writers of “24” have been reading this blog, and secretly sent me a love letter.

What, the Smiths reference isn’t enough proof? Fine, I’ll go one better. Jack is trying to trick weasel arms dealer Karl Rask into uploading tracking software to his computer – meanwhile, in the next room, Kate is getting the shit kicked out of her as a decoy, because what Federal agent wouldn’t sign up for that? – and Rask tells Jack that he knows the people at the bank where he set up the account, and asks him about Metzger (that’s the German spelling of my name. It means ‘butcher,’ if you’re curious). The move is clearly a bluff, and Jack sniffs it out. Still, both Rask and Jack are repeatedly talking about Metzger. “Describe Metzger to me!” “There is no Metzger at the bank.”

In the end, I apparently don’t exist. Damn. Still, for a few moments, this episode was all about me, and that felt pretty damn good.

Read the rest of this entry »

  

24 Blog 9.5: Panic Station

24 9 5-2

For all concerned, I think it’s safe to say that we’ve arrived at Panic Station.

The British Prime Minister (my wife still laughs whenever Stephen Fry is on screen, for the sheer absurdity of it all) has to be freaking the hell out right now, because he stands to lose far more than Big Dick Heller does. He stuck his neck out for Big Dick – let’s pause for a moment and examine that sentence, ‘stuck his neck out for Big Dick,’ shall we? – by defending the Americans’ drone program, and that decision might cost thousands of Londoners their lives. We have a small quibble with Mommie Dearest’s video, though. She made a point about how her group spared the innocent, then threatened to bomb London if Heller didn’t surrender to her, meaning that she had contradicted herself, on tape, within seconds. Terrorists: if you can’t trust them to be true to their word, who can you trust?

Read the rest of this entry »

  

24 Blog 9.4: Wrapped Around Your Finger

24 9 4-2

Too soon?

Last week I made the rather safe and obvious prediction that Mommie Dearest would put her own daughter down like a dog the moment that Simone threatened to betray her. What I didn’t expect was that Mommie would give the order to chop off her daughter’s fingers in order to get her daughter’s conscience-stricken husband to fall in line and command the drones. Then again, Mommie did say that she would do “whatever is necessary” to change Navid’s mind, and damned if she didn’t mean every word. In retrospect, Simone is probably embarrassed that she didn’t see that coming.

Still, holy shit, that actually happened.

Read the rest of this entry »

  

24 Blog 9.3: The Angry Mob

24 9 3-1

“We are the angry mob, we read the papers every day / We like who we like, we hate who we hate, but we’re also easily swayed.”

Well, you’re a mob, so by definition, you’re prone to outrage and righteous indignation. As an added bonus, not having all of the facts makes it easier for your collective conscience to rationalize your behavior. “So tonight, you’ll sleep softly in your beds…”

The Kaiser Chiefs – writers of the above lyrics, and this week’s blog title – never really established more than a cult following here in the States – and that makes sense, given their overt “Britishness,” for lack of a better word – but damn, do I love those guys. And their new record, the politically charged Education, Education, Education and War, is their best in ages. All right, Shameless Plug of the Week ends here.

Read the rest of this entry »