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Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler » Father of the Year
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A title that we much doubt Dr Cochrane-Bauer will ever have hopes of snatching, as we wade through another endless recap of one of the most brutally addictive shows on TV, “24″:

The “previously on ‘24′” nonsense safely out of the way, we return to the scene of last week’s sudden urban renewal. Jack is in fine form, running around the blazing wreckage waving his gun hither and thither with a purposeful look on his face. As he finally realizes that there aren’t any bad guys around for him to shoot in the face, he calls Bill:

“What you got?”, Bill asks.

“Er, that deposit you put down on the ice cream truck? I think it’s a write-off.”

“Damn. That means more reams of paperwork for me to file. What else?”

“We’re going to need about three new red shirts as well, with contents. Bill, they knew we were coming!”

“Gredenko?”

“No, the local software pirate ring. Moron. Anyway, since I’ve failed to locate the charred remains of Frat Boy and Marilyn, I think I’ll go looking for them before Frat Boy has an accidental discharge. From his gun.”

Elsewhere, Frat Boy and Marilyn are, indeed, being pursued by three goons led by Justin Timberlake. Frat Boy is implementing his Democrat Emergency Plan, which consists of running as fast as you can until you can run no more, which is the point Marilyn is pretty much at already. Unable to redeploy to Okinawa, Frat Boy decides to hide behind a dumpster instead, just as Justin Timberlake arrives and tells his team to search the area. One of the goons runs toward the dumpster…

“No, you moron. Don’t search THERE”, Justin shouts, “we’re supposed to search anywhere EXCEPT for where they’re hiding, in order to build suspense. Don’t they teach you new hires ANYTHING anymore?”

While goons #1 and #2 are deliberately searching all the places where Frat Boy and Marilyn aren’t hiding, Justin calls Dr Cochrane-Bauer.

“Is my son dead?”

“Yes, sir”

“Good, er, I mean it had to be done”, Dr Cochrane-Bauer says and deletes Jack from his phone’s contact list. “Do you have Marilyn?”

“No, sir, not yet.”

“What do you mean not yet?”

“She’s hiding behind a dumpster with some CTU twit, and the script says that we have to waste a bit of time building suspense. Once we’re done, we’ll have her. He doesn’t seem like he’s a trained field agent.”

“How do you know?”

“No red shirt, sir.”

“Just remember to get her alive. I need her to tell me where Gredenko is so I can get those pr0n DVDs that he promised me.”

Behind the dumpster, Frat Boy looks at his watch and realizes that the suspense-building time is almost up.

“Alright. When I start shooting, you run like crazy, y’hear?”, he says to Marilyn.

“Alright”, she answers, meaning “no.”

N’Sync-2 turn around and start walking toward the dumpsters, and Frat Boy jumps up like a dork-in-the-box, proceeding to empty the entire mag of his Glock at them without hitting any of them once. At 15 yards. N’Sync-2, after recovering from a sudden bout of hysterical laughter, return fire and hit him in the arm.

He drops down and notices that Marilyn is still there.

“Didn’t I tell you to run?”

“Are you crazy? I saw you shooting and realized that the safest place to be would be right behind you.”

Justin arrives and grabs Marilyn, then tells his goons to kill Frat Boy.

Unfortunately, all the commotion has attracted Jack who, with three shots (he’s obviously a bit out of shape), puts an end to N’Sync’s careers. Again. Justin, who always preferred going solo anyway, pulls Marilyn in front of himself and tells Jack to drop his gun or the broad gets it.

“Which will increase your chances of survival how, exactly?”

Justin, realizing that the gig is up, drops his gun and surrenders.

Jack gives Frat Boy a gun (is he suicidal or what?) and tells him to keep an eye on Justin while he roughs up Marilyn a bit.

After a surprisingly short interrogation, Marilyn spills the beans and tells Jack about his father. A light bulb comes on above Jack’s head.

“How could I have been so stupid?”, he wonders aloud.

“It was in the script, Jack”, Marilyn offers.

“Oh, OK. Remind me to beat the snot out of those writers once we’re done shooting for the day. So what’s the real address of Gredenko’s safe house?”

“I can’t tell you. Your father will kill my son!”

“Well, in that case I guess I’ll just wrap it up since Gredenko is our only lead. I’ll go home, pour a nice glass of Scotch and you’ll just have to rely on CTU for your son’s rescue…”

“No, wait, it’s on 9421 Glascoe.”

Jack calls Bill:

“Right, I’ve got Gredenko’s address. 9421 Glascoe.”

“Good. I’ll send a team ahead of you. Join them there.”

“Sorry, Bill, but I’ve been blown up enough for one day. Let the team take care of Gredenko and, meanwhile, I need a car at this location with all the frills, bangs, bells and whistles. And make sure it’s got a nice stereo as well.”

“What’s going on, Jack?”

“Oh, I just need to take care of some… Personal business.”

“That’s not good enough. Tell me!”

“THERE’S NO TIME!”, Jack yells and adds, for good measure, a “You’re just going to have to trust me on this one!”, then hangs up.

Bill, realizing the importance of whatever it is that Jack’s up to, TWO signature lines in ONE scene!?, decides to play along.

At CTU, Al Bundy has moved his pity party to his workstation where he’s busy yammering about how horrible it is to be him. Chloe heroically refrains from slapping him in the face with a lamp. Token Arab Chick Mole arrives with the news about Frat Boy and Marilyn.

“Frat Boy held off three armed hostiles single-handedly, getting shot in the process”, she says, “what’s more, he didn’t actually manage to hit anybody which is going to land him an L.A. Political Correctness badge.”

Al Bundy, adding envy to his self pity, whines about how it’s unfair that he has to hear about Frat Boy’s heroics and how everybody hates him and they’re really only trying to make him feel worse and woe is me and… *WHACK* Chloe hits him over the head with a rubber chicken. When he comes to, he decides that it’s time for him to take a walk.

“Listen, we’re about to launch on Gredenko’s location, so you’d damn well better be back before then”, Chloe says, “it just wouldn’t be the same without you moping and feeling sorry for yourself.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back”, Al Bundy says and wanders off.

Back in the field, Jack is having a cunning plan. He’s going to have Justin Timberlake call his dad, telling him that Marilyn won’t reveal Gredenko’s location until she sees her son, thus obviously revealing his OWN location. Only problem is, Marilyn’s not too keen on placing her son in danger.

“Don’t worry, Marilyn, I’ll do everything I can to protect your son.”

Marilyn, obviously unaware of what has happened in the past five seasons to people under Jack’s personal protection, doesn’t run off screaming. Instead, she agrees to play along.

In the hotel, Dr Cochrane-Bauer is watching gladiator movies with Josh when the phone rings.

“Do you have her?”, Dr Cochrane-Bauer asks, moving to another room.

“Yep, but she won’t tell me where Gredenko is until she sees her son”, Justin answers.

“Put her on.”

“Where’s Josh?”, Marilyn says as she’s handed the phone.

“Listen, Marilyn, just help me find Gredenko and all of us can still survive, as a family. Granted, a somewhat smaller family with a bit of a history, but think of all the appearances on Jerry Springer we’re bound to have.”

“I just want to see my son”, Marilyn insists.

“Listen, if you don’t tell me where Gredenko is, I’ll walk right into the next room and kill Josh”, Dr Cochrane-Bauer says, oblivious to the fact that Josh has snuck into the room and is listening to the conversation and repeating it just for good measure. He then, having made sure that even the dumbest of the viewers know that Josh knows what’s up, gives in and tells Justin Timberlake to take her to the hotel anyway.

Josh decides that it’s time to “go for a soda.”

“Did you check the mini-bar?”, Dr Cochrane-Bauer asks.

“Er, yeah, but I’m not too big on Pepsi. Or anything else in there, for that matter.”

“How about room service?”

“I, er, I… I guess I just need to take a walk. I’m definitely NOT trying to get out of here because I overheard your conversation earlier!”

“Riiiiight”, Dr Cochrane-Bauer says with a smile, “and I’m definitely NOT holding a large-caliber handgun, telling you that if you open that door, your brains will be all over the wall. Now, that out of the way, why don’t we go watch the rest of the movie?”

“Now that you mention it, Gramps, why don’t we do just that?”, Josh says and steps away from the door.

At the White House Fuhrerbunker, Karl Rove is busy pretending to be part of the conspiracy, handing over President Allstate Jr’s itinerary to his co-conspirator Reed.

“So when does all of this happen?”, Karl asks, once again feigning, very poorly, innocent curiosity.

“Now. Anyway, I need you to clear one of our guys with security so he can get inside to ‘carry the ball’”, Reed answers.

“Carry the ball?”

“Well, blowing the President to a fine paste on the wall sounds so, so, unrefined, don’t you think?”

“So who’s this person? Name, Social Security number, criminal record, home address, Yahoo nickname, shoe size, favorite color…?”, Karl asks.

Reed, doing a marvelous job of pretending to have the IQ of a cucumber, once again fails to notice anything weird about all of this interrogating. “Just call in the authorization code, will you?”

“But, they’ll trace it to me!”

“No they won’t. We’ll pin the blame on Assad.”

“Assad? We’re going to frame an innocent terrorist mass murderer?”, Karl exclaims with horror on his face, and Reed once again misses an opportunity to spot the obvious, which is that Karl isn’t “all there”, to put it mildly. Somewhere in the United States, worms start feasting on the lifeless corpse of our disbelief.

Fortunately, this farce of a screenplay is interrupted by Karl Rove being summoned by President Allstate Jr.

“You asked to see me, sir?”, Karl says as he enters President Allstate Jr’s office.

“Yes, I want your opinion on something. Tell me, does this kaffiyeh make my head look fat?”

“No sir, but having three Korans under each arm might be overdoing it a bit. And the bomb belt is a bit much too.”

“Just trying to reach out to the fantastically loyal and patriotic Muslim community upon which I’m betting the lives of a few million Americans, but if you think so”, President Allstate Jr says. “I’m keeping the ‘Islam Will Dominate’ T-shirt, though, and I think I’ll refer to myself as Abu Mohammed (pbuh) Palmer from now on.”

“Anything else, sir?”

“Oh yes, could you take a look at Assad’s speech for me? Just want to know what you think.”

“You want to know what I think, Mr President? Since when did you start caring about my opinion?”

“Oh, don’t be that way. I do value your opinion. As long as it agrees with mine, of course. And my sister’s. So now please tell me that you love Assad’s speech, because I really, really need you to kiss my ass continuously.”

Overcome with love for his master and touched to the very core of his soul by this declaration of trust and affectation, Karl Rove decides that it’s time to throw away silly concerns about saving a few million American lives. It’s His Master’s Voice™ speaking to him, after all. He takes a look at the speech and drops to his knees, grabbing President Allstate Jr’s hand.

“Oh Master! You are truly wise, and I must avert my mortal eyes in your presence, for I am not worthy to behold your godlike visage”, he mumbles as he slobbers all over President Allstate Jr’s fingers.

“THAT’S what I’m talking about!”, President Allstate exclaims as Karl proceeds to lick his feet, “I don’t know where I’d be without such critical, honest, outspoken advice! You may go now. Later, I may let you clean the Royal Butt as well. With your tongue.”

“Allah be praised!”, Karl Rove (whom we shall henceforth refer to as ‘Spineless Toad’) mutters ecstatically as he crawls out of the door to betray the conspiracy.

At Gredenko’s hideout, Gredenko is getting impatient. “How much longer?”, he demands of his goon, who is tapping away furiously on his laptop.

“Just a little bit. I almost beat the highscore on Missile Command.”

“Make it quick. At this point in the script, CTU has found out about us and we need to make sure that we vacate the premises a few minutes before they arrive, in order to keep the chase going for another few episodes.”

Elsewhere, Al Bundy has found a convenience store that is definitely not a 7-11. There’s a Caucasian behind the counter. Joe Biden is holding up the line, asking for a bottle of Old Bailey while trying desperately to sound like Apu from The Simpsons. Unable to make himself understood, he finally gives up and walks away.

“I wonder what the fuck his problem was”, the clerk says, shaking his head.

“You’re not the only one, mate”, Al Bundy says, adding: “I’ll take this and, oh, an eighth of Scotch. And a box of mints.”

“Vodka is better, buddy”, the clerk says.

“What?”

“Well, if you’re going to hide the fact that you’re drinking, Scotch isn’t going to help much. You’ll be reeking like a distillery for hours.”

“I know, I know, but it’s in the damn script. How else are my coworkers going to find out that I’ve been boozing?”

“You’re working on the set of ‘24′, are you? Sucks to be you, man.”

“Tell me about it, mate.”

Whiskey in hand, Al Bundy walks outside and empties half of the bottle, then, whiskey breath secured, spits and retches it all out again. Three homeless guys arrive out of nowhere with straws. Al Bundy walks off, chewing on a handful of mints.

At the hotel, Jack and Marilyn arrive and Jack hands her his lucky body armor. ‘He really loves me’, Marilyn thinks to herself as she puts it on. Jack grabs Justin Timberlake and they walk off.

Back at CTU, Al Bundy is visiting with Frat Boy in medical to tell him what an awful coward he is and how everybody hates him and how horrible it is to be him and how he never got that pony he always wanted and… Oh, and to make sure that Frat Boy notices the whiskey breath, of course. The screenwriters insisted.

At the Bunker, Spineless Toad is meeting with Reed again.

“So did you clear our guy?”, Reed asks.

“Er, sure. It’ll be a few minutes, but it’s all done. In the meantime, could you leave the room so I can have a phone conversation that I obviously don’t want you to hear? I mean, I COULD just have waited until I was back in my office, but then you wouldn’t have a chance to finally figure out that I’m not really on board, and the screenwriters wouldn’t like that.”

“OK, I’ll just pretend to leave while, in reality, eavesdropping from the other side of the door.”

“Thanks. Oh, and not in the face, please.”

Reed leaves and Spineless Toad calls the Secret Service, telling him that he’ll be right up to talk with them about a matter so vitally important that he can’t possibly give them as much as a hint as to what it’s all about, thus leaving everybody in the dark for the rest of the season.

He then opens the door and is smacked in the face by Reed.

“Not in the FACE, dammit!”, Spineless Toad whimpers.

“Sorry, my aim is off. You traitor.”

“Nothing justifies killing the President! Not even the likely death of millions of Americans because of his incompetence. Besides, he promised me I could lick the Royal Butt!”

Reed smacks him in the face again, knocking him out cold this time, then calls the Secret Service and tells them that Spineless Toad won’t be needing them anymore.

“Er, and why isn’t he calling me himself to say this? Not to mention why exactly are you calling on his phone?”, the Secret Service agent says, displaying a level of common sense far above and beyond that which the screenwriters assume that their viewers have.

“It’s in the script, dammit!”

At CTU, everybody’s getting ready to storm the inevitably empty safehouse of Gredenko. Chloe notices that Al Bundy is stinking to high heavens, not to mention the Margarita glass in front of him on the table, and makes up an excuse about “resetting the server” or “reversing the polarity”, then tells Al to follow her.

Confronted by Chloe, Al admits to taking a drink but insists that he didn’t inhale, er, swallow. Chloe, remembering that he’s a recovering alcoholic, concludes that there is no reason to doubt his word and promises Al not to tell Bill Buchanan about it. Somewhere in the United States the worms feasting on the carcass of our disbelief throw up violently.

They walk back to the situation room, kicking Wolf Blitzer in the shin on the way for good measure, and get down to business, said business consisting of three dozen CTU stormtroopers successfully storming an utterly and predictably empty safehouse. The lack of red shirts was a dead giveaway that there wasn’t going to be any action.

At the hotel, Jack, Justin Timberlake and Marilyn are climbing the stairs. Why, nobody knows, since the elevators are, presumably, still working, but it sure makes for some compelling footage. With Justin in front, Jack enters the, yawn, empty hotel room. The phone rings. Marilyn answers it and finds herself talking to Dr Cochrane-Bauer on the other end.

He’s on the roof of another building with Josh, threatening to kill him.

“Why, dad? It’s not like killing Josh is going to change anything at this point. Well, except for making it easier for you to buy presents around Christmas time.”

“What else is there for me to do?”

“Well, you could always strike a deal with the government for immunity.”

“Me? Immunity? After having plotted to assassinate a President, releasing nerve gas in multiple locations, handing over nukes to terrorists and about 15,000 counts of murder on my rap sheet?”

“You haven’t been following the show much, have you? That’s exactly why they’ll give you immunity at the drop of a hat. On this show, the government does it all the time. And this season, if you put on a fake Arab accent and convert to Islam, the President will most likely throw in a Cabinet position as well.”

Feeling that Dr Cochrane-Bauer is almost swayed, Jack throws in an offer to exchange himself for Josh. For some obscure reason, this does the trick. Apparently Old Dad REALLY wants to make sure that all of his sons are dead.

At CTU, Frat Boy is looking up Chloe to talk about Al Bundy.

“Listen, Chloe, your ex is drunk as a skunk.”

“How do you know?”

“He came to see me in the infirmary, reeking like a pub after last call.”

“Oh, so the writers decided to keep that retarded and utterly needless scene. I should’ve known. Well, he’s not drunk. He didn’t inhale, er, swallow, and he’s been a recovering alcoholic for three years, so there is absolutely no reason why we shouldn’t trust him.”

“Let me guess… It’s in the script?”

“You got it.”

Back at the hotel, Jack exchanges himself for Josh. After a short confrontation during which Dr Cochrane-Bauer claims that he was forced to do it all, daddy-o tells Jack to turn around and kneel for his “close-up.”

As he aims the gun at Jack’s head, Jack starts telling him how he always loved him, how he never meant to turn his back on the family, how he really didn’t want that pony all that much anyway etc. etc. etc.

The plan works, because just as Jack tells him that he’s ready and closes his eyes in anticipation of a bullet, we find out that Dr Cochrane-Bauer has left in search of something to throw up in. He left behind a PDA telling Jack to call a phone number, however, which Jack promptly does.

And guess who’s on the other end?

President Spineless Weasel from last season, promising to help Jack if he’ll come see him, that’s who.

Join us next week as we find out how Weasel Logan escaped a firing squad after conspiring to murder his own citizens. Not that we need an explanation, since we’re already aware that politicians don’t ever have to worry about facing the consequences of their own actions, unlike the rest of us. Sandy Pantsburglar comes to mind.

3 Responses to “Father of the Year”
  1. Unregistered Comment by LC Wes, Imperial Mohel

    Strict Standards: call_user_func_array() expects parameter 1 to be a valid callback, non-static method emotions::filter_text() should not be called statically in /home/misha/public_html/2007/wp-includes/plugin.php on line 59

    “Er, that deposit you put down on the ice cream truck? I think it’s a write-off.”

    Not a total write-off; the truck’s sound system obviously survived. Because the theme music playing as Jack was running “hither and thither” around the wreckage of the CTU van sounded exactly like something you’d hear out of an ice cream truck.

    Obviously whatever disease that has crippled the scriptwriters has also infected the musicians responsible for the soundtrack. Speaking of which:

    The plan works, because just as Jack tells him that he’s ready and closes his eyes in anticipation of a bullet, we find out that Dr Cochrane-Bauer has left in search of something to throw up in.

    That was pretty much my reaction to that scene, too. Especially when Jack got to the part where he told Philip that he left because “I had to find my own way in life” and that nothing Jack did as a child was ever good enough for Philip…

    *urp*

    …Excuse me for a second; I need to go swallow some more Pepto-Bismol.

  2. Beeblebrox Comment by Beeblebrox

    Strict Standards: call_user_func_array() expects parameter 1 to be a valid callback, non-static method emotions::filter_text() should not be called statically in /home/misha/public_html/2007/wp-includes/plugin.php on line 59

    The plan works, because just as Jack tells him that he’s ready and closes his eyes in anticipation of a bullet, we find out that Dr Cochrane-Bauer has left in search of something to throw up in.

    I kept anticipating that the sis-in-law/secret lover and mother of his yet unannounced mystery son, was going to walk in and shoot Dr Cochran/Bauer in the back. That’s usually what happens when you give the gun to the girl and tell her to get lost. She usually comes back and saves the day with the fatal shot.

    Well, so much for predictability.

    Oh, and has anyone noticed a pattern of mothers of hostage sons deciding that their sons are worth more than millions of lives? Maybe it’s just me but I could have sworn that earlier in the day that exact same thing happened.

  3. Unregistered Comment by Cheryl

    Strict Standards: call_user_func_array() expects parameter 1 to be a valid callback, non-static method emotions::filter_text() should not be called statically in /home/misha/public_html/2007/wp-includes/plugin.php on line 59

    The plan works, because just as Jack tells him that he’s ready and closes his eyes in anticipation of a bullet, we find out that Dr Cochrane-Bauer has left in search of something to throw up in.

    I kept thinking, “Oh where oh where is disgraced ex-President Logan. He’d be a refreshing change of pace.” By golly I was rewarded!

    Whiskey in hand, Al Bundy walks outside and empties half of the bottle, then, whiskey breath secured, spits and retches it all out again

    Whata waste of a single malt scotch! Bundy is such a pussy.