The Shallow End: Where's My '24'!?!??!

Yet, that's nothing. Almost immediately after the announcement of the strike's end, word leaked that a stiff had been found in the basement freezer: the corpse of Jack Bauer and season 7 of "24". I'm sure God is a "24" fan, so prepare for some Old Testament anger to come down the hills of Hollywood.

I can endure a Justice League movie like a man can occasionally survive blunt head trauma from a chainsaw. Yet, two years without the "Jack Bauer 24 Hours of Power" is too much to bear. Yes, two years for those of us who wait for the DVD—waiting a week between episodes is not an acceptable option for a "24" wino like me.

Of course, it's not helping I'm watching season 2 of "24" as I write this. I've been trying for a few years to hook my wife on Jack Bauer, and finally last week she popped in season 1—before the news broke of the delay. Her eyes dilated, body movement ceased, sex drive disappeared. She's a complete "24" fiend now. We're already on the disc 3 of season 2 (watch out for that cougar trap Kim!).

So that means my apartment is occupied by a couple of junkies; we're Sid and Nancy and "24" is our heroin. At this rate, season 6 (not sure why everyone hates on this one) will be consumed by mid March. Then what? Will we be reduced to reading those hackneyed 24: Declassified novels? That's the dirty needles and ditch weed of "24" freaks—a savage, animalistic state of existence.

What we need is that damn "24" movie we've been promised for several years. Pronto. Kiefer Sutherland is free from the clink. Production will ramp up on the television series soon. They can bang out the remaining 17 episodes by early summer (the first 7 were shot before the strike) and then keep the cast and crew around for film production aiming for an early 2009 release. I bet there's a script sitting around somewhere. There has to be a script. To sustain sanity and civilized human behavior in the Frank household we need that script to exist. Goddamn I'll write the script for you right now.

Terrorists try to blowup the world. Jack Bauer screams "Dammit!" Jack Bauer kills all terrorists. Roll end credits.

None of that bullshit with filler subplots. Just 2 hours of Jack Bauer living up to his badass image. No need for the real-time gimmick; 24 is a brand name now, not a descriptor for the narrative framework. That's all. That's the "24" movie for you. Pure and uncut and R-rated and straight to the vein so my wife and I, along with millions of other fiends who are crawling out of their skins, can get our sweet, sweet fix.

If that doesn't happen, then I need to invest in a time machine or a hibernation chamber. Because 2 years. Man. 24 months. I'll be 28. I might have kids. I'll definitely have less hair. Who knew the writer's strike would bring such misery. Damnit!