24: Miami
I'm not sure what's overcome me. Excuse this silliness ... inhaling bubble wrap fumes too much, I guess. Still, inspired by a synaptic connection between the insanity of the 24 separate art fairs in Miami this year and the pro-torture crowd's favorite fantasy program, I give you the interactive (meaning feel free to jump in here) parody 24: Miami.Episode 1:
After a few gratuitous murders and sex scenes, Jack Bauer learns that a sculpture in one of the 24 fairs in Miami is actually a cleverly disguised nuclear bomb about to go off. He has only 24 hours to prevent the worst case of sun burn the South Beach set has ever seen.
But with 24 fairs and only 24 hours, how can he search each location?
After some painful self-reflection, some required family drama, and a few bad career decisions, Jack commandeers an ABMB shuttle bus. First he tries torturing all the gallery directors and staff with Middle Eastern sounding names but gets nowhere.
So he decides the only solution is to buy up all the sculptures in every fair and shoot them into outer space out of Cape Canaveral. Only the haggling with the dealers takes longer than he expected (he insists on 20% off, having heard that's what Alice Walton gets, and the dealers just laugh at him), so he deputizes Marty Margulies and has him call each gallery in all the fairs, promising to buy every sculpture in their booth, if they'll bring them immediately to a warehouse. A traffic jam ensues in the Winwood district, with Dietl's chief contact tossing his cell phone into the bay in desperation and heading off to Deuces.
tick...tock...tick...tock...what will agent Bauer do???
posted by Edward_ at
10:49 AM
9 Comments:
very funny, ed!
sj
I am always inspiring you dear!
I should get the 20%, yes.
Well, maybe not, let's see what happens Friday.
The original Anonymous....yes, me....+
Be careful, the screen writers guild may come calling asking for dues and why you're not on the picket lines.
anybody saw Pinta?
I was in NY but didn't make it...did get to see the great Weiner show at the Whitney.
The obvious solution is to force feed all of the sculpture to Dick Cheney, whose then completely bloated body becomes so full of gas and hot air it rapidly rises out of sight. The explosion burns off all the excess carbon dioxide in the air around the planet and we all live happily ever after.
It would be a hit - the whole art world would tune in just to watch the dealers/gallerists get tortured.
Perhaps you could write Captain Pop Culture and Captain Conceptual into the scenario somewhere. The video installation of these doing spandex-clad battle in Warholian 24 hour realtime might make an interesting backdrop to Bauer's dilemma.
Let's do the math?
ABMB= 2,0000 artists
23 fairs x 300 +/- artists = ?
Shit!
That's an army!
...cool!
OA.
****
Camera cuts to Bauer's dumb blond daughter canoodling with Gash Blow in the VIP-poolside cabana's as a party rages around them....
DBD - Oh, me, yeah, I'm totally over 18. What do I do? well, I'm, like, totally a performance artist.
GB - yeah, i perform too.
DBD - hehehe, you're so funny.
GB - you know what else would be funny? Why don't we go to my room and become hampsters? And then we can sell the room to collectors on my waiting list for $500,000 at tomorrows fair.
DBD - go to your room? Wow, that sounds like a really stupid course of action that will inevitably put me in a terrible situation. I'd love to.
****
Camera cuts to Bauer, who checks his phone. He's got picture mail:
Bauer's phone: If you want to see your daughter again, you'll call off your search now.
Close-up on two gagged and blindfolded figures bound in a pile of shredded telephone books.
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